A Sensory Nature Hike: Compassion for Ourselves
- Pamela Ruiter -Feenstra
- Nov 25
- 5 min read
Recently, I attended an all-day women's retreat at the EarthWell Retreat Center in Michigan. Located in a remote rural area, the retreat center resonates with a rare sense of calm that comes from being immersed in nature. When you walk up to the center, you're greeted with plants and trees, wind chimes, stone-lined wooden railings in the front, and curved tree branch designs on the back deck. I felt my shoulders relax as I took a deep appreciative breath of the crisp autumn air.
Scenes from the EarthWell Retreat Center. Photos: Pamela Ruiter-Feenstra
We gathered with tea and introductions. Miriam and Emily led a soothing body scan, awakening meditation, gentle yoga stretches, an immersive sound bath, and thoughtful reflections on darkness. Then Chef Kori presented a tasty miso soup filled with love and ingredients freshly harvested from her farm. She cut huge chunks of root and autumn vegetables and let their textures soften and flavors co-mingle for hours. We carved bite-sized pieces from the vegetables in the mushroomy-vegetable broth. With each spoonful, we savored a different flavor: three types of seaweed and kelp, potatoes, fried tofu strands, and kabocha squash with patches of peel left on to infuse the broth with vitamins and more intense flavors. After lunch, I often feel a bit groggy. After this meal, I felt loved, cared for, and energized.
In the afternoon, we went on a silent sensory nature hike over the rolling hills, winding among old-growth trees, and past a small rippling lake. During various legs of the hike, we focused on one sense at a time: touch, smell, hearing, sight, and then those four senses together.
I felt my body let go of the stress and trauma I had been carrying around like a backpack of rocks. I dropped ruminations and worry in favor of being present in the moment. Of being, not doing. Of appreciating my body's ability to feel the soft ground underfoot, the bark of a grandmother oak tree, the coolness of the wind whispering against my face; of hearing the delicious crunch of the fallen autumn leaves, the lilting gurgle of the lake water, the birds calling to one another; of seeing the purplish outline of bushes and vines that had recently dropped their leaves, branches with red berries still hanging on, two ginger cats who suddenly appeared in front of me to get a drink in the small tributary and stretch their front limbs on the riverside tree; of smelling the scents of wild bergamot, pine needles, and the sweetness of freshly fallen leaves.
For the first time in a long time, I felt my body prepare to rest, to make a nest in these darker days, recover from the dramas and traumas of the year: the suffering and the celebrations, the hard work and accomplishments, the deep and constant care of others. Each of the dramas, traumas, suffering, celebrations, work, and care are stored in our bodies. None of those items magically disappear. But what I realized is that just as my work is always right in front of me, so is my opportunity to take care of myself. They aren't mutually exclusive. In fact, I know that I'm more creative and better at finding solutions in my work when I commune with nature, practice self-care, and allow myself to rest.
The care and calm we can receive from nature becomes a form of empathy and compassion for ourselves. Of acknowledging the backpack of stones we carry, and of removing those stones, one by one. Of peacefully engaging all of our senses to ground ourselves and rise above the fray. Of focusing on our breath, our higher purpose and self-care. Of letting the suffering and trauma begin to dissipate from our bodies like steam from a tea kettle. Of paying attention to what our bodies and minds need, of nurturing ourselves the way we've longed to be taken care of.
The amount of empathy and compassion we share with ourselves increases the amount of empathy and compassion we can share with others. So as the days grow shorter and the darkness deepens, hunker down and embrace the darkness. Give yourself permission to rest, to send gratitude to your body for supporting you, and to care for yourself as you deserve.
FAQS
1. Why is nature so restorative?
Amidst this plugged-in age and divisive time, it's easy to become over-stimulated, to feel disconnected, and lose a sense of who we are. Nature brings us back to tree roots that help us feel grounded, birdsongs that lighten our moods, water that refreshes and cleanses, colors that brighten our day, and textures that help us to pause and observe. To breathe in the fresh air. To slow down. To reflect on the interdependence of all living beings. Nature engages all of our senses and calms them, instills a sense of wellness and energy, helps us to rest better, and makes us feel alive again.
2. Why is it difficult for some of us to practice self care?
Capitalism values growth and productivity. This mindset can generate pressure to work constantly, keep pushing ourselves, and remain perpetually exhausted and dissatisfied. It can feel countercultural to rest, to take a day off, to restore ourselves in nature. Most women are conditioned to care for everyone else, leaving little time or energy for self-care. Yet, wellbeing and creative solutions flow best in a life balance that includes rest, recreation, engagement with nature, and time to reflect. Nature herself teaches us about life balance.
3. How can darkness be comforting?
Often, darkness is pitched as something negative and light as something positive. It's true that sunlight is important for all of us. Still, too much sun can burn us, hurt our eyes, and damage our skin. Keeping the lights on all night is used as a form of torture in certain prisons and countries. In contrast, darkness can offer a sense of relief and peace at the end of the day. It can be a space to reflect, to calm our systems, to find intimacy with our deepest feelings, and to enter into refreshing and nourishing rest. Our first natural state in the womb was in darkness–protective, nurturing darkness.
4. Can empathy and compassion be directed to ourselves?
Absolutely. Directing empathy and compassion toward ourselves is an essential step in self care. We don't need to wait for permission to take care of ourselves. Self care is a necessary ingredient for us to remain healthy, live our fullest lives, discern our purpose, and be able to extend genuine empathy and compassion to others.
In next week’s blog, Dr. Pamela Ruiter-Feenstra unveils 36 life-enhancing themes she’ll teach in the Compose for Change: Healing Arts course. Our blog drops on Tuesdays. The Compose for Change: Healing Arts course will drop in January.
Comments