True acknowledgment requires grappling with uncomfortable truths: that many of us benefit from stolen land, that Indigenous sovereignty is often still unrecognized, and that justice demands more than words. It should be a starting point, not an endpoint—an invitation to repair, to listen, and to actively support communities in their struggles for land, rights, and cultural survival.

1. Habitat Preference

   • Found in Ponderosa Pine forests, oak brush, and mixed conifer zones (6,000–10,000 ft).

2. Winter Survival Skills

   • They eat juniper berries, acorns, and pine seeds when snow covers the ground.

   • Their strong legs help them scratch through snow for food.

3. Roosting in Trees

   • They fly up to tall pines at dusk to avoid predators like coyotes and bobcats.

I have also spent a lot of time reflecting on the privilege of having such a positive relationship with nature- going back to the conversation we had on the trail about how little People of Color are represented in outdoor ads/spaces/etc. Growing up in the Deep South, I understand why People of Color have a strained relationship with the environment (would love to talk about this, but don’t have enough space to dive into here cause of word limit!). I feel it is our responsibility on a macro level to work towards diversifying outdoors spaces and making them more inclusive- we cannot expect out clients to heal this relationship themselves when they are not the ones that severed it. The same way we do not expect people to have trust in the health care system or voting system in our country when it has been used as a weapon against them for so long. On a micro level I believe it is our responsibility to make clients feel welcome and a part of every space, and the biophilic metaphors we made throughout the walk can really help someone to see themselves within…since our class I have actually shared some of the metaphors we spoke about with a friend who has expressed interest in reconnecting with nature and they were absolutely amazed at the parallels that can be drawn and wants to go out and do our own walk!

Phil's anecdote about humans being lazy communicators really stuck with me. Our group did a great job at communicating through the woods, but I find myself avoiding some conversations in the front-country. I would love to explore how experiential therapy can be used to help heal relationships through communication skills, perhaps for couples, group therapy, or places of work.

Our nature walk also got me thinking about how dominant narratives (in the US) about nature center on dominion and separation. Nature is often viewed as something to conquer or a place to escape into, rather than something to exist alongside in harmony and integrate with. Although I do think there is value to challenge within nature (as mentioned in class) or using nature as a getaway, I also believe that it's important to think about how we can integrate it into our everyday lives and societies.

Icicles hanging from a stone on the north face of a ridge in springtime is rare and beautiful, that delicate moment of transition. Does the icicle sense the coming warmth? Does it know that soon it's frozen state will be no more?

When a client schedules a first session, are they attuned to some sense of warmth? Is that what therapy is: the warmth that helps people melt and grow?

Similarly, I trust the timing of the Common Mullein seeds. For the farmer, waiting 80 years for germination is unacceptable. But not for the forest. In the forest, 80 years is its own wisdom. It seems the Common Mullein seeds have the patience to wait for the right time, for the right circumstances. For a far future world that might look quite different form this one. A world in which the circumstances for growth and expression might be more favorable. Perhaps waiting will allow them to avoid the looming disaster. When they can seed the earth as part of what comes after.

I worry that clients can feel rushed in their process. To adhere to the strict developmental time tables of our agricultural society. Can I be a forest therapist and trust the innate sense of timing in each client, no matter how gradual and slow?

And I wonder about those icicles. Might there be a Common Mullein seed just beneath them? Might the melting of the icicle provide the nourishing moisture that some Common Mullein seed has been waiting for 80 years for the proper conditions to germinate?

I'm always so interested in the unique conditions each client needs for their Life Force to begin to stir towards some new expression of growth.

Upon returning home, my roommate's friend from California arrived to stay with us for a week. He's 35 years old. It seems his life has been waiting those three decades for the seeds of his heart to germinate and sprout. He's partied a lot. Become an attorney. Made money. Saved money. Struggled with addiction and depression.

I don't know why he felt he could talk so openly with me on Saturday afternoon. Perhaps he felt the forest?

He discussed an awakening he's experiencing.

His heart is becoming soft and tender to the suffering he sees all around. It was never apparent to him before, but now it is. He said the love in his heart is becoming strong and warm and some new quality of life is beginning to stir, but he doesn't know what it is or what it will be. He said it's enticing, but also frightening because it's calling him into new values, but he doesn't yet know what those are. Although he does know that this feeling seems to have something to do with a newfound call to become a father. To nurture and grow these new values so that he can pass them on to his progeny—to some unknown future world.

I asked, "From where are you feeling this warmth?"

"From my heart."

"What is it like, this moment of springtime you feel in your heart?"

"It feels like a seed has been waiting within me for a long time. And now it's time to germinate and grow."

Note: I masked aspects of this person's identity out of respect for their privacy.

As we walked through the forest, what stood out to me the most was how grounding being in nature can be. When we were hiking up hills and finding footholds in the snow, your mind truly centers on the world around you and putting one foot in front of the other. I was absorbed by the sounds of the birds, the chill in the air, the sunshine on my face, the ground below my feet. I enjoyed the sensation of constantly moving and feeling like we had a collective destination and purpose that we were working towards.

However, I also felt the value in the moments where we paused and considered different aspects of nature and their clinical metaphors. Though it felt nice to have my mind consumed by something for a short bit, the reflections that came from creating metaphors sparked valuable reflections in my mind. There were so many comparisons between humans and nature and I began to see humans not as something distinct from nature, but as just another part of it, as something that also adapts, grows, and heals. We saw trees that had been scarred by barbed wire and had continued to grow; we saw trees that protect themselves against fires by dropping their lower branches; we saw trees that had been bent, curved, and disfigured, yet still stood strong.

I felt proud that I was a living thing sharing the natural world with other species. I felt inspired by the resiliency of the flora and fauna of the forest. I felt encouraged by the ability of living things to adapt, adjust, and heal in response to stressors or hardship.

In the same way that the forest inspired me that day, I think that many clients would benefit from this same perspective. I think that this perspective would be very beneficial for clients who are healing from trauma or for clients who are struggling with depression and a lack of motivation. For clients who are working through trauma, I think that viewing their struggles and healing process as similar to that of nature would be very therapeutic. Drawing comparisons and creating metaphors that relate the client's experience to nature can make them feel less alone, change their perspective on what they are going through, and/or provide an opportunity for them to discuss something that they had been hesitant to before. Furthermore, using this kind of intervention with clients struggling with depression or depressive thoughts could help them to feel more connected to nature, and to realize that they are actually a part of it. It sounds silly, but feeling one with the trees, the deer, the birds, and the moss, and seeing how they also adapt, grow, and heal through hardship can give a person the purpose and motivation they need to keep going.

I believe something that was most impactful was the use of poetry to understand nature and the way it reflects in the human psyche and our intricate relationships with one another. I believe this type of imagery could aid someone in a breakthrough towards acceptance and building resilience. Perhaps even self-actualization.

As intricate and hi-tech as our human technologies may appear to us, they are an apish imitation of the elegance of nature. Without a blueprint, copyright, or startup funding needed, nature innovates constantly. Nature adapts to the needs of the moment without resentment or fear. Furthermore, while our physical environment is changing and the conditions are harsher to many beings, the natural world still finds a way to survive. Consider the erosion path or the bent trees, as examples. In these examples, nature is not only a metaphor for how we as people can learn about ourselves and our world, but a guide for how to live in harmony with it.

To this end, I worry about underlying psychosocial reasons for removing brush from the bottoms of ponderosa pine trees to limit wildfire spread. Is this action, although well-intentioned, furthering the belief that people know better than nature? Are we enabling a complex of human superiority towards the natural world? Are we staying in convenient denial about the larger systems we’re playing into which harm this and other lands?

In the context of fighting wildfires, it may sound radical to ask these questions – I believe it is. In posing these questions, I don’t suggest that removing brush is the incorrect response necessarily. There may be good ecological reason for it, knowing all that we do know about the rhythms of the natural world. However, if we’re aiming to empower our clients, and we are presenting nature to them as a metaphor for their own lives, what might this suggest to them?

A force which believes itself to be superior to you and has harmed you by acting on this belief of superiority is now trying to do correct its mistakes by continuing to enact a sense of superiority on you.

How is this at all client-centered? Or strengths based? It isn’t.

Perhaps a wildfire is exactly what the land needs. This capacity to clear debris may be much needed for this land. Similarly, it may be just as much needed for a client to grieve the passing of a loved one, a harmful relationship, or the closing of a life chapter. Perhaps the avoidance of wildfire is comparable to the avoidance of these moments when we could be well suited to “shed our skin”. I intend to hold these questions in mind as I work with clients, ultimately allowing nature to guide and empower us as we work together.

Zooming out, I was recognizing how the experiences of our clients are a part of a shared human experience, and how our role as a clinician is not distinct from that experience. Similar to how in Western culture humanity is perceived as separate from or even superior to nature, there is often this projected hierarchy in therapeutic relationships that is problematic. This echoes ideals I have learned about the process of decolonizing therapy, like removing power imbalances, valuing the collective, and the intrinsic human connection to nature. Throughout the experience and after, I felt the profound interconnectedness between myself and nature, as well as with the group, and how our purposes align as social workers aspiring to integrate nature into our practice.

Another thing I brought home with me was the power of nature-based clinical metaphors and archetypes as a form of externalization. I was inspired by how many different deep internal reflections could emerge from observing the natural world around us that truly reflected parts of my internal world. Using nature as a mirror for our human experiences feels much less pathologizing, in that these experiences and feelings are a part of a universal, collective ecological cycle rather than individual.

Lastly, I included a picture of Leucocrinum montanum, commonly called sand lily, that I noticed and found personally significant during the nature walk. With snow still on the ground and us existing in this in-between of spring and winter, I was drawn to the plant because of its almost iridescent petals and delicacy, and because I only saw that one plant alone, surrounded by rocks. I later looked up more about it and learned that it blooms rapidly, from an underground tuberous root structure that is not seen during the rest of the year, and is typically found in dry sandy or rocky terrain. For me, this reflected an awakening or recovery after a long period without visible progress or development. It also represents the ability to bloom and thrive in harsh conditions, mirroring personal growth and well-being emerging amidst hard circumstances and environments.

Your insight into poetry and nature reminded me of the romantic movement as a humanistic feeling response to the mechanistic and empirical view of the world that emerged during the Enlightenment and Industrial Revolution in England:

We should not mind so small a flower 
BY EMILY DICKINSON

We should not mind so small a flower 
Except it quiet bring
Our little garden that we lost
Back to the Lawn again -

So spicy her Carnations nod -
So drunken, reel her Bees -
So silver, steal a hundred flutes
From out a hundred trees -

That who so sees this little flower
By faith, may clear behold
The Bobolinks around the throne
And Dandelions gold.