By Nate Van Noord (RO Staff)
“In every walk in nature one receives far more than he seeks.” John Muir
My brother taught English in Japan in the late 1980s, when the country was booming economically. He walked to school every morning in awe of the beautifully landscaped streets and parks and centuries old architecture. But he also saw plenty of businessmen rushing to work early in the morning and napping on the subway late at night on their commute home. The general population was working longer and longer hours - usually indoors in sterile office environments.
Consequently, a movement called Shinrin-yoku started to encourage folks to immerse themselves in the forest as a way to improve their mental and physical health and find a renewed connection to themselves, others, and the natural world. As this movement spread around the globe in recent decades, it also became known as ‘forest therapy’ or ‘forest bathing’.
L to R: My sister, Janna, and Serena, and Autumn
A few months ago, I walked into Mountain Equipment Recyclers with a $5 coupon burning a hole in my pocket. I walked past the front counter and saw a brochure for Restoring Connections Forest Therapy. Serena Vogel, a retired school teacher and certified forest therapy guide, was advertising a 2-3 hour forest walk with the intention of connecting others with nature in a healing way.
Later that afternoon, I gave Serena a call and found she recently finished her 125 hours of training through the Association of Nature and Forest Therapy (ANFT). She first discovered forest therapy when she met ANFT’s founder, Amos Clifford, at a conference. Growing up, Serena had a troubled childhood and regularly escaped into nature to cope. Hearing Clifford’s vision of helping participants disconnect from the stress of life to uncover the joy and peace of the forest sounded very appealing to her.
It sounded appealing to me too. So we set up a time for a walk.
The next week, my sister and I met Serena at Cheyenne Mountain State Park on a Wednesday morning. Accompanying Serena was Autumn, one of Serena’s former middle school students, who 25 years later is now a massage therapist in Manitou Springs. We walked for a mile into the forest to a spot Serena already had scouted out.
My tree.
We put our bags down and Serena explained how this would work. She would give us a prompt, or invitation, to embrace the forest in some way. We would each wander a stones throw away with the freedom to sit, stand, lie down, walk around…whatever felt right. After 15-20 minutes we would reconvene, and share about it if we wanted to.
After a few invitations, our last prompt was to experience a tree nearby. Stare at it, feel it, smell it, listen to it. So I meandered off and lied down under a 40-foot Oak.
I watched its tops gently sway and listened to the faint rustling of the wind moving its highest branches. The pace of movement contrasted sharply to a bird who swooped into the Oak, perched on a branch, and a moment later, fluttered away.
I stood up and plucked a leaf. I rubbed its smooth surface in my hand and tried hard to smell it. I dropped the leaf and nestled my upright body into the tree. Like a bear, I scratched my back along the ridges of the bark. I took a deep breath, turned back around, and gripped a couple waist high branches. I shook the branches hard, hoping to release some pent up stress.
Sharing tea, with the leaves often foraged nearby, is a tradition after a Forest Therapy walk.
I peered around the tree to see if Serena, my sister, or Autumn were in sight. They were not. So I wrapped my arms all the way around the trunk of my tree. I held my guy for a few minutes - soaking in his strength, his age, his wisdom. As a single person, I don’t receive much physical touch. My tree was providing, even if for a few moments, a love language I sorely lacked.
A moment later, Serena gently gonged her Japanese bell and we strolled back. She had prepared tea and put out the homemade pumpkin bread she brought. We sat and debriefed and I felt a little weird sharing about the deep bond my tree and I had going on and that I straight up hugged him for a long time. But Serena nodded affirmingly like it was completely normal.
While my sister and Autumn shared, my mind wandered to a passage in the Old Testament about God’s people being stricken with poverty and despair and He raises them up to be Oaks of Righteousness - restoring places and people long devastated. Now, God had patiently watched as my tree grew from a small sapling to a flourishing staple of the forest - rooting itself deeply, providing shade for those below, and branches for the birds above. It had taken years, but my guy had fully matured and was nourishing all those around him - including me. I took a deep breathe, felt my body relax, and reveled in the bounty of the forest and all of Creation.
With Serena as my guide, my tree as my therapist, and God as my witness, I was ready to go home and take a long, deep nap.
Serena Vogel, MA, Certified Forest Therapy Guide, can be reached at natureheals622@gmail.com
