Kirsty Meese writes about the powerful impact of spending conscious time in nature and reconnecting with ourselves. This beautiful piece received Highly Commended in our 2024 Writing Competition
It was the beginning of May, and I could feel the rising energy of Beltane, full of promise and new beginnings, as my partner Robin and I set out on our favourite type of trip. To immerse in nature. We were to hire a canoe and paddle the lakes of Sweden, just the two of us.
This was our first significant canoe trip. I was conscious I would be stretching my comfort zone, and I buzzed with a wonderful mixture of excitement and nerves. I recognised these to be some of the key ingredients for a life-changing experience.
We rose early each morning, slowly - the sun and birdsong inviting us to wake. Swimming in the pure cool waters of the refreshing lake before breakfast would get our blood flowing. Then we’d warm ourselves on coffees, brewed on the campfire, before setting out to paddle the next stretch of the lake.
Some days the lake was calm and still. Broken only by the hypnotic lapping of our paddles, as we stroked at the milky reflections of clouds in the water. Those were dreamy days and we could take our time, pausing frequently to rest, and dipping our caps in the water to cool our heads.
Knowing that you love the earth changes you, activates you to defend and protect and celebrate. But when you feel that the earth loves you in return, that feeling transforms the relationship from a one-way street into a sacred bond
Robin Wall Kimmerer
A Surprise at Sunset
Other days the lake was almost tidal - the wind pushing against us fiercely, as we cut our way through the waves. A close synchronisation between Robin and I became essential in our paddling and together we would read the messages of the water, to gain efficiency from our efforts. It took a keen determination to press on. Pausing even briefly would swiftly render our endeavours undone. These were alert and gritty days that brought a different kind of satisfaction to those when the weather and lake were still.
Spent, from our hours on the water, we camped wild under the stars, held by the mulchy earth and cosy in our sleeping bags. The cool night-time air soothing our sun-kissed cheeks. We slept deeply, finding shelter amongst the families of Birch and Pine huddled tightly within the islands that greeted us along the lake. A welcome place to recharge, following a long day of paddling.
It was here, on one of those small green islands, watching the sun melt into the silvery lake, wrapped in one another’s tingling arms from the exertion of the day, that I felt a sense of the new life within me.
It was a subtle sense of knowing which arose from deep within this moment of complete connection.
Perhaps there was a message encoded in that sunset. Maybe, cradled in the quiet of the tangerine sky, I’d somehow sensed a shift in nuance. That first tiny vibration, which they say can begin from as early as four weeks. Not quite a heartbeat. More a gentle thrumming. Could I have somehow recognised this new rhythm within, as it first burst into being?
Several days later we arrived in Gothenburg - the city from which we’d fly back to Manchester and on to our home in Yorkshire.
The test confirmed what I’d intuited! It took a small age to interpret the words on the screen of the stick, which were of course in Swedish! In somewhat stark contrast to our days in the wilderness, we were now studying a digital screen on a pregnancy test in a busy train station, using a translator app on my phone, which sung back to me what I’d already known. We were having a baby!
“Nature is the silent witness to intuition and without nature, we cannot revive our intuition”
Malidoma Patrice Somé
The Arrival of Freya
Eight months later, on an icy day at Imbolc, Freya arrived gently, in a warm pool in our living room.
Those days on the lake and amongst the trees had set something in motion that would play out through our lives thereafter. It seems inevitable now that we would go on to birth and raise our daughter in a natural way.
Like herbs in an oil on a sunny windowsill, the essence of our time in nature (recognising we too are nature) becomes potently infused in our lives. It becomes interwoven through the way we birth and parent, through our children, how we engage with others, and in the unique service we bring to the world.
When Freya was a baby, I would walk most days, sometimes barefoot, with her snug to my chest in a sling, as I traversed the soft tracks that pick through our local Yorkshire countryside. Perhaps it was a combination of the fresh air, the visceral peace as I walk, and the rhythm of my heart and feet, which would contribute to Freya’s relaxed nature on those walks. She’d often snooze for a while, then peer out towards the changing sky and landscape, as we moved through it gently together.
“Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair”
Khalil Gibran
Spending Time Together Outside in Nature
I feel deep gratitude for the privilege of motherhood and to share in this time together outside. I’d often stop to gather herbs, or to taste the fruit of the season, singing the name of each in turn as I invited these into Freya’s line of vision.
Sometimes I would pause, for no other reason than to stay a while and be still. I’d bring her to my breast to feed. The world seemed to slow right down. I became attuned to the pace of the softly swaying plants and would drink in those glowing precious moments of pure presence. That kind of delicious presence where all margins disappear.
These were times of deep bonding for Freya and me. Though I didn’t know it then, these were times of deep healing for me.
A homecoming
I became more profoundly engaged in the natural world. I craved the realness of the wilderness. The more that I responded to that calling, I felt myself further invited in. I could lay myself bare here and reconnect with what truly matters. It was a kind of homecoming, back to myself.
I foraged herbs and made these into balms and teas. We built veg beds in the garden and began to grow our own food. I started swimming in a local lake at sunrise, or by the glow of the full moon.
Like a parched plant, finally watered, I felt myself rooting down and unfurling new leaves.
“This is really why I made my daughters learn to garden - so they would always have a mother to love them, long after I am gone”
Robin Wall Kimmerer
Nature as my Mother
In becoming a mother, I too gained a Mother, within this unfolding attunement with the natural world.
I was becoming more acutely aware of the powerful and nurturing energy of the earth. I felt myself held and mentored on this journey through motherhood.
Amongst the lessons I received, perhaps the most significant one, was of realignment. During my maternity leave, I finally stopped for long enough to hear it. My soul had been whispering to me for a while now, to slow down, so that I might.
“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished”
Lao Tzu
Letting Go
Within those still moments in nature, with Freya wrapped close to my heart, an initiation was taking place beneath the surface.
I began to let go of the ways of being and thinking I’d inherited along the way that were no longer serving me.
There were the masks and misplaced notions of success. All that busyness and rushing around I’d been doing. The short-lived joy of the shallow pacifiers I’d been chasing. The stories I told myself about myself, that were holding me back. Over time I released it all.
At first this felt like a huge open wound, as I let these fall away. I battled with my mental health as I processed what this meant and what remained of who I was. I recognise this to have been an essential part of the process, but those times were some of the toughest.
As with those challenging days on the lake in Sweden, I was reminded of a tenacity and resilience I had within, to keep on keeping on. I knew that in time an inner calmness would follow, and I would ultimately be strengthened by this experience.
I recognise now that something had to be uprooted to allow for something new to grow. My time in nature gave me the resources to navigate this and realign with what that would be.
"A woman in harmony with her spirit is like a river flowing. She goes where she will without pretense and arrives at her destination prepared to be herself"
Maya Angelou
A Life Rooted in Nature
I steadily came to know that true fulfilment would only be possible through a life deep-rooted in nature and sharing this understanding with others.
My parenting journey so far since has been shaped and coloured by this knowing.
Nature is therapeutic. Not only does she heal, but she also strengthens. A tonic for the soul, inspiring a firing of the imagination and all senses. If we’re present and open, there’s a creative awakening for all of us, richly condensed within each exquisite meeting with the more than human world.
I recognise this in our daughter as I observe her light up at a day in the woods with a confidence and unmatched joy. I see her whirling and running full pelt through wildflower meadows, with our Collie, Shadow, at her side. Or arranging leaves and petals into mandalas on the stump of an old Oak, paying tribute.
I notice her quietly listening to the rain, or a chorus of birdsong, as she rocks in the hammock next to mine, on a woodland camp. There’s a natural ease and groundedness. I love to hear her sing to the trees or her sweet berry-stained lips, thanking the bramble for her jammy treats.
I catch Freya’s wild hazel eyes, wide, as she studies a plant or fresh mushroom up-close with delight, purposefully taking in their earthy perfume. There’s a grace in the way she turns over a Beech nut in her tiny fingers at the foot of the mighty roots of a Grandmother tree.
When we pause to notice the playfulness and awe, that bright vitality and intoxicating curiosity of children’s conversations with nature, we’re renewed of it within ourselves. We’re witnessing the natural symbiosis and glowing reciprocity, in a relationship that’s as old as time.
Through conscious connections in nature, we restore our connection with something deep within ourselves, and from here, we reconnect with something greater still. Something instinctive and expansive is remembered. A kind of knowing and oneness that’s lit up.
“A walk in nature walks the soul back home”
Mary Davis
Nature is our Friend
I hope that within these joyful moments we spend together in nature, we’re also developing a blueprint for our children. That no matter the path in life they choose to take, they’ll always be able to return home to the knowing of this feeling and that nature will always be a familiar friend.
Kirsty lives with her partner, daughter, two step sons, their dog Shadow and eight happy hens, in a small rural village near Leeds. Her connection with nature has been strengthened through her journey into motherhood and vice versa. You can share in her experiences through her writing and photography @heartsandbramble
