I Couldn’t Think Myself Calm: Nature is Vital for My Highly Sensitive Nervous System

My heart banged in unison with the broken record of “I can’t deal with this” that screeched at top speed through my brain. It had been a Murphy’s Law kind of day. Whatever straw it was that finally saw me go from tense to screaming inside, I knew it would be futile to sit in my office and try to settle myself. I shoved shoes on and pounded a little harder than strictly necessary down the sidewalk and over to my sit spot, that special place I go to daily to reconnect with the nature in my neighborhood.

As I neared my spot, I could feel the transformation. My breath deepened, the banging of my heart softened to a predictable hum, and the needle lifted off the record as my attention turned to what leaves had opened since yesterday. This, I knew, was why I had come here: to slow down, exhale, gently bring myself out of the catastrophizing and fretting and back into the present.

I was reminded in that moment of what I’ve long known: I can’t think myself out of strong feelings. I can’t settle my body by staying in the place (like my office) where it got activated. And I can’t move through my feelings when I feel alone with them, instead of feeling connected to the rest of nature as I experience my emotions.

My highly sensitive clients tell me similar stories of how studying the flowers in their front yard helped them breathe and release a nagging fear about what the future might bring, or how listening to birdsongs helped them get grounded in the present when their grief felt paralyzing. Slower thoughts, more acceptance of the present moment, less intensity to their feelings, a sense of being connected to the larger rhythms and seasons of life.

These are the kinds of experiences that drew me to becoming a certified forest therapy guide (CFTG). I knew that sensitive nervous systems would benefit from connecting more regularly with the more-than-human nature world.

I also know that we deep thinkers are prone to overcomplicating things. How do we connect with nature the “right” way and when do we do it and what if we can’t get to the woods and what if we just hate the thought of bugs and getting sticky in the summer and cold in the winter??? Or at least that’s the kind of thinking that comes up for me at times.

It’s always helped me in moments like this to have someone show me how to simplify things. I’ve gotten that on forest therapy walks I’ve participated in and through my CFTG training, and now I want to offer the same simplification to you.

My role isn’t to fix you or solve your problems. It’s to guide you back to what humans have long experienced: it feels good to slow down, observe what’s around us, and sense our place in the web of life. And as great as it may be to escape to a remote area for a week or more of communing with nature, that’s sadly not how most of our lives work. And that’s fine. We really only need a few breaths to shift out of our everyday consciousness and into deepen into relationship with the plants, animals, and landscapes that make up our daily surroundings.

In a conversation I recorded with Kate Lynch as part of her upcoming Selfworthy HSP Summit, I demonstrated some ways that we can tune into the natural world around us, even in the midst of our busy days in our urban and suburban settings. We talked about what she termed the “appreciation and longing” that people like us have for a powerful connection with the rest of nature. I’m honored to be part of this summit and to guide attendees through more experiences like this that can happen anywhere, in just a few moments. In addition, I’m guiding a virtual forest therapy walk where we’ll take 90 minutes to go deeper into connection with nature nearby.

If you’ve been curious about how I bring forest therapy principles into my mentoring work, the Selfworthy HSP Summit is a great way to get to know what I do for yourself.

As much as I can explain forest therapy to you, words never quite capture all of the subtle sensory, spiritual aspects of it for me. You need to live it, to feel the shift in your body and brain that happens when we intentionally connect with the rest of nature in the way that forest therapy invites us to do.

Once you’ve tried out forest therapy in the summit, you might decide you want more of this in your life. That’s how I feel, and it’s what so many people tell me after I guide them through a forest therapy invitation: I want to feel this way more often. And there’s nothing holding you or me or anyone back from putting this into practice for ourselves…except that it can be hard to do on our own. The best intentions aren’t always enough.

I want to help fill in the missing piece that I wish I would have had years ago: a community where I could go to reengage in forest therapy practices. I’ve named it The Understory, and it’s taking shape this summer as a space where you can join me and other kindred spirits for a monthly walk, seasonal gatherings, and access to supportive resources in between.

And that’s all. No weekly assignments, no deadlines to fall behind on, no expectation that you accomplish anything in between gatherings. And no pressure to build relationships with anyone, either. Just a quiet space to have the experience of forest therapy and the option to use guided audios, journal prompts, and other tools if that feels helpful to you.

The permissive, spacious feel of forest therapy is woven into the fiber of The Understory. You’ll gently ease out of isolation, expectations (your own and those of the world), and the pressures of everyday life.

You’ll be supported in leaning into the slow, organic rhythms of time on nature’s scale. That might seem counterculture, but only because we’ve become so disconnected from nature’s pace. Taking myself off autopilot is hard, but I feel more like my real self when I do. I need forest therapy’s reminders to be countercultural in this way when I fall back into old habits.

If you’re all too familiar with feeling overstimulated and overwhelmed and you’d like to see if forest therapy offers you a new perspective, too, I hope you’ll join me at the Selfworthy HSP Summit to try it out for yourself. In the meantime, I’ll be getting back to my sit spot, wind tying my curls in knots, and unplugging from the mental noise in the best way I know how.