Rituals and containers
Small white fungi grow from brown decaying fern fronds. Green fronds surround the fungi.
The season is slowly starting to turn. Here in Portland, there’s a coolness in the morning air, and at night. The light is shifting - days are becoming noticeably shorter, and a golden evening glow traces leaves and trees.
We’re also entering a season rich with ritual and tradition - the High Holy Days, Mawlid, Diwali, Halloween, Samhain, Día de Muertos - these are just a few! I have long been drawn to ritual, and one of the things I love most about Forest Therapy is its flexible but strong structure, the ritual of it. There’s a flow we step into: moving from greetings and introductions, to our first grounding and settling practice, to moving slowly into and through and with the forest.
Many of us turn to ritual practices and frameworks when we’re trying to make sense of the world around us, and our own lives. Through prayer, quiet contemplation, spellwork, pulling tarot cards, walks in the woods, lighting candles in a certain order on a certain day - whatever it may be, we’re often looking for insight, understanding, and even a relationship with the ineffable. Perhaps we seek a moment of life-changing, life-sustaining awe. Or we’re in pain, afraid, and feeling a deep need for community and family. We’re looking for .. something. Some kind of care and connection. Perhaps we’re putting our life’s precious time and energy toward creating more mutuality, more reciprocity, more.. sharing.
I know it’s at least in part the Capricorn and Virgo in me, but I love a good structure! The best containers can be a space in which we deeply explore our own inner life, drives, needs, desires, and the relationships we are always creating with the world around us. This is structure and ritual at its best. At their worst, traditions (and the beliefs that underlie them) perpetuate hurt and harm; they can drive disconnection, and shut down possibility. When we find or create rituals and practices that are actually nourishing and supportive, we’re reminded of who we are, and of our place in the world. I offer Forest Therapy as one small way to facilitate that reminder: that each of us is deserving of love, and the sense that we matter - that we are cared for.
Recently, a Forest Therapy participant shared that they’ve been in the midst of a really difficult time. They’re doing all they can to support themselves, and it hasn’t been easy. We sit together on the forest floor, and I guide them to bring their attention to each sense - inviting the thinking (often ruminating) mind to settle, for just a little while.
After, with tears in their eyes, and a quiet voice - they spoke to the power of simply sitting on and touching the ground. For that bit of time, they felt held by the earth below them, and strongly, lovingly supported. They noticed the vibrancy of the green living plants, and the sweet smells surrounding us. Later, we explored relationships and community within the forest. Taking the time to look deeply, they saw and felt that the beings there, large and small - tree, plant, spider - lived within a web of trust and mutual care.
As we carry forward ancient traditions and rituals, updating them when needed, and even creating new ones, we are stepping into the stream of life - connecting with ways of being sometimes stretching back thousands of years. Rituals can remind us of what it means to be human. They can hold us in a strong and supportive container - a structure that allows creativity and life itself to flourish within.
As we step into fall in the Northern Hemisphere, as we watch leaves change, plant skeletons emerge, and animals (all of us) prepare for winter, may you feel held in community, family, and in any rituals or traditions that offer loving support. May you remember that this earth is here always - below and around us - and is available to touch and breathe with, every single day, in every season.
