A Blessing
Taylor Bourassa-Wilson, RP, DTATI
Ottawa, ON
Taylor Bourassa-Wilson is a Registered Psychotherapist and art therapist with a private practice, Wellness Grove Therapy. She incorporates the environment into her practice through the use of natural materials, meditative practices that centre the earth, inviting the natural environment into sessions as a co-facilitator, and sharing the primordial knowledge the earth provides.
Nature’s Way is a regular column by Envisage writer Taylor Bourassa-Wilson, exploring eco-art therapy techniques to incorporate into therapeutic practices, and invites us to practice ways of interacting with, befriending, and enhancing our relationship with the earth.
Walking in the forest, I feel the thrum of the earth beneath me. Feet falling softly against the dirt below, muddying my brand-new shoes. I can’t get mad. This is just the way life works in the forest. After a rainfall, puddles crowd the trees and I can see new ecosystems being born inside of the shining mirrors. How long will they last? Will they remain after the puddles dry and sink further into the grass and mud, feeding the roots and fungi unseen?
The wind blows and rustles the leaves, shaking songs out of them that remind us they live and breathe just like us. I feel my hair twirl around my face: the one day I decide not to wear a hat, the wind shows me just how strong it can be. Unruly furls of matted hairs cling to my cheeks and I do not move them because they are a memory trace of my skin and bones interacting with the world around me.
I used to be afraid of the sun. Worried it would burn my skin and make it peel in painful ways. Now that the clouds cover the sky, I wish it would peek its head through and say hello.
The day drags on and I wish it would never end, because in this slowed pace I can feel what it means to be alive. I understand what it means to be human. My heart beat matches the honk of the geese resonating through the glade as my feet sink deeper into the sloshing mud and my body takes root where I stand. I cannot leave yet. If I do, I risk returning to the rush. The hum-drum monotony of grey buildings and white walls, an out-running of our own worst fears, hearts barely able to keep up and lungs crushed for wont of air. Here I can slow my mind and meld. I can meet the birds waking from their winter dreams, and see how business returns for the squirrels as their soft arms stretch and dangle from boughs of oaks. I can see the worms wiggling in the mud, ecstatic that rain has blessed them. And I can imagine what life would be like for me, for you... for us, if we would simply slow down and come face to face with the softest, smallest, most vulnerable of creatures and see their wisdom for the gift that it is.
I want to hear the stories and know the souls who live here. Seeing a crag in the body of the largest oak, I imagine myself crawling inside and taking up house here. Instead I walk on by and return to the busy streets and wailing grey buildings. As I exit the forest of dangling branches and braying insects, I feel a warmth dusting my brow and look above. The sun decided to make an entrance after all. Breathing deeply, lungs filling like bellows with the sweetest, most aromatic blue air: I can see clearly now.
Even in my home, the forest is just outside my window. I don’t even need to return to commune with nature. I know I can simply open the shutters and let the air in. How often do we enter the home of nature without thinking that maybe nature wants an invitation into our homes too?
Welcome Earth, welcome wind. Welcome sun. It’s a blessing to feel you on my skin.
