Saturday, September 26, 2020

Get Outside



I'm a tree-hugger. Yes, I said it and I will proudly own it. On our recent travels during my 8-week hiatus, we spent our last month in Northern California, in the small quaint town of Mendocino. We not only spent time with daily hikes along its coastal trails but had the honor to be in four different redwood groves. The first time we stopped in a grove was as we were driving along the highway toward Mendocino. I turned to my husband, Ed, and said..."Wow, it feels like we are driving past ancient wisdom." He replied, "Yes...do you want to stop?" As we pulled over and got out of the car, we walked not but 20 feet into the woods. We both looked up and around and then at each other, almost whispering, "It's SO quiet!" In that moment, we were both awestruck by the absence of noise.


And each subsequent trip into the redwoods, we noticed the same thing. We would often walk and sit in silence, just listening to the lack of sound. On one occasion, we heard the "whoosh, whoosh" of a bird's wings soaring above the tall trees. Our final visit was the day before we were to leave and just three days prior, a fire had broken out nearby. The smoke began to move toward the coast of Fort Bragg and Mendocino, so we decided to see what it was like in the redwood grove. 


As we descended deeper into the woods, the trees acted like a natural filter and the air was so much clearer than anywhere else we could have gone. Walking past these old-growth trees, I felt once again that I was in the presence of the elders, possessing a pearl of ancient wisdom and supreme resilience. I noticed throughout, how stumps from very large, old trees that had either been logged or burnt by fire, were encircled by younger trees, as though they stood like sentries around the former giant. It was like seeing the honor guard to what had died and in that, offering room, light, and compost for their growth. 


The experience was humbling and mystical. I walked along brushing my hands on the trees and ferns, silently saying "Thank you. Thank you for allowing me to be here amid your legacy. Thank you for showing strength and beauty, despite adversity and challenge."


Forest bathing is a thing in Japan, where spending silent time in the forests supports good mental, spiritual, and physical health. A recent National Geographic article by George Stone, TRAVEL  Executive Editor stated "the Norwegians have delivered with the concept of friluftsliv  [pronounced free-loofts-liv], which roughly translates to "open-air living" and is deeply ingrained in the country's heritage." Being outdoors in nature is important to Norwegians, the fifth happiest country in the world, with a 2019 study finding that just two hours of time outside is enough to make you happier.


At a time when so many people worldwide have been locked down and feeling locked in, getting outside becomes a more profound experience. Many of us had plans to travel far and wide yet the pandemic reeled us in closer to home. Exploring California wasn't the plan we had made back in February of 2020. I was truly needing a break and listened to what I needed to help revive my weary self. My inner voice kept saying, "get to the ocean" and we not only heard the call but explored it as much as we could.


Upon my return to teaching, one comment I've received several times is that I look relaxed and calm. This is true. I am relaxed and calm as my soul has been deeply fed by being outside for close to seven weeks. The power and rhythm of the ocean, the sand between my toes, witnessing many forms of ocean life and birds, forest bathing amidst giant ancient redwoods, and sitting/walking in silence was good medicine.


My thought for the week is simple. Leave your four walls and get outside, even if it's opening a door and walking out onto a lawn, or barefoot on a deck. Notice the trees and maybe truly see them for the first time. If you can get further afield, take the time to do so. I can attest, it will feed your soul, connect you to your ancestry, and leave you with moments of awe that will never be forgotten.


Now. Stop reading...get outside!

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