Learning from the Mothers
Sun beams shine out from behind tall tree trunks, surrounded by green ferns
In the forest, balance and mutuality are essential; trees and plants care for and protect each other. “Mother trees” send nutrients, water, and warnings to others, while dying community members share their nutrient stores even with other species.
Learning from the trees, seeing the intergenerational nurturing, I wonder about the ways we offer care to our young ones. How do we show up for them, help them stay safe and healthy, and let them know they’re loved? I’ve seen beautiful examples of adults standing as Mother Trees for the young people in their lives. I’ve also seen the deep pain of growing people who have been harmed by the adults around them. Amazingly, I’ve seen even young people who’ve been hurt give loving and just-right support to each other.
A home for the fairies, created from a small branch, sticks, cedar, and a small plant at the doorstep
Recently, I had the chance to take groups of teens into the forest. It was a time for them to step out of the stresses of their lives (work, family responsibilities, worries about housing stability, relationships, and more), and just be outside. I invited them to bring attention to their senses - what they heard around them; what they smelled; what they could touch and feel (the breeze blowing over their face and hands). Then, we felt our roots digging deep into the earth. Did they think this was weird? Probably! But they still went for it (with a few giggles here and there).
In Forest Therapy, people often find a sense of ease and peace. Some notice their chest and stomach unclenching, shoulders dropping, and the breath deepening, all on its own. We might feel wonder, sadness or grief, joy - just about any experiences and emotions can arise.
For these teens, it became all about playing in the forest. They smiled and laughed at their collective forest art creation. They climbed fallen trees, and made homes there - for themselves, and for the fairies. I don’t know exactly what they felt while we were there, and after; but their laughter, their smiles, and their tree homes have stayed with me, and, I hope, with them.
A forest home, created of trees, logs, and branches
We ended, as we always do, with snacks and tea. They devoured the snacks, and asked for many refills of the sweet, cool tea. I’d made it that morning, stirring in a good bit of maple syrup - because these young people need and deserve a little sweetness (as do we all, really). They deserve nourishment, sweetness, silliness, and joy - a little intergenerational care, thanks to inspiration and teaching, from the trees.
One of the teens’ case manager/mentors shared this after their Forest Therapy (some more sweetness):
I feel that it helped quiet down all of the loudness from stress and it felt as if we were in a different world where none of that existed. A great way to escape and the youth I brought with me felt the same.
