The Pleasures of Nature Journaling

​Every day I walk out into the world to be dazzled, then to be reflective.--Mary Oliver

​I sit on my patio, on a perfect June day, wondering how to explain what nature journaling is and why I encourage you to try it.
 
I am not in a wilderness, not on a mountain top, not by a rushing river.  I can easily hear the four-lane highway a half-mile away, and I see the rooftops of my neighbors’ houses and sheds.  I sit on a comfy patio chair, with my iPhone playing some gentle music, while I tap-tap-tap the keys of my laptop.

Yet Nature is all around me.  The soft breeze dances with the branches of the dwarf apple trees.  The barn swallows jibber-jabber as they fly to and from the multiple nests under the eaves of our house.  A large shadow crosses the lawn, followed by a raspy croak as a raven speeds over my yard on some business known only to her.  A little white-crowned sparrow descends into the bird bath, sending up fountains of water droplets as he flutters and splashes, followed by such serious preening and grooming on the trellis.

All I have to do is pay attention.  No binoculars, no field guides, just the sense organs I was born with:  eyes, ears, nose, tongue, skin.  I like to bring a journal because I like to write (more about that later), but it’s not necessary.  Nature journaling starts with “being”, not “doing,” with awareness, curiosity, and a willingness to be still for a short period.

There’s lots of research available these days about how being in Nature slows us down, helps us connect with our bodies and the energy of Nature all around us, which is larger than our immediate personal dramas—what Eckhart Tolle calls, “the little me.”  That’s not to say that our dramas are without significance, but who can remember the drama they were involved in on this date 5 years ago? Or maybe even 5 days ago?

People have been writing about the benefits of Nature ever since we began to feel separate from it.  Now there’s even something called “forest bathing,” a term coined in Japan in the 1980s.  It’s actually covered by insurance there!   It is reported that “People on nature walks also tend to engage in “less rumination, or negative self-referential overthinking, which has been correlated with depression.”  And in the fields of neuroscience and psychology, these benefits are being quantified.  They’re measuring stress hormones and brain waves—actual physiological responses in the body—that show how being in Nature affects us.  We are more calm, less anxious, more creative, and we can solve problems better.   Even a 25-minute walk makes a measurable difference. 

Why?

​Because all the demands and distractions of modern life, especially our computers and smart phones, put a real burden on our brain.  Our brains were designed to sip incoming data through a straw—instead, we are trying to drink from a firehose. 

​​Being in Nature (at a sit spot, on a spirit walk, or sitting on your patio) supports us.  It’s where we came from.   Our primitive brains evolved out there to collect data about our surroundings, for our survival. ​​

And then our mammalian brain developed as a result of the need to connect with our mothers and others in our tribe (relationship, emotions, empathy).  Finally, our “thinking” minds came along, with our awareness of past/future, our memories, making meaning through stories. Some of these stories support us, some don’t (many are just “negative self-referential overthinking”).  But they all generate a kind of energy.   And a lot of the energy created by our minds is stored in the body.  Often we’re not even aware of our bodies these days—it’s like our big head just rides around on this body that can be very inconvenient.  How often do you spend hours bent over your phone or computer and don’t even realize you have to go to the bathroom?

​So why journal in Nature?

​Many of us write in journals.  And if you’re like me, sometimes the entries become just another version of the same story.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that—it always helps “the little me” to put the pen to the page and spill out whatever is on my mind.  But I am so much more than “the little me.”

​Nature journaling helps me connect with the joy of being 100% my authentic self.  I do it for the sheer joy of it.  Sitting still, opening my senses, paying attention, I can practice beginner’s mind.  The act of writing pulls my body further into the experience—my hand is moving.  Writing the words causes me to pay more attention to detail, making my experience a full event.  It starts as sensory awareness in my body.  I move from being lost in worry about tomorrow’s dramas into an immediate sense of aliveness in this place, this moment, with simple observation and plain words.  Tom Brown, Jr., says, “A person without a past has never seen a tree, a mud puddle, or a blade of grass.  A person without a future is free of worries and fears and open to whatever may cross his/her path.”  Beginner’s mind.

​So, find a “sit spot” close by (maybe even out your window?).  Take your journal and favorite pen/pencil.  One other thing—your Inner Critic is not allowed to come with you.  If you feel her presence (for me, it’s tight shoulders and shallow breath), take a moment to picture that part of you in great detail. Imagine walking her back to the house or car, then kindly asking her to sit this one out.  Mentally close the door and come back to your spot.

​Get comfortable.  And just breathe deeply.  Your body will remember how to do this if you’ve forgotten.  You can start by inhaling for a count of 3, then exhaling for a count of 6.  Do this for several rounds.  Then let go.  Close your eyes if you want to.  Then see what you notice first.  A smell?  A sound?  On which side of your face do you feel the sun, or a breeze?  Keep noticing, just noticing.  When it feels right, pick up your pen and start writing.  Just describe what you are seeing, smelling, hearing.

You don’t have to write in complete sentences.  You don’t have to use proper spelling or grammar.  You can write and draw on the same page.  Don’t know the name of a bird you’re hearing or plant you’re seeing?  Doesn’t matter--there is no better authority/expert than You.  You are the expert about your experience in this moment, and only You can decide what to write about it.  Describe the bird or plant with simple words or whatever juicy adjectives come to mind.  Don’t stop, just keep noticing and writing.  Don’t edit or scratch out.   If you feel stuck, write “I feel stuck” and then try to notice something (a fly buzzing or the shadow of a leaf moving on your page).​ 

For the first few sessions, just notice what your body is sensing.  And then, when this feels more comfortable, you can start being curious about the one who is noticing.  After all, we are also participants, not just spectators.  “Our listening to the bird’s song is the other half of the bird singing it.”

​In nature journaling, we slow down and become aware of our surroundings using our bodies as sensing devices.  Then we follow that awareness to our emotions, noticing how we feel them in our bodies, and then we can notice the stories that follow.  Notice whatever memories, hopes, fears, and dreams arise, whatever sense of wonder or questions come up and continue writing, being aware of how the physical feelings, emotions, and stories are connected.  You are now noticing how your inner and outer landscapes are connected.  You don’t have a particular outcome or product in mind.  Just keep your hand moving.  Write until you feel “done”.

​In this alerted, awakened state, our stories rise from the unconscious to the conscious.  And here is where we can heal.  The past is past, but it may be influencing us in ways we’re not aware of.  

​What if we could see a past event with fresh eyes, like the person with no past seeing a blade of grass for the first time?  What if we allowed for the possibility that things were not what they seemed back then?  Maybe the story would lose its energy and not trigger us.  What if that energy was now available to us for other purposes?  Like a tree sheds leaves that once had a purpose but don’t now—the leaves drop and their nutrients are recycled into new fresh leaves the following season.

​One of my favorite images these days comes from Parker Palmer’s “A Hidden Wholeness.”  He writes that our soul is like a wild animal in the forest.  If you want to see a wild animal, you don’t go crashing and thrashing about in the woods.  You sit down quietly against a tree--listening, watching, and waiting for the animal to reveal itself when it feels safe.

​Nature journaling can provide that safe setting for the soul—or authentic self, or whatever name you give it—to appear.  If you’d like a companion to help you get started with your practice, give me a call.

Donna

Good Books for Inspiration

 Sit Spot and the Art of Inner Tracking, R. Michael Trotta
 
Writing Down the Bones:  Freeing the Writer Within and
Wild Mind:  Living the Writer’s Life, Natalie Goldberg
 
The Wild Within:  Adventures in Nature and Animal Teachings, and
Tracking and the Art of Seeing:  How to Read Animal Tracks and Signs, Paul Rezendes
 
Tom Brown’s Field Guide:  Nature Observation and Tracking
 
Writing Wild:  Forming a Creative Partnership with Nature, Tina Welling
 
A Trail Through Leaves:  The Journal as a Path to Place, Little Things in a Big Country:  An Artist & Her Dog on the Rock Mountain Front, and A Life in Hand:  Creating the Illuminated Journal, all by Hannah Hinchman
 
Zen Seeing, Zen Drawing:  Meditation in Action, and The Zen of Seeing:  Seeing/Drawing as Meditation, Frederick Franck
 
Holdfast:  At Home in the Natural World, Kathleen Dean Moore

Donna Bunten © 2017