Welcome to my substack: Treefaring
From Fear to Fascination: My Journey Into The Forest
When I was a child, forests scared me. Actually, it wasn’t the forests themselves, but what they held. Witches that ate children. Bears that ate children. Wolves that ate grandmas, then tried to eat children. Teddy bears having a picnic, but what was in the basket? I assumed children. And the most terrifying of all. Mr Tumnus. My overactive imagination transformed C.S. Lewis’ lovable but flawed faun into a demon who haunted my nightmares who, you guessed it, wanted to eat me. Forests were full of danger.
It’s not surprising that these fairytales and nursery rhymes made me scared of forests. That’s exactly why they were written. To teach children of the dangers of wandering far from home. The only thing in the deep, dark forest are big, bad wolves.
Stay home. Stay safe.
Even as a teenager, this fear was fed by movies like The Blair Witch Project and pretty much every single slasher movie where kids my age went into forests and didn’t come out again. And there were the very real, very sad news reports of women that went into forests and didn’t come out again, or came out changed forever. This just galvanised my view that forests weren’t safe places. Especially for women. Especially for women on their own.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always loved the outdoors and enjoyed spending time in nature , but I sought out open spaces. Beaches. Moors. Deserts. Places where monsters, real and imaginary had nowhere to hide. Or if I had to venture into a forest, I’d sure as hell not do it alone. And once I moved to Australia, which is home to some of the oldest and prettiest rainforests, which in turn are home to some of the world’s deadliest snakes, I developed a quicker step, charging through the trees, not lingering long enough to see a tail slither away…or appreciate the beauty and peace that surrounded me.
So how has this all changed? How have forests changed from my biggest fear to my safe space? Well, like all good fairytales, it started with something sad. In my case, it wasn’t a bereavement or an evil spell, although when it started it felt like both. No, my story starts with an illness. An illness that descended like a fog. Out of nowhere. Difficult to see (my specialists are still trying to pinpoint exactly what it is). But impossible to power through. It slowed my step and limited my endurance. Meaning if I wanted fresh air and exercise, I would have to make do with my immediate surrounds.
Which, had I still been living on Sydney’s northern beaches would have been just fine. Beaches at my door. Clifftops a short, manageable walk away. But no. There is yet another fairytale element to my story. An inexplicable, implausible event. Something that is just too much of a coincidence. A little bit too much artistic license. Just before I got sick, we had left the beach behind and relocated to the Sunshine Coast Hinterland, to a house surrounded by trees, with no easy means of escape. I was living my biggest fear. I was lost in the forest.
I never did find my way out. We didn’t find an excuse to move back to Sydney. We didn’t find a house closer to a beach. Instead I walked in further, leaned into my fear.
It started with unenthusiastic forest walks, which turned into forest sits, thanks to my uncooperative legs. After these sits I would feel happier, more energised. I googled to find out why and discovered that what I was doing was a well-established form of therapy - shinrin-yoku or Forest Therapy. I was fascinated by the science of why the smells, sights and sounds of a forest soothe our bodies and souls. Which in turn made me want to spend more time amongst the trees.
The I started painting trees. Making trees. Reading about trees. Writing about trees. I even began volunteering at a museum that documents a local town’s evolution from a centre for timber milling to a place that cherishes and preserves its surrounding forests.
I am now a treefaring person, I find solace and joy in venturing into the woods. I want to learn everything I can about trees - and there are so many fascinating things to learn, from science to mythology and everything in between.
In this blog/substack/whatever we call these online written musings these days, I will share my treecentric discoveries with you and write about all the ways the forest can help us, and all the ways we can help the forest.
I hope you’ll venture into the woods with me and become a treefarer too.