03/06/2026
In recent years, and increasingly in recent months, weeks, and days, I have found myself grieving the changes unfolding in Crete.
The pace of development is accelerating. Wild landscapes and places I love that once provided space for remembering and connection are now being literally consumed by both locals and tourists. Like many others, I have felt rage, grief, and confusion. My mind has been trying to find solutions: Do I need to stay and try to preserve something? Do I need to leave to find elsewhere what is no longer available here?
I happen to know death and rebirth cycles intimately—for I have been through many—and so I recognised that I had fallen into the usual pattern of trying to reach for answers and solutions before sitting with the full range of my feelings.
In the face of devastating changes, we are often quick to react, to protest, to search for answers and solutions, or to move into compliance, avoidance, or the search for refuge elsewhere.
But sometimes this is not what is being asked of us. Sometimes we simply need to make space for the full range of our feelings to be experienced until we have arrived at a clear and peaceful place within. Then the action we take is aligned, effective, and cannot drain us.
After taking time to listen, Crete is asking me to come closer.
I am being reminded of people who, when faced with the illness or approaching death of someone they love, unconsciously pull away because they do not know how to be with what is happening. Yet what is often needed is the opposite: to draw nearer, to listen more deeply, to cherish what is still here.
Perhaps the same is true of place.
Perhaps my grief is asking me to deepen my relationship with this land. To learn the names of more plants. To sit by the springs. To listen to the stories carried by the mountains. To continue bringing people into meaningful relationship with the places that still nourish life.
To know this land so deeply that its essence can never be lost.
I do not know what the future of Crete will be. None of us do.
But today, rather than rushing to solve what I cannot yet solve, I find myself drawn into a simpler invitation:
To move even closer and to love what is here while it is here.
I was born and raised in Crete, as were all of my ancestors from both sides of my family, as far back as I can trace. Yet I have only been in intimate conversation with this land for the last eight years. There is still so much to learn and so much yet to give back.
Perhaps this is why, after all these years, I still feel like a student of this land.
Recently, I gathered some of the stories, places, and experiences that have shaped this relationship into a book. If you feel called to explore Crete through my eyes, you can download it here:
https://alethe.space/sacred-sites-of-crete-e-book/
Image: Guardianship of Crete, original artwork by Eledina Palasoglou - inspired by the ancient story of Talos.