No one is an environmentalist by birth. It is only your path

When Yann Arthus-Bertrand spoke the words, “No one is an environmentalist by birth. It is only your path, your life, your travels that awaken you,” he was not merely reflecting on his own journey but on the awakening of the human spirit itself. These words are born from the wisdom of experience, from the realization that care for the earth is not an instinct, but a revelation. One does not emerge from the womb with the love of nature engraved upon the heart—it must be awakened through encounter, through wonder, and through the slow unfolding of understanding. To become an environmentalist, one must first become alive to the miracle of the world, and alive to its suffering.

The origin of this truth lies in Arthus-Bertrand’s life as a photographer, aviator, and witness to the planet’s beauty and wounds. He has soared above deserts, jungles, oceans, and cities, capturing in his lens both the glory and the tragedy of the Earth. In his travels, he saw that the world is a living being, both fragile and fierce—a mother of infinite faces. He also saw the scars left upon her: forests felled, rivers poisoned, skies clouded with the smoke of human haste. It was not from theory but from journey that his love for nature was born. Through seeing, he came to care; through caring, he came to act. Thus, he reminds us that love of the earth is not inherited—it is learned through experience, through the eyes that open and the heart that listens.

To awaken to the earth is to step out of oneself and into the vastness of creation. The mountains, the seas, the winds—they all speak, but only to those who have learned to hear. Many live their lives surrounded by beauty yet never truly see it; they walk among miracles and call them ordinary. But when one has traveled far enough—whether across lands or deep within the self—one begins to perceive the delicate threads that connect all life. This is the awakening Arthus-Bertrand speaks of: the moment when the soul recognizes that it is not apart from nature, but a part of her.

History, too, bears witness to this transformation of awakening. Consider the story of John Muir, the wanderer of the American wilderness. As a young man, he worked in factories, chasing invention and progress. But an accident blinded him for many days, and when his sight returned, he saw the world as though for the first time. He left behind the machines and walked into the mountains of California, where he found his true calling—to defend the wilderness and awaken others to its sacredness. Like Arthus-Bertrand, Muir discovered that reverence for nature is not born in comfort, but in journey, in suffering, in encounter. Through the trials of life, one’s heart opens to the silent wisdom of the earth.

The quote also reveals a deeper truth about human nature: that awakening requires movement. The one who remains still—trapped in routine, bound by walls of comfort—may never feel the pulse of the living world. It is through travel, through meeting new lands and people, that empathy grows. When we walk upon the soil of foreign fields, when we see the rivers that feed distant villages, when we witness the vanishing of forests and the rising of deserts, we come to understand that the planet is not a collection of separate nations, but one single body. And to harm one part of it is to wound the whole.

To be an environmentalist, then, is not to wear a title, but to live in awareness. It is not a badge of birth, but the fruit of awakening. Anyone may claim love for the earth, but true love demands responsibility. It demands that we act—not from guilt, but from gratitude. The awakened one does not merely admire the sunset; they protect the light that makes it possible. They do not only weep for the dying forest; they plant and restore and teach others to cherish what remains. This is the path that Arthus-Bertrand calls us to walk: a path of seeing, feeling, and acting as one with the living world.

And so, let the lesson of his words echo in every heart: you are not born with reverence—you must earn it through attention and experience. Step outside, wander, listen to the whisper of the leaves and the song of the wind. Let the beauty of the earth awaken you, and let its pain stir you to compassion. For only those who have truly seen the world can truly love it, and only those who love it can save it. Awakening is not a single moment—it is a lifelong journey, a path walked by those brave enough to feel both the wonder and the weight of the world.

Thus, as the ancients taught that wisdom begins in wonder, so too does stewardship begin in awakening. Go forth and let your life become that journey. Look upon the Earth not as a resource, but as a companion, a teacher, a living mirror of your own soul. For in protecting her, you protect yourself—and in awakening to her, you awaken to what it means to be fully human.