There is a peace amongst the trees. They breathe in a rhythm with me; They breathe out, as I inhale, They breathe in my exhale. They were here before me, they'll see more of my kind after I'm gone, But they wrap themselves around me, Over me, sheltering me, Offering me a space to sit and rest, Or to stand tall and still, Like them, one among many, Something bigger than just myself. And they breathe out, So that I can breathe in. - Allegra Chapman
I took my children to their first festival over the bank holiday weekend. It was also their first experience of camping. I'd been nervous to take them before now, as I had no idea how my rather particular four-year-old would react to sleeping on the ground and using a toilet that didn’t flush, or whether my rambunctious two-year-old could be trusted around guy ropes and campfires. I didn't know if either of them would sleep And therefore whether I would sleep. I envisioned a lot of moaning about being cold and tired, and it all potentially just being a bit miserable.
They absolutely loved it. My four year-old said it was the best time of her life. The two-year-old - who didn't run off or do anything dangerous the whole time - still keeps asking to go back to the tent. They both slept brilliantly. So did I.
I've been finding myself wanting to go back too.
The cusp of summer
We're so close now to the summer solstice, and spring seems to be pulsating with the energy of its final days. The days are becoming hot, and there’s a sense of urgency in the air. Of things needing to happen now.
Spring growth is coming to fruition. We went for the year’s first strawberry picking outing this week. I made strawberry jam. The seeds we planted at the start of spring are beginning to flower. And I think that sense of urgency I feel is the limited time left to plant and cultivate what I want to grow within me.
Spring is the time for planning and laying groundwork for what you want to bring to life in summer. What you want to bring out into the light. But the season seems to have flown by in a flash. There have been so many unexpected obstacles to navigate that my direction hasn’t felt very purposeful. There hasn’t been the nurturing I’d like to give to my intentions.
So the final days of spring for me are about finding focus and preparing a more deliberate path for the light and energy of summer.
Into the trees
Maybe that’s why being in the fields and forests felt so powerful to me during our trip. That chance to reconnect with nature, to live in harmony with, and as part of, nature brings a calm and focus that is hard to find in modern life. I deliberately turned my phone on to Airplane Mode for the entire weekend, so that I could take photos but not scroll Instagram. So no one could contact me. So I could, briefly, drop out of society. And it did feel highly restorative.
Detoxing from all the busy interactions of the modern world really made clear how much all that being busy distracts from what we really want to get done. How all the noise blocks out the things we really want to hear. From our hearts, our souls.
Not only that, but being immersed in nature helps you to come back to your own natural rhythms. Sitting and sleeping on the earth is very grounding. You find yourself naturally waking once the sun is fully up - in a tent, you don’t have much choice, it gets warm fast - and going to sleep as night falls.
Being surrounded by trees and just breathing in and out is a powerful experience. When you take a moment to reflect that these ancient beings are what allow you your oxygen, that they’re breathing, reciprocally, in sync with you, you can’t help but feel humble and grateful.
Trees have a calming effect. Each one is unique, yet they blend together into an all-encompassing whole. The concept of “forest bathing” has become popular in recent years, and scientists have found that it has a number of positive effects on physical and mental health. It’s been dressed up as an ancient Japanese practice, but forest bathing was actually invented as a marketing tactic for Japanese woodland in the 1980s. Still works, though. Essentially, it means walking, or even just sitting, amongst trees does you a lot of good.
In folklore, however, the woods often symbolise danger. Our ancestors were wary of forests - there were wolves in there, and other wild animals that might eat us and our grandmothers. In her essay “Trees of Life, Trees of Death” [Burning Questions, 2022], Margaret Atwood suggests that one of the reasons humans have persisted in so aggressively cutting down forests might be that we’re afraid of them. And maybe a little more so because we know that, without them, we’ll die. From fairytales to found footage horror films, the concept of venturing into the woods carries a sense of risk. We might get lost. We might lose ourselves.
But Atwood also points out that literary forests aren’t always scary. In Shakespeare, for example, they’re often places of freedom, escape and transformation. After all, perhaps we have to lose a little of ourselves in order to find ourselves. In Shakespeare’s forests, people can be free to be who they are and love who they love, outside of the restrictions of society. Sounds appropriate for a festival.
And that’s the other thing I loved about my trip into the woods. Being amongst a community of people seeking something better. Seeking change. Looking for ways to care for each other and our planet. Looking to escape the modern world, at least for a while, and connect with one another. With themselves. A place where my kids could run free and explore a little bit of themselves. A place where I could be a little more free.
A place where I could let myself expand, and sit comfortably and calmly within my own skin for a while. A place where I could hear my soul.
No wonder it was so hard to come back.
Creative spark
For this edition’s opportunity to explore your creativity and express yourself, and what you can hear in your soul, in whatever way you choose, I’d like you to think about this question: