Paths of the Soul: Primal Instincts as Guides for Eco-Synchronization

Instincts are not merely biological impulses designed for survival; they are primordial forces that emerge from the interconnection between body, mind, soul, and world. They act as internal pathways that remind us of our belonging to the Web of Life, guiding us through the flow of existence.

From an ecopsychological perspective, we can understand instincts as essential movements of life within us, expressions of the Earth’s intelligence in our embodied consciousness. They are not just automatic responses but bridges between matter and the transcendent, between the immediacy of the body and the vastness of the soul.

In this sense, Teresita Domínguez (2017), in her presentation The Place of Instincts in Ecopsychotherapy, states that “instincts are neither a universal panacea nor the source of our misfortunes. They are simply our nature, our animality, and, above all, our vitality. But of course, we are not going to give them free rein (…) and expose ourselves to their expression just like that. We wish to integrate them into our lives, allowing ourselves to be moved by them in a way we can sustain, according to our personality structure, but through a process that generates health.”

This perspective invites us to understand that rewilding is not a chaotic return to uncontrolled impulses but a conscious process of reintegrating our instincts in balance with our psyche and our relationship with the world. It is not about opposing the instinctual to the rational or the cultural but recognizing that in our animality also lies our vitality and our ability to inhabit the planet fully.

From this perspective, we can approach instincts as ecopsychological pathways that guide our reconnection with life. They are compasses that allow us to reorient ourselves within a culture that has tended to repress or distort them. Rewilding invites us to remember these pathways not as mere reactive mechanisms but as roads leading to the fullness of the human in relation to the more-than-human.

Instincts as Pathways of the Soul

Each primordial instinct offers us a guide back to a deep connection with life. They are rhythms of the cosmos inscribed in our being.

Why have we forgotten these instincts?

Modernity, with its emphasis on rationality and the separation of humans from nature, has contributed to the loss of our primordial instincts. Urbanization, technology, and social structures that prioritize competition over collaboration have eroded our innate connection with the Earth and with ourselves. But this forgetting is not accidental: just as we fear the wild nature outside and seek to domesticate it, we also fear the nature within—the instinctive force that inhabits us. In an attempt to control everything, we have repressed the deep rhythms of life that beat in our bodies, our emotions, and our psyche. Instincts, in their essence, are that living nature within us, and by attempting to deny or domesticate them, we have lost essential access to our vitality, our innate wisdom, and our sense of belonging to the world.

Recovering the Instincts: A Path Back

If we have forgotten our instincts, we can also remember them. They are not lost, only dormant, waiting to be reawakened through conscious attention and reconnection with life. Each primordial instinct offers a pathway toward a fuller and more harmonious experience with the Earth and with ourselves. By recognizing and reintegrating them, we can restore the vitality of our existence and reintegrate ourselves into the fabric of the living world.

1. Instinct of Belonging: The Call of the Great Body

Since the beginning of time, life has woven networks of interdependence, where every being is part of a greater fabric. We are not isolated entities but rather cells of a living organism. The instinct of belonging is the memory of this deep connection, the innate knowledge that we are not alone but interwoven with all that exists. It reminds us that the Earth is our home, that our skin is an extension of the landscape, that the air we breathe has been exhaled by the forests, and that the water in our bodies has traveled through rivers and oceans long before inhabiting us. This instinct restores the certainty that separation is an illusion and that existence only makes sense within the great body of life (Abram, 1996).

However, modernity has fragmented us, pushing us to see ourselves as disconnected individuals, breaking the ties that bind us to the Earth and to one another. We have distanced ourselves from natural cycles, from community, and from the ancestral memory that tells us that belonging is our birthright. In clinical practice, this existential exile manifests as deep loneliness, uprootedness, and emptiness. The feeling of not having a place, of not being part of anything meaningful, is one of the most common wounds in contemporary humanity (Roszak, 1992). Many people seek belonging in structures that cannot offer it: in consumerism, in overproductivity, in a hyper-individualism that only accentuates isolation. But the longing persists, because belonging is not a luxury but a fundamental instinct of the soul.

Indigenous communities have preserved a deep connection with the Earth as their identity and root. For them, the land is sacred not only because it provides sustenance but because it holds the spirits of ancestors, history, and the sense of continuity in an eternal spiral (Kimmerer, 2013). Indigenous peoples introduce themselves by saying “I am of the river,” “I am of the forest,” expressing not just a place of origin but an inseparable belonging. This way of inhabiting the world reminds us that true belonging is not a territorial attachment but a recognition that we are part of a living system that sustains us and which we must care for.

Ecopsychology indicates that the forgetting of this instinct is one of the deepest causes of contemporary distress. Theodore Roszak (1992) states it clearly: “The core of the mind is the ecological unconscious. For Ecopsychology, the repression of the ecological unconscious is the deepest root of the collective madness of industrial society.”

When we repress our connection with the living world, we become internally fragmented, losing the sense of “We.”

Restoring the instinct of belonging does not simply mean reconnecting with external nature but also healing the feeling of separation within ourselves. It involves remembering that we belong to a greater story, that our existence is rooted in a lineage of relationships that transcend us. Every breath is an act of communion with the trees. Every step on the Earth is a reunion with the primordial home.

👉 When the Instinct of Belonging is denied, existential loneliness and alienation emerge. When restored, it awakens the sacred sense of “We.”

2. Instinct of Care: The Intelligence of the Heart

   The instinct of care, beyond a mere biological response, manifests as a cosmic force that sustains harmony in ecosystems and human relationships. This principle is evident in nature: mycorrhizal networks in forests allow trees to share nutrients and support each other, demonstrating a system of care and natural collaboration (Simard, 2021). Similarly, wolves, when reintroduced into certain habitats, have restored the balance of forests, highlighting how the care and presence of a species can revitalize an entire ecosystem.

   In our society, however, the instinct of care is often repressed or devalued. People who dedicate themselves to caregiving, such as nurses, caregivers, and social workers (most often women), frequently face precarious working conditions, low wages, and a lack of recognition (Federici, 2013). This devaluation reflects a cultural tendency to minimize the importance of care, leading to its marginalization and precarization. Exploring this issue reveals how our culture has sidelined this essential instinct and how we can reclaim it.

   Psychologist and feminist Carol Gilligan (1982) has been a prominent voice in the revaluation of care. In her book In a Different Voice, Gilligan introduces the “ethics of care,” emphasizing that women often approach moral dilemmas from a perspective of responsibility and relationships, in contrast to an ethics of justice more focused on rules and rights. Gilligan argues that care is a fundamental human capacity that has historically been underestimated in traditional ethical theories. In a recent interview, she emphasized: “Empathy and care are inherent to human beings and essential for our survival and that of the planet” (Gilligan, 2011).

   When the instinct of care flourishes, active compassion and the regeneration of life are born. The practice of Eco-Somatic Therapy, developed by Adriana Ordóñez Ortiz (n.d.), integrates the body and nature in therapeutic processes, recognizing that human well-being is intrinsically linked to the well-being of the planet. This holistic perspective promotes a reconnection with our natural essence and fosters a culture of care for ourselves and the environment we inhabit.

   By reclaiming and nurturing the instinct of care, we not only heal our interpersonal relationships but also contribute to the health and balance of the Earth. Recognizing care as an intelligence of the heart invites us to live in harmony with all beings, fostering a more compassionate and sustainable existence.

   👉 When the instinct of care is repressed, indifference and extractivism emerge. When it flourishes, active compassion and the regeneration of life arise.

3. Instinct of Reciprocity: The Dance of Giving and Receiving

   Nothing in life exists in isolation. From the air we breathe to the food that nourishes us, everything in nature is an act of constant exchange. The instinct of reciprocity reminds us of this fundamental truth: life thrives in giving and receiving, in the ability to actively participate in the web of interdependencies that sustains us. It invites us to see the world not as a space for exploitation but as a dance of balance, where each being contributes something and, in turn, receives what it needs.

   Ancestral wisdom has preserved this knowledge over time, understanding that taking without giving back disrupts the natural flow of life. In the Andes, this understanding is embodied in Ayni, a fundamental principle of reciprocity that governs the relationship between humans and nature, as well as among communities (Van Kessel, 1996). Ayni means “today for you, tomorrow for me,” but it goes far beyond a simple exchange: it is a way of life based on balanced giving and receiving, ensuring that every action has its return in a continuous cycle of harmony. In the Andean cosmovision, nothing exists in isolation; everything that is received must be reciprocated, for individual well-being can only exist within collective well-being.

   This principle is not just an abstract idea but a tangible practice expressed in many forms. In Andean communities, Ayni is manifested in mutual aid during harvests, in sharing resources without expecting immediate gain, and in the relationship with Pachamama (Rengifo, 1998). Before sowing, offerings are made to the Earth in gratitude for what it will provide, recognizing that one cannot simply take without giving back. This same principle is reflected in ecosystems: in forests, for example, lichens fix nitrogen in the soil, enriching the ecosystem, while trees provide them with support and a suitable microclimate for their development (Kimmerer, 2013). Thus, in nature, there are no transactions or excessive accumulation, only a constant flow of exchange in which all participants contribute to the overall balance.

   When this instinct is blocked, a culture of consumption and accumulation arises, breaking this sacred cycle. We were taught to take without gratitude, to receive without giving back. The consequence is a world where greed replaces generosity, and disconnection leaves us unsatisfied even when we have more than we need. But when the instinct of reciprocity awakens, we understand that every gesture has an impact on the symphony of life and that living in harmony means consciously participating in the dance of giving and receiving.

   The scientist and writer Robin Wall Kimmerer (2013) expresses this idea clearly in Braiding Sweetgrass:

   “To be generous, one must know how to receive. To receive, one must know how to give. This is the fundamental ecological principle of life on Earth.”

   Recognizing reciprocity as an essential force returns us to a way of being in the world where gratitude, respect, and balance guide our actions. It invites us to ask ourselves:

   • What am I offering to the world?
   • How am I receiving what life gives me?

   In Ayni, in the dance of reciprocity, lies the key to restoring our relationship with the Earth and with one another.

   👉 When the instinct of reciprocity is blocked, a culture of consumption and accumulation arises. When it awakens, we recognize that every gesture has an impact on the symphony of the world.

4. Instinct of Collaboration: The Wisdom of Swarms

   Life did not conquer the planet through aggression but through networks of collaboration. Since the very origins of existence, cooperation has been a fundamental force in evolution. Bacteria, by forming complex symbiotic relationships, gave rise to the breathable atmosphere. Eukaryotic cells, which allowed for the biological diversity we know today, were born from the integration of simpler organisms in a process of symbiogenesis. In the skies, flocks of birds migrate in perfect synchronization without a single leader, guided by a sophisticated system of connection between individuals.

   The biologist Lynn Margulis (1998), in her theory of symbiogenesis, emphasizes that cooperation and the integration of different organisms have been driving forces in the evolution of life. She asserts that “symbiosis, the union of different organisms to form new collectives, has proven to be the most important force of change on Earth.” This perspective challenges the notion that competition is the primary driver of evolution, highlighting instead the importance of collaboration and reciprocity in the creation of new life forms. In her book Symbiotic Planet, Margulis (1998) insists that “life did not conquer the planet through aggression, but through networks of collaboration.”

   However, modernity has exalted competition as the engine of progress. From economics to education, we are taught to excel, to win, to stand out above others. But what do we lose when we stop collaborating? When this instinct is suppressed, social fragmentation, distrust, and extreme individualism emerge. We find ourselves in a world where community structures weaken and ego prevails over the web of relationships that sustains life.

   Ecopsychology invites us to cultivate what Joanna Macy (2007) calls the “Green Self”—an expanded identity that does not perceive itself as an isolated individual but as part of a larger system. For Macy, the “Green Self” is the awareness that our well-being cannot be separated from the well-being of the living world, and that our identity does not end at the skin but extends to rivers, forests, and ecosystems. In nature, every being plays a role within a larger network. No tree grows alone, no creature survives without depending on others. When we integrate this awareness into our communities, we transform competition into cooperation and fragmentation into networks of mutual support.

   This instinct invites us to ask:

   • How can we collaborate more?
   • How can we weave resilient networks?

   The answer lies in the intelligence of swarms, in the wisdom of nature, which teaches us that true power does not reside in the struggle for dominance but in the ability to weave bonds of mutual support.

   👉 When the instinct of collaboration is suppressed, destructive competition and social fragmentation arise. When honored, networks of support and resilient communities emerge.

5. Instinct of Expansion and Contraction: The Pulse of Life-Death-Life

   The entire universe breathes in cycles of expansion and contraction. Just as galaxies unfold in the cosmos, so too do forests, rivers, and living beings follow a rhythm of growth, pause, transformation, and rebirth. However, modern culture has taught us to value only one part of this cycle: advancement, accumulation, limitless progress. We have been led to believe that life is a linear ascent, when in reality, it is a spiral of birth, death, and regeneration. Expansion without contraction leads to exhaustion; life without death results in stagnation.

   More than a simple “instinct of expansion,” we could speak of an instinct of transformation, which embraces both flourishing and dying, emerging and returning to the origin. Nature teaches us that evolution is not only about moving forward but also about decomposition, winter, rest, and renewal. In ecosystems, death is not an end but a transition: fallen trees in the forest do not disappear; instead, they become habitats for fungi, insects, and microorganisms, returning their energy to the web of life. The seed must die so that the tree can be born.

   Clarissa Pinkola Estés (1992), in Women Who Run With the Wolves, reminds us that this cycle of transformation is also a psychic and spiritual truth:
   “There is no true creativity without prior destruction. The seed must die so that the tree can be born.”

   Just as nature renews itself through shedding and dissolution, the human soul also needs to go through symbolic death processes in order to be reborn in greater fullness. In depth psychology, crisis is not a system failure but a necessary threshold for the regeneration of the self.

   However, we have glorified endless growth and constant productivity, disconnecting ourselves from the cyclical rhythm of existence. Paul Shepard (1998), in Coming Home to the Pleistocene, argues that the disconnection from natural cycles has been one of the greatest tragedies of civilization. He asserts that in ancestral cultures, rites of passage, contact with nature, and the acceptance of death were fundamental for a healthy psyche. Without these symbolic and real transitions, modern societies have become restless and anxious, trapped in the illusion of infinite progress.

   When this instinct is disconnected from life, it turns into a desire for domination—an impulse to control, exploit, and avoid the impermanence of things. The denial of death has led to societies that fear aging, reject rest, produce without pause, and destroy without regeneration.

   But when this instinct is aligned with the Earth, it transforms into creativity, regenerative innovation, and the evolution of the soul. Learning to inhabit natural cycles without resistance brings us back to the flow of life, teaching us that every ending holds a new beginning, and that true transformation only occurs when we embrace the dance of expansion and contraction, of life and death.

   👉 When the instinct of expansion and contraction is disconnected from life, it becomes a desire for domination. When aligned with the Earth, it becomes creativity, regenerative innovation, and the evolution of the soul.

Rewilding: Recovering the Instinctual Pathways of Life

Primal instincts are not impulses to be domesticated but wisdom to be remembered. They are ancestral imprints in our biology, psyche, and spirituality, connecting us with the intelligence of the living world. Each one is an inner compass, not only for survival but for the fullness of being—guiding us in belonging, care, reciprocity, collaboration, and transformation, teaching us how to relate to the Earth and the web of life.

However, we have lost these pathways in the process of separating from the natural world, creating societies based on disconnection, competition, and exploitation. We have forgotten that life does not thrive in isolation but through connection; that health is not an individual state but a relational harmony; that evolution is not a struggle for dominance but a process of collaboration and reciprocity.

From the perspective of Ecopsychology, recovering our instincts is not an act of regression, but of deep healing. It is about remembering our place in the world, not as dominators but as threads in the sacred web of existence. Rewilding does not call us to a chaotic return, but to a conscious reconnection with the primordial intelligence of life. It invites us to listen to the Earth through our bodies, to allow the soul to remember its forgotten language, to become permeable to the pulse of the world.

To rewild is not to go backward but to move forward toward a more lucid, free, and loving way of being on Earth. It is about awakening the deep memory of our interconnection, paving the way for a humanity that does not fear its nature but embraces it as its greatest strength.

References

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• Estés, C. P. (1992). Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype. Random House.
• Federici, S. (2013). Revolution at Point Zero: Housework, Reproduction, and Feminist Struggle. PM Press.
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• Macy, J. (2007). World as lover, world as self: Courage for global justice and ecological renewal. Parallax Press.
• Macy, J., & Johnstone, C. (2012). Active hope: How to face the mess we’re in without going crazy. New World Library.
• Margulis, L. (1998). Symbiotic planet: A new look at evolution. Basic Books.
• Ordóñez Ortiz, A. (n.d.). Terapia Eco-Somática. Vivencia Eco Somática. Retrieved from https://www.vivenciaecosomatica.com
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• Simard, S. (2021). Finding the mother tree: Discovering the wisdom of the forest. Alfred A. Knopf.
• Van Kessel, J. (1996). Sabiduría, religión y cultura andina. Centro Bartolomé de las Casas.
• Rengifo, G. (1998). El Ayni como principio de reciprocidad en los Andes. Instituto de Estudios Peruanos.