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I am SO THRILLED to announce my next book (forthcoming early 2027)! I am returning to @runningpressbooks with Make Me Good Soil: Poems of Interbeing. Thank you deeply to my agent @karalearota and @thompsonlitagency for helping this project find a home.

“Author of THE BODY IS A DOORWAY Sophie Strand’s MAKE ME GOOD SOIL, a poetry collection that explores personal love, loss, trauma, illness, and healing while acknowledging that we are nourished and constituted by our embodied relationships with the natural world, to Kate Anderson at Running Press, in an exclusive submission, for publication in spring 2026, by Kara Rota at Thompson Literary Agency (world).”

For most of my life I have identified as a poet first and foremost. I studied poetry in college and published several chapbooks and supported my early life as a writer with poetry awards. But my life as a public and published writer has predominantly been in the world of fiction and non-fiction. Poems for me are the product of overflow. They are where the love and grief and awe go when they overflow the cup of my body, my being, and my stories.They oftentimes feel like the purest essence of my animist and ecosensual being. I am so excited to finally be able to share these odes to interbeing and ecological embodiment.

One of the biggest inspirations behind my new book The Body Is a Doorway was reframing the self as extended into a multi-species web of relationships. If we are harming the earth, we are harming our own extended body and mind. The metaphor that I live/write/pray towards is that of the spider in its web. Weaving and unweaving. Thinking and feeling with more than just my isolated anthropocentrism. This clip is from my 2023 class I did with @scienceandnonduality_ that inspired much of The Body Is a Doorway.

It’s the official pub day of The Body Is a Doorway and I am overwhelmed with gratitude that I am still here. That I got to write this book and live to see it published. That I get to share these stories with you. Thank you to the entangled network of friends and allies and beings that helped this book take root in a compost heal and send up its seedling 🌱

“The Body Is a Doorway dives into the murky waters of sickness and trauma, as well as the resonant challenges and joys of friendship, young adulthood, first love, and fertility. Throughout, in precise, sparkling language, it explores questions both personal and universal: Is there healing beyond the human? Beyond the hope for a cure or a happy ending? Is there something wilder and more symbiotic beyond narrow ideas of well-being?

In this lyrical, radically expansive self-portrait, celebrated poet, author, and lecturer Sophie Strand explores—with searing insight and honesty—the intersecting spaces of her own chronic illness, the complex ecology of a changing world, and the very nature of the stories we tell ourselves.

In a work both expansively tender and shockingly frank, Sophie Strand offers readers a window onto her own winding journey through the maze of chronic illness—a web not unlike those created by the mycorrizhal fungi whose networks she begins to see as a metaphor for the profound connections between all species and the earth. Grounded deeply in the mountains of the Hudson Valley, each moment of this far-reaching narrative snakes its way through the multi-layered ecology of the land around us, from the stunningly powerful pollen of a phlox plant to the unexpected beauty and wisdom of the woodchuck.”

It’s the official pub day of The Body Is a Doorway and I am overwhelmed with gratitude that I am still here. That I got to write this book and live to see it published. That I get to share these stories with you. Thank you to the entangled network of friends and allies and beings that helped this book take root in a compost heal and send up its seedling 🌱

“The Body Is a Doorway dives into the murky waters of sickness and trauma, as well as the resonant challenges and joys of friendship, young adulthood, first love, and fertility. Throughout, in precise, sparkling language, it explores questions both personal and universal: Is there healing beyond the human? Beyond the hope for a cure or a happy ending? Is there something wilder and more symbiotic beyond narrow ideas of well-being?

In this lyrical, radically expansive self-portrait, celebrated poet, author, and lecturer Sophie Strand explores—with searing insight and honesty—the intersecting spaces of her own chronic illness, the complex ecology of a changing world, and the very nature of the stories we tell ourselves.

In a work both expansively tender and shockingly frank, Sophie Strand offers readers a window onto her own winding journey through the maze of chronic illness—a web not unlike those created by the mycorrizhal fungi whose networks she begins to see as a metaphor for the profound connections between all species and the earth. Grounded deeply in the mountains of the Hudson Valley, each moment of this far-reaching narrative snakes its way through the multi-layered ecology of the land around us, from the stunningly powerful pollen of a phlox plant to the unexpected beauty and wisdom of the woodchuck.”

It’s the official pub day of The Body Is a Doorway and I am overwhelmed with gratitude that I am still here. That I got to write this book and live to see it published. That I get to share these stories with you. Thank you to the entangled network of friends and allies and beings that helped this book take root in a compost heal and send up its seedling 🌱

“The Body Is a Doorway dives into the murky waters of sickness and trauma, as well as the resonant challenges and joys of friendship, young adulthood, first love, and fertility. Throughout, in precise, sparkling language, it explores questions both personal and universal: Is there healing beyond the human? Beyond the hope for a cure or a happy ending? Is there something wilder and more symbiotic beyond narrow ideas of well-being?

In this lyrical, radically expansive self-portrait, celebrated poet, author, and lecturer Sophie Strand explores—with searing insight and honesty—the intersecting spaces of her own chronic illness, the complex ecology of a changing world, and the very nature of the stories we tell ourselves.

In a work both expansively tender and shockingly frank, Sophie Strand offers readers a window onto her own winding journey through the maze of chronic illness—a web not unlike those created by the mycorrizhal fungi whose networks she begins to see as a metaphor for the profound connections between all species and the earth. Grounded deeply in the mountains of the Hudson Valley, each moment of this far-reaching narrative snakes its way through the multi-layered ecology of the land around us, from the stunningly powerful pollen of a phlox plant to the unexpected beauty and wisdom of the woodchuck.”

@jenamalone breaks down the juxtaposition at the heart of The Flowering Wand: swords vs. wands.

To hear Jena and Chris talk more about the book that changed her life, hit the link in our bio!

#books #bookstagram #booksbooksbooks #bookrecs #bookish

“I think also dark matter and energy, the very invisible connective tissue of the cosmos. Although we cannot measure this matter, it makes up 27% of the universe and our own bodies. All of us, whether we know it or not, are made up of otherness. We are threaded through with unknowability. We are more like constellations, a few stars flung against empty space, pretending at a shape.

I want a cure for Ehlers Danlos and its comorbidities including but not limited to POTS (postural orthostatic tachycardia), gastroparesis, mast cell activation syndrome, endometriosis…the list goes on and on. I want more people to understand the complexity of this condition and to advocate for research into its management and cure. But I also desperately want to join hands with those of you who are also navigating this disease and I want to say, “We are constellated beings. We are masters of interstitial intelligence, thinking with relationships rather than individualism. We think in-between the joints. In the friction and uncertainty. We are the tilled ground where other species can take root.”

https://sophiestrand.substack.com/p/connective-tissue-disease-as-mycelial

“May is Ehlers Danlos Syndrome Awareness month, the name for the genetic connective tissue disease with over thirteen different subtypes. Think of mycorrhizal fungi, those thin filamentous threads that weave together a forest, ferrying nutrients from tree to tree, decomposing dead matter, constituting the very structural integrity of the soil. Connective tissue is the mycorrhizal system of the body. It is the tissue that supports, communicates between, connects, and distinguishes all the different systems in your body. But in Ehlers Danlos, collagen is undermined, and your connective tissue is as well. This doesn’t just cause joint issues and pain. It implicates multiple bodily systems and organs. Your eyes get milky, tracking floaters. Your aorta droops and dissects. Your vascular system is like delicate tissue paper, susceptible to minute weather pressure systems and environmental changes, wind and thunderstorms and heat playing you like an instrument. You stand up and your heart races and you faint. Your joints pop in and out of joint throughout the day. True, you are unusually extremely flexible which can be seen as a boon. It’s hypothesized that both Elvis and Houdini had EDS, and that both of these conditions are what contributed to their deaths. Your spine curves and herniates. The very cells of your lung relax out of shape so that you no longer breathe correctly. Your stomach suffers from paralysis. Your skin is velveteen, pleasing to the touch but easily scarred and hard to heal. And, for reasons that have yet to be proven, Ehlers-Danlos predisposes you to mast cell disease, endometriosis, orthostatic tachycardia and a host of other strange immunological diseases…

I think also dark matter and energy, the very invisible connective tissue of the cosmos. Although we cannot measure this matter, it makes up 27% of the universe and our own bodies. All of us, whether we know it or not, are made up of otherness. We are threaded through with unknowability. We are more like constellations, a few stars flung against empty space, pretending at a shape.

Read the rest of the essay on substack.

“May is Ehlers Danlos Syndrome Awareness month, the name for the genetic connective tissue disease with over thirteen different subtypes. Think of mycorrhizal fungi, those thin filamentous threads that weave together a forest, ferrying nutrients from tree to tree, decomposing dead matter, constituting the very structural integrity of the soil. Connective tissue is the mycorrhizal system of the body. It is the tissue that supports, communicates between, connects, and distinguishes all the different systems in your body. But in Ehlers Danlos, collagen is undermined, and your connective tissue is as well. This doesn’t just cause joint issues and pain. It implicates multiple bodily systems and organs. Your eyes get milky, tracking floaters. Your aorta droops and dissects. Your vascular system is like delicate tissue paper, susceptible to minute weather pressure systems and environmental changes, wind and thunderstorms and heat playing you like an instrument. You stand up and your heart races and you faint. Your joints pop in and out of joint throughout the day. True, you are unusually extremely flexible which can be seen as a boon. It’s hypothesized that both Elvis and Houdini had EDS, and that both of these conditions are what contributed to their deaths. Your spine curves and herniates. The very cells of your lung relax out of shape so that you no longer breathe correctly. Your stomach suffers from paralysis. Your skin is velveteen, pleasing to the touch but easily scarred and hard to heal. And, for reasons that have yet to be proven, Ehlers-Danlos predisposes you to mast cell disease, endometriosis, orthostatic tachycardia and a host of other strange immunological diseases…

I think also dark matter and energy, the very invisible connective tissue of the cosmos. Although we cannot measure this matter, it makes up 27% of the universe and our own bodies. All of us, whether we know it or not, are made up of otherness. We are threaded through with unknowability. We are more like constellations, a few stars flung against empty space, pretending at a shape.

Read the rest of the essay on substack.

“May is Ehlers Danlos Syndrome Awareness month, the name for the genetic connective tissue disease with over thirteen different subtypes. Think of mycorrhizal fungi, those thin filamentous threads that weave together a forest, ferrying nutrients from tree to tree, decomposing dead matter, constituting the very structural integrity of the soil. Connective tissue is the mycorrhizal system of the body. It is the tissue that supports, communicates between, connects, and distinguishes all the different systems in your body. But in Ehlers Danlos, collagen is undermined, and your connective tissue is as well. This doesn’t just cause joint issues and pain. It implicates multiple bodily systems and organs. Your eyes get milky, tracking floaters. Your aorta droops and dissects. Your vascular system is like delicate tissue paper, susceptible to minute weather pressure systems and environmental changes, wind and thunderstorms and heat playing you like an instrument. You stand up and your heart races and you faint. Your joints pop in and out of joint throughout the day. True, you are unusually extremely flexible which can be seen as a boon. It’s hypothesized that both Elvis and Houdini had EDS, and that both of these conditions are what contributed to their deaths. Your spine curves and herniates. The very cells of your lung relax out of shape so that you no longer breathe correctly. Your stomach suffers from paralysis. Your skin is velveteen, pleasing to the touch but easily scarred and hard to heal. And, for reasons that have yet to be proven, Ehlers-Danlos predisposes you to mast cell disease, endometriosis, orthostatic tachycardia and a host of other strange immunological diseases…

I think also dark matter and energy, the very invisible connective tissue of the cosmos. Although we cannot measure this matter, it makes up 27% of the universe and our own bodies. All of us, whether we know it or not, are made up of otherness. We are threaded through with unknowability. We are more like constellations, a few stars flung against empty space, pretending at a shape.

Read the rest of the essay on substack.

Animism reminds us that the world is not a backdrop but a gathering of presences. The forest is not scenery. The river is not a resource. The soil is not a thing. They are our neighbors. They are our kin.

They are beings already speaking, already offering, already reaching toward relationship. In times like these when so much of the living world has been treated as material, the work of our generation may be surprisingly simple: to relearn how to listen, how to flirt with the wind again, how to kneel beside a plant as if meeting a teacher. To practice the ancient art of noticing.

Writer: @cosmogyny
Voice Narration: @ebyanzanini
Cinematography: @4n4k4, @nickmulvey & Archive Footage
Producer: @yaelmarantz
Editor: @ebyanzanini

—

El animismo nos recuerda que el mundo no es un telón de fondo, sino una reunión de presencias. El bosque no es paisaje. El río no es un recurso. La tierra no es una cosa. Son nuestros vecinos. Son nuestra familia.

Son seres que ya hablan, que ya ofrecen, que ya se extienden hacia la relación. En tiempos como estos, cuando tanto del mundo vivo ha sido tratado como material, el trabajo de nuestra generación puede ser sorprendentemente simple: reaprender a escuchar, a coquetear con el viento de nuevo, a arrodillarnos junto a una planta como si conociéramos a un maestro. Practicar el antiguo arte de notar.

Escritora: @cosmogyny
Narración: @ebyanzanini
Cinematografía: @4n4k4, @nickmulvey, material de archivo
Productora: @yaelmarantz
Editor: @ebyanzanini

If you want a signed copy of any of my books I just went in and signed a new batch at @goldennotebookbookstore in Woodstock! You can also order a signed copy from them online 🍄🌿📚

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Howdy to all the newcomers! I am an author (compost heap/troubadour/animist/lover) rooted in the Hudson Valley. When I’m not trying to identify a weird mushroom growing by my porch, researching an obscure Arthurian myth about a dog-headed knight, or basking on a hot river stone, I write poems and essays and love stories and, as of today, have three published books with a fourth on the way. I self-identify as genre-promiscuous, working in the overlap of ecology, history, myth, and romance.

You can find my books online or (and I always recommend this) pick up/order from your local indie bookstore.

The Flowering Wand is a deep dive into the history of masculine myths that predate patriarchy, alongside a healthy dollop of fungal science and ecological musings.

The Madonna Secret is a historical fiction rewilding of Mary Magdalene’s story.

The Body Is a Doorway is a memoir about my journey with incurable chronic illness that tries to trouble dominant paradigms of wellness, anthropocentrism, and completion with ecology.

I have a substack Make Me Good Soil where I regularly share essays, research, work-in-progress, reading lists, lectures, and interviews.

A collection of my poetry Make Me Good Soil is forthcoming from @runningpressbooks in early spring 2026.

Spores of gratitude to you all! 🌬️ ✨ 🍄

Sneak peak of my talk on myth and empire in @advaya.life new course Otherworlds 🍄 🦌

So enjoyed an opportunity for me and @henry.r.kramer to continue our rambling many years long conversation for @schoolofattention

The quote I’m referencing here is my favorite by Simone Weil from her essay Attention and Will: “Attention, taken to its highest degree, is the same thing as prayer. It presupposes faith and love.

Absolutely unmixed attention is prayer.

If we turn our mind toward the good, it is impossible that little by little the whole soul will not be attracted thereto in spite of itself.”