Brimful of Ash at the Waterside
MARY DEES shares her personal reflections on nature as self-care for psychotherapists in THE TRANSACTIONAL ANALYST AUTUMN 2019
When I am among the trees, especially the willows and the honey locust, equally the beech, the oaks and the pines, they give off such hints of gladness. I would almost say that they save me, and daily. - Mary Oliver, ‘When I am Among the Trees’
THERE IS ONE tree in Shining Cliff Woods that stands out in my affections, on one particular autumn morning it is covered in green spiky seed cases and the ground around is scattered with an abundance of gleaming sweet chestnuts. It was probably planted 200 years ago and then coppiced for long straight poles or charcoal until the demand for such things diminished and its five trunks were left to grow tall and fat; feasting through its leaves off the sunlight and carbon dioxide and through its roots sucking water from the land. Held, nurtured and protected by the ancient soil with its network of organisms linking it together with the neighbouring trees into an ecosystem almost too complex to comprehend. And now mature and strong, it grows slowly and uses its solar magic trick to create this almost obscene amount of chestnuts – throwing out its biomass and DNA, feeding the forest and its visitors.
I joined the Natural Reflections Supervision Group run by Hayley Marshall in 2016 to increase my knowledge of outdoor therapy and allow me to take time out of my busy life. Spending a whole weekend every season in Shining Cliff Ancient Woods, with a group of counsellors and psychotherapists, has become a vital part of my self-care and self-connection. I learnt very quickly when I started out as a psychotherapist that self-care and self-connection isn’t a nice to have, it is the most important tool in my kitbag. Without it I can’t do my job. Without self-care and self-connection, I am like a fireman without a hose, a farrier without a fire. It is essential that we find ways of staying empathic and attuned to our clients, while keeping a strong connection with ourselves and our own experience. Sitting in the middle of that sweet chestnut tree, hidden from view and surrounded on all sides by large trunks, listening to the sounds of the forest, soaking up the green light and with my face resting on the gnarly, rough trunk – I breathe in its earthy scent. In that moment I connect fully to myself – Adult and present. And I can cut through the fog, the haze, the worry, the background physical tension and relax into myself. This wonderful tree facilitates that connection; it seems to hold me physically and emotionally, allowing me to think clearly. It operates in a different timeframe, seeming to be still and patient yet so alive and magical and cyclical. Spring’s bright green hope, summer’s abundance of life, autumn’s colourful slowdown and winter with its fresh stillness. The seasons all offer themselves to me as I search for myself and my place in the order of things.
As a child, I lived in a large house with nine people: Mum, Dad, Gran, Auntie, two brothers and two sisters. It was loud, hectic, messy, often fun, sometimes confusing, occasionally scary. There was a strong sense of being part of something and of belonging, but it was hard to have a clear identity that was my own rather than the one thrust upon me – twin, tomboy, strong, brave, happy, lazy, clumsy and mischievous. Being outside was when I could be myself. I used to hide – I would sit in a bush with a hollow centre – bathing in the solitude and delighting in a fantasy world. We had a large sycamore tree in our garden right next to the garage. I would climb the tree and sit on the roof. Hidden from sight by the branches, I would watch my family – with a sense of happiness and peace.
It is easy for me to think of myself alone in nature, but my happiest times were shared with others. I birdwatched with my auntie (who was a botanist), spotting the flash of kingfishers and once a tiny, shy firecrest perched in a pine tree. I also walked in the woods with my Dad, stick in hand, filled with joy, freedom and sense of being ok. The awkwardness I often felt as a child of not being quite right, not knowing my place, saying the wrong things and uncomfortable in my skin disappeared when striding out into the forest with my Dad and siblings. This felt like my domain – the trees and birds knew and accepted me and I them.
From being a young baby I was out in nature riding on my Dad’s back in a baby carrier/rucksack, while my twin brother rode with my Mum. And I think nature was a crucial part of my early script protocol, an implicit part of both my stimulation and soothing (Berne’ 1972; Marshall, 2016). During the symbolic/verbal stages of childhood it became part of my Parent egostate – nurturing, holding and accepting. Nature provided me with something dynamic, potent and alive – the colours, the sounds, the textures, the smells – such a richness of landscape and creatures. Something that provided an unconditional and undemanding remedy to my unmet relational needs.
A few weeks ago I had a big decision to make, one that shook the core of my earliest protocols and life script. I was experiencing physical stress and cognitive rumination and it was starting to impact on my ability to be present and attuned with my clients. I went to the woods for the Natural Reflections summer group and our facilitator Hayley Marshall gave us a solo exercise: to go out into the woods and find our ‘niche’ and spend some time experiencing it and ourselves. We were out on our own for about an hour. I found an idyllic spot surrounded by holly and hazel trees. A fast running stream gushed through it with a large ash tree on the opposite bank and dead ash trunk dissecting the space and forming a bridge over the river. Here in my niche, I sat on the stream bank and whittled a stick while listening to the sound of the stream, the wind in the leaves and birds in the canopy. My mind was at peace and my body through my senses was focused on touch and hearing. I then used the stick to mix some mud and water together into a nice soggy mush. I spent the next 20 minutes spreading it on to the dead ash trunk with my hands. The odd thought of ‘what am I doing’ or ‘should I make this more artistic’ fleeted into my mind but on the whole I was content to be in a very somatically focused non-verbal state. I could happily have stayed in my womb-like niche for hours.
‘On returning home . . . I realised that my previous physical and cognitive anxiety had gone and that some very deep healing had taken place – healing that used my senses of touch and hearing and that involved my returning to the embrace of nature.’
It was interesting how bland and lifeless indoors felt in the week following the group and how I longed to take my indoors clients out and delighted in my outdoor client sessions.
There has been a lot of research from across the world into the positive impacts of experiencing nature from the forest bathing of the Japanese to ecological psychology movement. In their biophilia hypothesis, Wilson and Kellert (1993) claim that we – as human beings – have an innate love for the natural world, universally felt by all, and resulting at least in part from our genetic make-up and evolutionary history.
Research has shown that spending time in nature provides restorative benefits to physical and mental health, including: boosted immune system and increased anti-cancer cells, cognitive abilities including attention (Kaplan, 1993), memory, impulse inhibition, reduction in negative rumination (Bratman, et al, 2015) and improvement in emotional states/mood and stress reduction (Ulrich, 1991).
Being in nature isn’t all about calm and tranquility. It is also challenging and reminds us that we are part of something bigger. Recently I saw a field vole run across my path and in a flash a magpie swooped down and snatched it away. I felt a mix of horror, exhilaration, sadness and fascination. Provoking feelings of being alive in the face of life’s fragility and being part of something bigger.
Human beings are animals – intrinsically connected to and part of the natural world. Over time as we have developed ‘civilised’ and increasingly urbanised societies, we have become separate and alienated from our ecological roots. I am sure that part of human psychological distress is a disconnection from the natural world and our forgetting that we are part of it. Our need to feel connected to the natural environment is similar to our need to belong.
A lot has been written and researched about burnout and the need for self-care to ensure an effective and longterm career as a psychotherapist – and I think that we are actually very good at looking after ourselves. For example I have: 5 hours of supervision a month, 15 years (so far) of psychotherapy, 2 peer groups, my wonderful Natural Reflections Outdoor Supervision Group and I spend at least an hour everyday outdoors in nature. And like Mary Oliver, in her poem, the trees save me – and daily
In conclusion, walking out to be among the trees in the sunshine, rain or snow is as vital a part of my everyday life as a psychotherapist as any CPD, supervision or personal therapy. It is my way of making sure that I have put my oxygen mask on first before I help others to put theirs on.
I wonder what it would be like for you to spend an hour outdoors experiencing your own version of a brimful of ash at the waterside? Maybe even alongside an outdoor psychotherapist…
References
Berne, E. (1972). What do you say after you say hello. London: Corgi. Bollas, C. (1987). The Shadow of the Object – Psychoanalysis of the unknown thought. Free Association Books: London
Bratman, G N, Gregory, N, Hamilton, J P, Hahn, K S, Daily, G C, and Gross, J J (2015) Nature experience reduces rumination and subgenual prefrontal cortex activation PNAS 1510459112.
Cornell. W.F. (2008).Explorations in Transactional Analysis: The Meech Lake Papers. TA Press.
Hargaden, H., Sills, C. (2010). Transactional Analysis: A Relational Perspective. Routledge
Kaplan, S. (1993). The role of natural environment aesthetics in the restorative experience. Managing Urban and High-Use Recreation Settings, General Technical Report NC-163,Forest Service. P.H. Gobster, Ed.: 46–49. USDA.
St. Paul Kellert, S.R., Wilson, E.O. (1993).The Biophilia Hypothesis. Island Press. Washington DC.
Marshall, H. (2016). A Vital Protocol – Embodied-relational Depth in Nature-based Psychotherapy, in Jordan, M, Hinds, J (eds) Ecotherapy – Theory, Research and Practice. Palgrave: pp148-159.
Stern, D. N. (1991). The Interpersonal World of the Infant: A view from Psychoanalysis and Developmental Psychology. Basic Books: Ulrich, R.S., R. Simons, B., Losito, et al. (1991). Stress recovery during exposure to natural and urban environments. Environ. Psychol.11, pp201–230