Rewrite Reality: Kinship and Learning From the More Than Human

Welcome to Rewrite Reality, where we peel back the layers of how we imagine our world — then explore what it means to build different futures.

I’m Gregg the Artivist. And on today’s episode, we’ll dive into Kinship and Learning From the More-Than-Human. 

Join me to reflect, challenge assumptions and spark possibility. 

Thanks for being here — let’s get into it.

We use the word “kinship” a lot these days. 

Kinship with the earth. Kinship with nature. Kinship with each other. 

But too often, it gets left at the level of metaphor.

As if kinship is a nice idea, this poetic image, rather than a way of living.

But kinship isn’t a metaphor. 

It’s a practice.

It’s a relationship. 

It’s something we choose — and something we return to.

For me, this truth came alive in small, unexpected ways. 

Not in a conference room, not in a speech — but in my own backyard. 

Building Plot Zero, thats the name of my herb and vegetable garden, I started noticing how much life was paying attention to me.

The rabbits were nosing around, the were pigeons perching close, the soil was shifting with every seed I planted. The worms were multiplying at a rapid rate. And the insects started coming, and the spiders building webs between the plants. From rubbish pile behind the shed turn into this abundance of life. This incredible eco system.

And I go into the garden to care for it. 

But what I slowly realised was... it was also caring for me.

That’s kinship.

Not as a metaphor, but as a daily relationship that shapes how you move, how you see, and how you act.

And yet, our culture trains us to treat the more-than-human world as background. 

As decoration. As resource. As a commodity.

We mow, we buy, we package, we discard.

I mean, for god’s sake, — I live in one of the most micro-managed countries in the world, the Netherlands, where every inch of land has been engineered and controlled.

We rarely stop to ask: What are these lives asking of me? What are they teaching?

So think about it: 

Ants organise entire cities underground without bosses. 

Trees share nutrients through roots and fungi, keeping weaker members alive. 

Birds migrate thousands of kilometres by stars and magnetic fields, without GPS.

The more-than-human world isn’t silent.

It’s full of strategies, and lessons, and relationships.

We just have to listen.

For me, that listening has been humbling.

Ive recently been caring for a rescued pigeon that lost its patients due to a cat in our garden. This poor little thing less, than a couple of weeks, it was featherless and smaller than a tennis ball and I thought that I was the teacher.

But really, that bird was teaching me — about patience, about trust, about letting go when it was time. 

Even in that tiny relationship, I realised: kinship changes how you live.

Because when you see other beings as kin, exploitation becomes harder to justify. 

You don’t strip-mine your family.

You don’t poison your kin. 

You don’t burn the home you share.

And the challenge here is: kinship isn’t always soft. 

It asks something of us. It ask's for our

attention and care and responsibility. 

It asks us to move slower, to notice, to carry a different kind of accountability.

So here’s a small action I would like for us to try this week: 

Choose one square metre of life around you.

A patch of grass. A tree by the street. A balcony planter.

Visit it every day for a week. 

Notice what changes.

Write it down, sketch it, photograph it on your phone — not for likes, but for relationship. 

Because once you notice, you can’t un-notice. And once you care, you can’t go back.

And here’s my personal moment:

There are days when I feel - and I've expressed this before, overwhelmed by the scale of collapse — the fires, the floods, the wars. 

But then I go and step into my garden, and a single new shoot of spinach or there's a bee hovering over the herbs and it reminds me: kinship is alive, right here, right now. 

It doesn’t solve everything.

But it changes me. 

It roots me in relationship instead of despair.

So here's the question I would like to leave you with this week: 

Who are your non-human kin?

And what might change if you treated that relationship not as a metaphor, but as family — with all the responsibility, tenderness, and reciprocity that family deserves?

Thank you so much for listening to this episode of Rewrite Reality. 

If this resonated, I’d love to hear from you, so please do leave a comment wherever you’re listening. What are you feeling? What came up for you? What’s your take on today’s topic? And consider sharing it with someone who might also be thinking deeply about the world around them.

And be sure to subscribe, so you don’t miss future episodes as we keep peeling back the layers and reimagining what’s possible.

And if you haven’t already — check out the Gregg the Artivist app. 

It’s your hub for everything — from Listen podcast episodes like this one, to Watch featured videos, to upcoming online and offline events — and it’s also the easiest way to connect with our growing community.

You can download it now from the App Store for iPhone users, or Google Play for Android.

Or if you prefer, theres always greggtheartivist.com for supportive information and more, to this and all the other episodes.

Until next time — it’s bye from me for now.