From what we understand, this was the first time that the Radical Joy for Hard Times practice had been carried out at the University of Malta, as part of an experimental outdoor teaching project on youth research and youth work. Two groups of students — 14 people in total — went to the Mediterranean Institute’s Farmhouse on the outskirts of the campus. Research Professor Sofia Laine from the Finnish Youth Research Society worked as a visiting lecturer and field guide, introducing the students to the Earth Exchange practice. This took place the day before Earth Day on 21 April 2026.

Sofia had asked the faculty beforehand for some possible ‘wounded environments’ near the classrooms. They recommended the Mediterranean Institute Farmhouse and its surroundings. This farmhouse is a traditional Maltese farmhouse called Ir-razzet tal-Hursun, and many of them are 300–500 years old. They have thick limestone walls, central courtyards and rustic charm. Historically used for agriculture, many have been converted into luxurious holiday homes with pools, particularly on the island of Gozo. The farmhouse therefore symbolises urbanisation, modernisation, and the disappearance of a traditional culture that had provided self-sufficiency and sustainable living conditions in many ways for hundreds of years in Malta.

When we arrived, Sofia asked the participants if they were familiar with the place. To her surprise, only three out of 14 had visited the place before, and they had only done so very quickly. The participants were more familiar with the car park next to the farmhouse, as they had left their cars there while attending classes. On the other hand, everyone from the countryside was very familiar with “Ir-razzett tal-Hursun” in general and with the current modernisation of the farmhouses. Participants estimated that only a few people still live, garden and maintain the farmhouse in a traditional way; this kind of self-sufficient lifestyle is becoming increasingly rare.

In the second phase, participants were encouraged to explore the farmhouse. They were asked to observe it outside, alone and in silence using all their senses and to pay attention to what caught their attention. After 10–15 minutes, the participants returned from their individual observations to a sharing circle. They found grounding, stillness and quietness – a less stressful world that also reminded them of their childhood, adolescence and family history. They shared memories of similar natural environments that had evoked positive feelings, leading many of them to wonder why they did not spend more time in such places. As one participant wrote, “It reminded me to use nature to calm my anxiety and feel energised, and to take a break from screens.”

The collective discussion revealed that studying outdoors in wounded environments could benefit students and educators in many ways. Some participants reflected on the fact that everyone and everything is wounded to some extent, and that realising this together can also be a positive experience. Participants also experienced how the setting encouraged horizontal dialogue and learning from each other within the group, breaking the traditional teacher–student dichotomy. The multi-species environment encouraged diverse thoughts, ideas and experiences. There was no single correct answer or comment, but rather a space that invited everyone to contribute. As one of the participants wrote, “Sharing different thoughts about the same place, how nice it is to appreciate the outdoors and how often we don’t really understand how much potential we can discover through the outdoors.”

With another group, actively sharing and visualising alternatives to the present situation in the education system, at university and in society took place. Opening the senses in this multi-species environment invited creative new perspectives to emerge. As Sylvia Brinton Perera writes (2021, pp. 32–33): “This means seeing, not what might be good or bad, but what exsist before judgement, which is always messy and full of affect and of the preverbal percepts of the near senses (touch, smell, taste). This implies not caring first and foremost about relatedness to an outer other, not to a collective gestalt or imperative. Seeing this way – which is initially so frightening because it cannot be validated by the collective – can provide what Logos consciousness fears as mere chaos, with the possibilities of a totally fresh perception, a new pattern, a creative perspective, a never ending exploration.”

At the next stage, we produced a beautiful gift together for this place. The first group made a bird. The second group made a fish. Some wishes for the place were said aloud. For example, that humans should respect these kinds of spaces more and spend more time in them. It was also suggested that the education system, even at university level, could benefit from outdoor classes in a variety of ways.

The final stage was an invitation to choose another living being that lives in this place and speak from its perspective, asking how the place has changed over time, how the living being is currently doing and what humans could learn from it.  The creatures we chose included butterflies, birds, cats, rats, ants, snails, olive trees and wine. We found the interconnectedness between us, and realised that there is much for humans to learn from all these beautiful and important beings.

Source: Sylvia Brinton Perera (2021) Descent to the Goddess. A way of Initiation for Women. Studies in Jungian Psychology by Jungian Analysts. Toronto: Inner City Books.