Finding our Selves (also, Petrichor)
These relationships, this reciprocity, this care and kinship…
it’s our birthright.
After years of working with people of all ages, in times of pain and distress, and in joy and happiness - I believe most (all?) humans have a deep need for connection. The particulars of this need can look different, but the desire for something other than utter isolation is nearly universal. Why then has loneliness reached epidemic levels? And what can we do about it?
When I talk with friends, the conversation often turns to how so many of us are feeling socially anxious, or disconnected. Many of us are struggling to reconnect with friends and family after years of significantly reduced social interactions. Yes, of course - the covid pandemic has deeply impacted us all, likely in ways we won’t really understand for decades to come. But also - even before the pandemic, how many of us used substances to manage social anxiety? How many of us fled to the bathroom during a crowded party, or found a quiet corner to chill with the host’s dog or cat?
And yet, and yet - we need and want connection. We want to be seen, to be understood - and to see, and understand others. In peer support spaces, I’ve seen little children, teens sunken into their hoodies, and adults with the weight of the world on their shoulders light up in a moment of mutual recognition and understanding. They may be talking about the worst experience in their life, but these moments offer something so essential, so necessary - even life-giving. These moments are profound, and knit together something frayed.
“...these moments offer something so essential, so necessary - even life-giving. These moments are profound, and knit together something frayed.”
I feel this same quality of knitting together during Forest Bathing. People spend ten quiet minutes with a tree, and walk away feeling heard, and held. Some have an entire conversation with their new friend, or the tree may teach them something important. (A Western RedCedar once shared with me trees’ naming methodology for themselves - a complex system that included their location, their relationships with other beings around them, and a unique characteristic or two of that particular tree. It was freaking magical.)
Some people hold hands with a branch, or wrap their arms around the trunk - feeling a touch that is kind, safe, and supportive (something that too many people don’t have regular access to).
When people experience Forest Bathing for the first time, they are sometimes nervous and unsure. They might feel some anxiety, some awkwardness. What will this be like, and - who are these strangers? Will I feel pressured to do something weird or uncomfortable? Who is that other person? How do I feel about them? How do they feel about me?
As we slow down, into our bodies and senses, remembering our place in the world - so often these questions and worries drop away. Suddenly, a particular leaf or petal, pinecone or beetle becomes fascinating. We spend minutes at a time staring at a patch of moss, or a softly waving branch. Birdsong feels like communication direct to the heart. Watching and listening become dialogue, and empathy deepens. We remember that we are of this world - that this world is us.
Our sweet selves need and are worthy of care and connection, no matter how awkward, anxious, hurting, or confused we are.
These relationships, this reciprocity, this care and kinship -
it’s our birthright.
Close up of water drops at the end of 2 conifer needles on a branch, surrounded by other needles. The background is blurred. The text overlaying the image states "Nature word - Petrichor! Petrichor is a ‘pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of dry, warm weather.’ Do you love it? Most humans do! Link to BBC article that talks about where this smell comes from, and why spring rain gets us taking big sniffs and saying, ‘Awwww - I love that smell!’”
