A reflection on ecotherapy and meditation in counselling

In this article, I have chosen not to dwell too much on what ecotherapy exactly is or its most well-known benefits, which have been widely covered elsewhere. Instead, I will look at some of the most unique features that make it stand out for me as an essential component of working with people therapeutically.

The path is yours; a living embodiment of the person-centred approach

When walking in nature, inevitably, there is the ever-present therapeutic metaphor of what path to take. Handing this over completely to the client is a great opportunity to embody the person-centred approach.

To enable this, it is first important to build sufficient safety and set clear boundaries. This involves covering all the practicalities of clothing, timings, environment and demarcating where the therapeutic outdoor space begins and where it ends.

With this established, there can be an opening up to the freedom in frequent choice points. There can be a moment of great empowerment to choose to go a particular route with somebody else and own the consequences of this decision; whether to explore a rough, overgrown cul-de-sac off to one side or slow to admire a sudden flower scent or bloom. Whether to keep to the established path or shortcut over a tempting desire line, and the impact of the dread-inducing "no entry: private property" sign.

Bringing insight and awareness into how we respond to these can help to challenge familiar patterns of thought and shed light on areas that feel stuck and ingrained.

One step, then another

While sitting and being still with emotions is an important part of therapy, taking things outside can introduce the prospect of moving through them.

There is an instinctive logic to this, which science is now catching up with. The steady left-right motion of walking alongside a scanning of the environment bears some similarities to the bilateral stimulation used in therapies such as EMDR. Research suggests this may support emotional processing and help reduce distress, which may partly explain why some people find it easier to process difficult experiences while walking.

There is also something that shifts with the simple act of walking alongside somebody rather than being face-to-face. A certain power dynamic of sitting opposite the therapist in their space gets balanced out, and conversation can flow more easily. Any type of healthy relationship for me has involved some time walking alongside each other, exploring the world together with our bodies engaged, alive and sensitive to the possibility of things.

The pursuit of wonder

When nature is actively invited into the therapeutic relationship, we are opening to something bigger than either of us. Awe is a common response, as well as the possibility of living metaphors and meaningful coincidences.

There is the famous example from Jung of a client struggling with intense rationalism who recounted a dream of a golden scarab beetle. At this very moment, a real scarab beetle tapped on the window of Jung’s consulting room. In an early example of bringing nature into therapy, Jung apparently caught the beetle and handed it to the patient, helping to break through their rational psychological defences and sparking a therapeutic breakthrough.

Actively stepping out into the natural world inevitably makes such encounters more likely. Dammed streams, fallen trees, and sudden cloudbursts can all occur at the most synchronous of moments. They can go on to serve as recurring motifs that weave their way into the conversation, building relational depth and forging a shared appreciation of the mysterious process of healing.

As we work with clients over time, seasonal changes can connect the work more with these steady, assuring changes from the hope of spring through into the full body thriving of summer, and then the retreat of autumn and the still subtle dormancy of winter.

Healing outdoors: part of an ancient process

Healing in this way is, of course, far from being a recent development. Practices like meditating in sacred groves, observing the solstices and engaging with the collective consciousness in nature through ritualistic drumming and chanting ceremonies were an integral part of early human history. It was how healing worked. To exclude this from the therapeutic process seems to shut us out from this lineage. To include it adds a rich ancestral connection.

This would not just have been the notoriously nature-oriented druids but also the ancient Roman philosophers who viewed wandering and sitting in gardens as essential to resetting the mind, curing mental fatigue, and escaping the stresses of the city. Further afield, the Buddha of course gained his enlightenment sitting under a sacred fig tree rather than a temperature-controlled room with a box of tissues nearby. I like to think, though, that during his trickier post-enlightenment teaching period, he probably would have appreciated such a space now and again!

Mindfulness, presence and counselling work

Being mindful is inevitably a part of working in this way with nature. When on longer meditation retreats myself, I am struck with how the pace slows and how I think less and notice more, especially when in nature. I am reminded of those special moments between therapist and client when there is a sudden deepening into a newfound awareness of familiar details, as if understood properly for the very first time.

I notice before a gate I have passed a thousand times a clearing of undergrowth amongst a clump of Buckthorn where an upturned oak trunk has been deliberately placed creating a makeshift chair.

I notice the lightly bruised stretch of grass beyond the gatepost that indicates the more established path ahead. The post itself marks the beginning of a decaying fence that meanders through a lace of ivy, wrecked oak saplings, and matted cleavers. The final fence rungs are twined loosely to the post, and at times, as the fence progresses, the ivy does the twining, at others, the pulling apart.

Beyond a wide splayed turkey oak, the boundary of the fence dissolves almost completely under the weight of an earthen bank as its rungs spool out over the path. Meanwhile, on the other side, an army of nettle subsides into a relieving patch of long grass with a peppering of buttercup, bugle and bitter dock.

Further beyond this, a handful of stubby field elm help to frame a sloping wild meadow with chest-high grasses and wildflowers. I then pan out further to take in the whole valley, revealing stretches of woodland and ancient hedgerows weaving between fields of cattle and sheep peacefully grazing in the afternoon sun.

Taking therapy outdoors has this liberating effect. It is like stretching the container beyond the therapy room, out beyond the fence line and into the natural peace and freedom that abounds in these spaces when we have the chance to be still and really listen.

When therapy is working, it can be like learning to meditate with another person. Through developing increased present moment awareness, insights naturally emerge, and repressed emotions get to surface and settle. An awareness of MBCT, insight dialogue and focusing can provide a fleshed-out theoretical basis for this sense and serve the process of healing both inside and outside the room.