Soul Space
“There can be occasions when we suddenly and involuntarily find ourselves loving the natural world with a startling intensity, in a burst of emotion which we may not fully understand, and the only word that seems to be appropriate for this feeling is… Joy.”
~ Michael McCarthy
It’s a gentle morning. Dew glistens on the leaves, and the veil of fog is slowly lifting. The sun is just waking up, gradually easing itself up and over the mountains. Bright, golden rays silently unfold and stretch across the sky. I pull into my usual spot. Before I even exit my car, I can feel myself already begin to untangle.
The group will arrive in about 30 minutes. I fling my pack over my shoulder and head down the trail. I welcome this time, before everyone arrives, to settle in with the forest.
I find my tree friend. I say hello and offer him a good morning. I climb up into his lap and rest my back against him. He welcomes me. I inhale. I close my eyes and tune in to the rhythm of the waking of the woods. Initially my mind does not want to surrender its noise or attempt to tame the three-ring circus. I breathe deep and intentional and exchange my breath with the forest. I fill my insides with the beauty of this place. My skin starts to tingle. My ears respond to the melody. The scents of the earth smell like nostalgia and simplicity. I sense that my soul is finally beginning to unwind and expand.
For the next couple of hours, I will be guiding a forest therapy walk. But first I must remember that I am a guide who is guided. I am here to work in partnership with the more-than-human world to accompany and support others on their journey through which they encounter and embody the whole of who they are. It is here we will briefly step away from the tamed world and reconnect with the wild world. A sensory experience awaits.
I climb down from the tree. My feet rest upon the soft cushion of the forest floor. It feels light yet sturdy. It feels soft yet unyielding. It feels right to be connected to this place.
As I make my way back to greet my group and begin our walk, I can sense my pace has slowed. I feel more aligned with the pulse of life. I feel grounded and reminded of the vastness of connection.
A woman is coming up behind me on my path. I move to one side so she can pass as I am now moving at a snail’s pace.
She spots the journal in my hand and asks me if I work here.
“Sort of. “ I respond. “I’m taking notes as I listen to the whispers of the trees.”
She asked, “You can hear the trees?
“Yes.” I say. “Not always, but sometimes.”
She smiles and breathes a sigh of relief. “Once I thought I heard the trees, but I wasn’t sure. I was afraid I was actually - finally - losing my mind.”
I smiled and nodded.
She went on, “My son is autistic. He’s already way ahead of me on this path. I try to bring him here as much as I can. I have no idea how he knows his way around here. I would be lost in the midst of all of this.” She motioned and waved her arms to acknowledge the forest. “It’s the only place I have found where he seems comfortable. Really… he just… belongs here.”
My heart felt like it was going to explode. I was so happy she had discovered this connection for her son.
As we departed, I said, “Not everything is always as it appears. You thought you were loosing your mind when you heard the trees. Perhaps that’s exactly what was intended for you in that moment. Perhaps that was Nature’s way of getting you out of your head. Perhaps it’s not always a bad thing to occasionally loose that.
We are Nature. We have somehow convinced ourselves we are separate from it. Outdoor environments are some of the few places we can engage all five of our senses, and, therefore, essentially feel the most alive. We are wired to receive all the benefits it has to offer. We weren’t meant to be constantly plugged in sitting under florescent lights staring at screens all day. It’s making us sick.
A guided forest therapy walk invites us to slow down. It summons us to get out of our heads and reconnect with our senses. Along with urban living comes stress, depression, and anxiety. Nature acts as an antidote. It offers sights and sounds that resonate with us at our core. Through a series of sensory-based invitations, it promotes health and wellness. The invitations will help you to naturally reset your nervous system and ramp up your immunity.
Dr. Qing Li, a world-renowned expert in forest medicine, explains it as a slow, contemplative walk without a fixed agenda in a setting free of human-made stimuli with the assistance of a guide who has been trained to facilitate the practitioner’s attention to his or her sensory experience. He suggests that the forest is like a mother, a sacred place, a gift to us humans from the divine. It is a paradise of healing. Mother Nature fills us with wonder and curiosity and invites us in. The art of forest bathing is the art of connecting with nature through the senses. All we have to do is accept the invitation; Mother Nature does the rest.
Among the other powerful physical health benefits, the forest also has the ability to hold the stories that no longer serve us. It is a safe place for us to release them. It invites us to let them go in order to create space for new experiences and fresh opportunities.
“I am losing precious days. I am degenerating into a machine for making money. I am learning nothing in this trivial world of men. I must break away and get out into the mountains to learn the news.”
~ John Muir
The participants will be arriving soon. They will bring with them their own monkey minds and their own stories. With the certainty of knowing the forest has my back, I am confident they will have the experience they are supposed to have during our time together. Whatever the outcome, the impact is real. Time spent with nature, in our natural habitat and surroundings, free of all the human-made stuff, giving our minds a rest while filling our tanks with unadulterated goodness, will soothe our bodies and invigorate our souls.
The forest is the therapist. I am a guide that helps open the doors.