I didn’t grow up appreciating nature. It wasn’t really a Mormon thing. We worshiped in buildings, got married in bigger buildings, and only occasionally did we embrace the outdoors. When we did manage to go out to the forest, it was never to simply be, but instead to enforce the brainwashing that had taken place in the buildings. Boys camped with boys to learn how to be better boys. Girls camped with girls to learn how to be better girls. It wasn’t about the magic or majesty of the forest, the beauty and rawness of the trees, it was about further separation and control.

If I felt anything in nature, I attributed it to God. I didn’t really enjoy nature in those settings. I didn’t want to go out to study my scriptures, find a patch of grass only to pray, or sit by the stream and confess my supposed sins in hopes of feeling “the spirit” around the campfire that evening. I struggled to feel anything in nature, past admiring the surface beauty. And now I know why.

As a child, nature was separate from me. Most Americans, especially those in religion, can sympathize with this statement. Nature is there for human use, a gift from God to utilize as we please. Nature was dirty, unsafe, unpredictable, and a hassle. It required preparations and equipment. Nature was something I saw in picture books, but had little consequence in my life. I wasn’t connected to nature any more than I was connected to God. If I had realized they were one and the same long ago, perhaps my relationship with nature would be leaps and bounds ahead of where it is now.

Nature isn’t separate.

Now that I have reconciled the ridiculous “earth history” I learned from religion (you know, claiming Earth is only 6,000 years old and mankind is a distinctly separate, higher being meant to rule all), I have now come to a new understanding of Earth and my place in it. I view Earth and all life on it very differently now. I think more along the lines of Pocahontas, you know, everything having a “life/spirit/name” and being connected to each other, etc. I see the smallest caterpillar as equal to the graceful deer as equal to myself as equal to the great pine in my backyard. Life. No better, no worse, no different, all wonderful.

For me, this now means when I enter a forest, I don’t feel quite as separated. I seek out, and therefore I feel, the softest of energies, like the feeling of someone watching you. A strange presence, a comfort, easy to miss, but miraculous to recognize. A comforting stillness that soaks through my skin, infusing my soul. But why? Why do forests now suddenly evoke peace, when before they did so little? Is it only because I now don’t see myself as a separate (better) being? Is it only because I respect all life much more and can finally appreciate it?

I believe so. We don’t appreciate anything until we actually do. And something magical happens when we do. The thing we appreciate becomes even better, and we’re stunned we didn’t see it before. We look at it with new eyes, understand it with a new mind, and accept it with a new heart. I finally stopped searching past the trees for something greater. I could finally appreciate the wonder around me for what it was, and recognize that same wonder in myself. The trees didn’t suddenly change, I suddenly changed. I always enjoyed being in nature, but not the way I do now. Now I feel part of it, instead of apart from it. The trees aren’t like any friends I’ve ever had.

Nature accepts.

The trees accept me. They don’t wish I were smarter, skinnier, more accomplished. They certainly don’t care about my resume, what I’m currently working on, or my goals for the future. They don’t compare me to other humans (that I know of). And they don’t withhold their presence if they don’t deem me worthy. I am always worthy. I am always enough. And feeling enough, allows me to finally, just be. This is the only place in the world where I can simply be. I’m not Shelby, or a woman, or a writer, or an ex-mormon, or a student, or a teacher. I am simply a human.

This sheer simplicity of being a life, without all the pressures and expectations of being a specific life, is exactly why I seek out nature when I feel overwhelmed, not good enough, lost, or any other silly negative feeling that comes from being too wrapped up in my “identity.” I know there is always a place I can go to shed all my many skins, to put down my many masks, and simply focus on my breath.

Forests are my new temples. I seek them out when I need comfort or clarity. When I can’t flee anywhere else, I flee to them. When my thoughts are inescapable, I escape to them. And every time, without fail, they accept me with open arms. I inhale the pine and wet dirt, hear the leaves and needles blow in the wind, feel the ancient bark beneath my fingers, and take in hundreds of shades of green, letting the forest envelope me. I breathe in deeply, and release slowly. With each inhale I feel more accepted, with each release I feel more at peace.

Nature comforts.

I encourage you to get reacquainted with forests, or any patch of nature. It could be a neighborhood park, a field, or simply your backyard. Let nature welcome you just as you are. Give yourself even ten minutes where you can only be, because you can’t do anything else. Meditation isn’t necessary, breathing deeply is recommended, and mindfulness will come without much effort. Notice what you smell, hear, see. But most of all, notice how you feel.

In nature, it’s as though the world finally quiets and I can think. I listen closely not only to the forest, but to my own body. Notice your pains and struggles, your triumphs and treasures, everything you have now, and everything you were lucky to have at one time. New thoughts will come with these new feelings. Let them. Try to simply be open, and let the trees and grasses bring you back to balance.

My goal is to get a dose of nature a day, which means I’ll have to get a little creative with winter coming. I hope you come to appreciate nature the way I have. It may take time to recover this connection, or it may surprise you how quickly you find yourself obsessed with trees. Either way, be patient with yourself and remember that you aren’t “striving” for anything. The opposite. Nature accepts you as you are, welcomes you as you are. Give her a chance. Don’t be surprised if you find yourself comforted in her green bosom and never want to leave. Give nature a chance. I promise you won’t regret it.

How has your relationship with nature changed since leaving organized religion? How do you feel when you’re out in nature? Tips or advice to share with others? Leave a comment or head over to the forum to start a discussion!