A Captivating Call to Wonder
A Captivating Call to Wonder
How walking in the forest fosters wellness
“In some native languages, the term for plants translates to ‘those who take care of us.” ~Robin Wall Kimmerer
Who taught you to see? Who taught you what to see? What not to see? What are you paying attention to? What is beautiful to you? ~J. Ruth Gendler
At this time of year, still dark at 6am, I roll myself out of bed, retreat to my study, light a candle and practice yoga, each movement slow, deliberate, delicious. As I swing my arms to the sky, fan them into warrior pose, I look outside to the leafless fig tree, savour its witnessing my pleasure in this predawn flight.
I first fell in love with trees while still living in Montreal. Twenty-two years old, I had just moved into my first solo apartment, a one room bachelor suite on Tupper Street two blocks from the Guy Metro, where a climb up a buzzing six-lane avenue landed me in the forest of Mount Royal, or what I had grown up calling The Mountain.
As a teenager, I spent most Saturdays walking in the mall with friends, our feet on shiny concrete, eyes trained to mannequins wearing the latest trends. Amidst the glare of so many lights were the mirrors, endless mirrors to size ourselves up and compare our pubescent shapes to an impossible, idealized other.
Luckily I found the forest, another place I could spend hours and hours that yielded a decidedly different kind of walking. Now amongst the trees, my search for perfection becomes a mesmerizing call to wonder. My whole body, every sense as well as my imagination, participates in the listening as I immerse in a vivid field of presences: chattering birds, meandering creeks, moss-shouldered boulders, log-clutching lichen and the dark sumptuous earth holding us all.
As I walk there is often laughter. I feel the touch of sky, wind, rain, light, air. I move and keep moving. Freedom is a walk in the forest. Expansive, all those lush hues of green plus the many shades of blue, brown, grey, red, yellow, and on and on.
One day, as I crouch beside a creek weaving its way through the dense foliage, I weep from the beauty. My glasses fog over the thrill of it all, the majesty of roots and trunks and branches, the ravine’s bounding waters, the rush of white waves where they cascaded over stones, dirt, leaves, plants, on the way to the sea. I follow it, my heart riding its flow. At the bluff, I stand and breathe deeply in, watch ducks float out on the surf. Bob along.
I am bobbing too, with gratitude for the ecstasy of being here.
Another day, as I stroll back from a hike to a different, favourite bluff, the southern sky blushes twilight. Startled by a cacophany of awkward throaty squawks, “WOW, WOW, WOW,” I exclaim, as the winged riot scatters and swaps spots, their angled beaks and curved necks shadowed in branches.
At dinner with some friends that weekend, after trading guesses on these mysterious evening flyers. A quick listen to my recording confirms they are red-breasted Mergansers. In Hul’q’umi’num’, the language of the Quw’utsun peoples, Xwaaqw’um means female merganser duck place. It’s also the name of the place where I was walking.
In the front garden of the house we currently rent, a matriarch Western red cedar reigns over the rest of the evergreen and deciduous plants. In the backyard the fig is accompanied by several usnea-garbed apple and pear trees as well as alder, fir and others natives and non-natives. The woman who presided over this land was a nature aficionado. Although it is overgrown in many ways, the shape and colour and dream of her love still lingers, especially in the spring when the bulbs appear. Although a light pink rhododendron has been blooming since December.
For all of the 25 years I have lived on this island, the forest and its trees and many beings have been chosen family. I go there with friends and often alone, although I am never alone in the company of such wise green beings.
Unlike nature, I will probably only ever be a novice gardener. Although, better to say “amateur” as it speaks to the exuberant love I feel for all these beings who have cared for me through their presence all this time, bathing me in their branchlight and rootdepth and leafholds.
For your reflection:
~What is your experience of walking in the forest?
~How do you feel when surrounded by so many shades of green?
~What other ways does nature nurture you?
~Where else do you feel a call to wonder?
I would love to hear your responses.
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