Nature; Healer, Therapist, Soulmate

why nature and I are in it for the long haul

I think I’ve found the one. A relationship I cherish, prioritize, nurture, and am so unbelievably grateful for. A relationship that nurtures me, supports me, listens to me, holds space for me, heals me. I’m in it for the long haul with my one true love — nature. 8 years on and still going strong, I know I’m here for a lifelong connection with this one. 

I first connected with nature in 2015. I could say much earlier than that, I’ve lived in this forest, in this mountain town, since I was just 1 year old, but I never truly appreciated what was around me until much later. Much later being a time when I was wallowing around in rock bottom, struggling seriously with my mental health and without any direction in my life. I didn’t know where to start on the path forwards, and so I started on a literal path, a dirt trail leading into the forest.

I wasn’t really looking for anything in particular, there were no expectations, I simply thought some time outside in the fresh air would help clear my head and calm my nerves. And from that first moment, out in the woods, I was forever changed.

When I first started exploring the forest, I was nervous. Though never that far from civilization, the woods behind my home felt vast, unsettlingly quiet, and devoid of people (okay, that last part I loved from the get-go). 

When I hike up the hill, meander back a little ways, make my way over another hill, all of a sudden, I end up in another world. The constant hum of vehicles on the highway disappears, replaced by the sound of trickling streams, rushing creeks and small waterfalls, twittering birds and chirpy squirrels, creaky trees moving with the breeze. The feel of pavement under my feet is replaced by thick spongey moss and soft soil. The ever-present background noise of places inhabited by people fades completely.

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It might sound idyllic, and it absolutely is, but it does feel eerie at first. It feels unsettling when you are not used to the depth of the silence, to the feeling of solitude. I remember worrying that I would get lost in the forest, turned around and be unable to find my way home again. I remember thinking about the bears, cats, coyotes, and other creatures that also call the forest home. I am used to many of these animals growing up where I did, but that doesn’t mean I want to surprise any of them as I come around a corner.

But though I was nervous, deep down, I felt something awaken within me. An almost immediate feeling of connection formed, and a lightbulb lit up in my mind suggesting that this was something I had been missing, and that it was something that I sorely needed. Quickly, after a few more adventures, my nerves calmed. I grew comfortable, I wandered further, I stayed longer.

It soon became the place I would find inspiration, my love of photography was born there, and it’s where most of my ideas come through. It became where my head felt the clearest, where my anxiety seemed to disappear. It brought new life to my body as I hiked and clambered and strengthened myself.

And so when I say that nature is my therapist, my healer, and my soulmate — I mean it with all sincerity. There are many forms of therapy and healing that I’ve explored, some have lingered and serve as a complement to my time spent outside. But nature is one I always count on, one that is always there, and one that has never once failed to lift my spirits or calm me down or guide me when I’m feeling lost.

I’ve learned over the years of the science behind forest bathing, behind grounding. And the science only confirms what I had discovered for myself, that the forest helps me heal both mentally and physically, it helps me feel more myself, and it helps me in ways I likely haven’t even realized yet.

Forest bathing is a term that originated in Japan, there called shinrin-yoku, and it means exactly as it sounds, to spend time in a forest atmosphere. Forest bathing is not exercising, strenuous hiking, or running. It’s simply the act of being in the forest, connecting with it through all of our senses, strengthening our bond with the earth.

Grounding is an act of further connecting with the earth, by literally connecting skin-to-ground, either with our hands or better yet, our bare feet. Personally, it is not so easy to go wandering the forest in my bare feet, but I ditch the shoes and socks quickly in my own yard, connecting to the soil and grass to support my body and my nervous system. And I often place my bare hands on the knobbly trunks of trees, caress the soft moss, and dig my fingers into the soft soil.

I often think that it’s for these reasons that I struggle so much during the winter. There is no barefoot connection to the earth for months upon months. There is forest bathing for short periods, but not the hours that I truly crave. Winter has its purpose, has its beauty, but it creates a small disconnection, a barrier, to experiencing nature in a way that nourishes me fully. 

I hope for all of you, though you may not have the ease of access that I know I am privileged to have, that you find those pieces of nature to connect to, somehow, someway. It might just be the beginning of one of the best relationships of your life.

♡ Whitney

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