During the aftermath of heartbreaking or traumatic events, while my brain is still trying to heal itself, I often find myself in these slow-Mo moments of peace and serenity…with my houseplants. I notice myself taking extra special care, at snails speed, to bring water to each of the millions of them waiting for my attention. I go to a plant, ow ow ow heart broken ow, and I slowly touch its leaves, ow ow brain hurts heart hurts ow, and I very very gently pour the slightest stream of water into the soil, losing myself in the motions of picking away its dead leaves and tidying up its home. But I noticed that it doesn’t start/stop at houseplants alone. It’s nature.
So, hearts and minds aching and raw, my kids and I traveled over to a favourite wetland walk. I watched as they too began their own slo-Mo tranquility transition. Watched as the healing was taking place right in front of me. An enormous blue heron swooped down into the water near us. My three spirited children, who are self-proclaimed “incapable of being still”, as well as diagnosed as such, well…they sat still. My loud, nutty, bouncing off the walls trio who are self-proclaimed “MACHINE GUN LOUD” sat silently. For forty. Minutes. Watching. The heron stood so still in the water for so long that at times it was almost easy to forget that it was in fact real. Suddenly SNAP the bird shot it’s head into the water and reemerged with its trophy. We had helped with this success! We were silent, still, and calm alongside the action.
The healing, I think, takes place so efficiently within/alongside nature because…that’s where our hearts and bodies are meant to be. It’s often a very reciprocal relationship – I care for and give to my houseplants but they do that for me. They clean my air. They depend on me, but they will always return the favour. And on the larger scale, in nature and out of the house (if ones broken heart can handle the trek outside), the rewards are that much greater. We provide the heron with silence and stillness and it will provide us with a close encounter and a glimpse into its world. We benefit massively from just being out in the warm sun, the fresh air, surrounded by glorious oxygen-giving trees and calming water. And so when emerged in nature, our bodies and brains are able to slow down. To regulate. To remember our place in the world and to remember that life is beautiful and generous and best received when taken in slllllloooooooowwwwwwllllllllyyyyy. Thankfully, our ancient brains already know that, and so we often see how easily children (who are less ‘programmed’ by society than us) connect to nature and how quickly they transition into that deep and comforting relationship with the life all around them…and a peacefulness emerges so naturally within them. So if your heart is not where it should be, if it feels as though it will never mend, turn to the woods. Turn to the forest. Turn to the houseplants. Turn to our true home, where our broken hearts are always tended to: nature.
During the aftermath of heartbreaking or traumatic events, while my brain is still trying to heal itself, I often find myself in these slow-Mo moments of peace and serenity…with my houseplants. I notice myself taking extra special care, at snails speed, to bring water to each of the millions of them waiting for my attention. I go to a plant, ow ow ow heart broken ow, and I slowly touch its leaves, ow ow brain hurts heart hurts ow, and I very very gently pour the slightest stream of water into the soil, losing myself in the motions of picking away its dead leaves and tidying up its home. But I noticed that it doesn’t start/stop at houseplants alone. It’s nature.
Danielle Onward is an unschooling mom of 3 and shares her ideas with We Learn Naturally as well as her own Facebook Page Nature + Nurture: gentle parenting + nature play .