Lucy Furniss: Wisdom of Nature
As I travel through Central Europe, living, cooking, eating and sleeping outdoors in our natural world, the lessons that I experience feel varied, precious and important to me and actually for all humanity.
The Black Forest, in Germany, feels dark and mysterious: the perfect place for the Brothers Grimm’s invention of fairy tales of evil and of course the triumph of good. The colours in the sky show black clouds and blue light and sunshine alongside each other. Light and dark so often move together. Both are vital for nature’s growth and yet I know how easy it is within myself to want to stay in the light and avoid the dark.
As I look down from a hill, the expanse of the dark forest before me feels overwhelming and scary. It stretches on for as far as I can see with no identifying differences and the blackness seems to suck me in. There is a quickening in my heart rate as I start my hike. The immensity and distance raise uncertainty and a little fear. Then I walk down a copse full of wildflowers of all colours, nodding their heads to me, welcoming me to their home. I sample the lush wild strawberries, raspberries and blueberries. The birds chatter around me, butterflies busy and the sun dapples the ground in front of me. Being with what is right here and now regulates my heart rate and brings a smile to my face. I realise that when I am fully in the moment, the bigger picture bringing fear and uncertainty seems less.
Grandmother tree stands huge and striking at the edge of the path, surveying and at the same time somehow humble. I wonder what wisdom she imparts as I stroke the gnarled knots and damp grainy bark. She is a small part of the large forest and yet how can I guess at her importance. She provides sanctuary for insects, birds and even the shade for me and yet also shares her resources with the other trees in the woods through the network of fungi. A community of nurture and support.
The death and destruction of a wooded area where a cyclone hit in 1999 leaves me feeling grief, the force of the weather having left nothing unturned. The intertangled roots and life support of trees is upended and discarded without discrimination. And yet everywhere I look, I see new green growth. I am amazed at how resilient nature can be: the beauty of the intricate roots, the resourcefulness of tender green shoots using the decay as nourishment. Nature may suffer but rises up again. I think of how myself and my clients can underestimate our abilities to regenerate, often wishing for things to go back to how they were before and finding it hard to allow and celebrate the new and different.
One of the philosophies of the Schwarzwald is to ‘Let nature be nature’. I see this at work on a walk to WildSee (Wild Lake). The path is steep and rough consisting of rocks, streams and roots. The wardens resist the temptation to make this path more palatable. Through this wilderness, I am again forced to concentrate on just what is exactly in front of me. I reach out and touch the ancient stones, the damp moss and the wizened trees, thanking them for the use of their roots as stepping stones. I feel my connection and belonging within this world as if we are one. As I walk, I reflect on just how difficult it can be to accept myself as I am in the moment without seeking to change anything. It is hard to sit and do nothing and yet I know for myself that from this place wisdom and the wildness of me often comes. With this wildness, I can start to return to me in my raw state before life moulded me into conformity.
As I move on to the Alps, the energy of the mountains feels overbearing and intense. I dislike the barren, bare and rocky outcrops. The snowy tops feel threatening and risky. My heart feels heavy and fearful. I wish for green and forests. My curiosity in my response leads me to talk with the mountains. I experience the ancient wisdom, the precious crystals and rocks, the majesty and protection they offer and their vastness. My sense shifts from fear to feeling enveloped and embraced by them. I am surprised how easy it is when looking at the world from a different perspective that I can change how I feel so quickly and easily.
The mountains also raise the difficulty for me of uncertainty and the unknown. I feel trepidation at taking the cable car up to the glacier. Will it be safe, cold and possible? Rather than excitement, anxiety reigns. When I arrive, childlike wonder and playfulness return as I bathe my feet in the glacial lake, climb over rocks to the edge and walk on the glacier. When I can see and calculate the risk and manage my environment, then I can afford to let go a little more.
Nature does not have this luxury. It is prone to interruptions from the weather, human and animal interference, environmental changes and seasonal cycles to name a few. At no point does it complain or try to take control and manage a situation. Contraction and expansion is a natural cycle that flows as required. Nature quietly evolves and spontaneously adapts to what is present.
I take a long deep breath, enjoying the scent of pine and filling my lungs with the pure mountain air. I look at the peaks that surround me, the trees that stretch skywards, remember the unseen animals, insects and nature spirits and offer my thanks. There are many lessons for us to learn from the wisdom of nature. I realise that nature survives and thrives perfectly well by living and responding in the present and I wonder how my world and the wider world would look if we did the same. How can I aspire to this in the choices I make?
Lucy Furniss
I’m a Gestalt Psychotherapist and Wild Therapist based in Bournemouth, UK and am currently exploring how wild therapy, spirituality and Gestalt sit alongside each other.
Email: lucy_furniss@hotmail.com
