Chapter 1: The Nature of Healing

Is there such a thing as a "good" wound? You can decide for yourself.

Recently, I stumbled upon an unsettling mark on my body, right beneath my breast. Instantly, a chilling thought crossed my mind—cancer. What else could this alarming lesion signify?

Each day, I find solace in nature, particularly during my walks in the forest. It's a simple yet profound experience: I enter the woods in any emotional state and emerge rejuvenated after half an hour.

In the initial week following my discovery, I was drawn to both the forest and medical appointments—mammograms and ultrasounds. After five days of anxiety, the results came back negative, allowing me to breathe a sigh of relief. Or so I believed.

During those five days, my spirit gravitated towards the divine, seeking peace and acceptance. In contrast, my body tensed up, instinctively shielding the affected area. I repeatedly reassured myself that it was okay; we didn't have answers yet. But deep down, my spirit was already yearning for connection with something greater.

The towering cedars and maples offered their support. I whispered to my body that we are part of this world, and even in death, transformation would not sever our bond. Even when the sun eventually consumes our planet, I would still exist—shifting from stardust to stardust.

Was it the experiences of my life that equipped me to communicate these thoughts to myself? To guide my spirit into the embrace of the forest? How could something as uncomplicated as nature provide such profound comfort?

Reflecting back, I realize I’ve experienced relatively little trauma in my life. Yet, the healing influences of the forest, ocean, and garden seem to suffice. But I wonder, am I remembering correctly?

Did I not have a connection to the divine long before I faced adversity? Were the bluebells not electrifying me from the very beginning? Did my wound serve as a catalyst for growth, as someone once suggested?

My upbringing was filled with love. My parents created an environment where I felt valued, where my voice mattered.

Where did my affinity for nature come from? Did I learn to cherish the birds and the bees, or were we innately designed to love? I believe it’s the latter.

At eight years old, I endured a significant trauma when a car skidded on slushy snow and struck me. I lay motionless, staring into the vast blue winter sky above.

The injury didn’t fulfill my brother's dark wish for me, and I often ponder whether my survival was a medical miracle or a result of my mother's spiritual strength. I lean towards the latter.

Experiencing "otherness" can be just as painful as physical wounds. My first taste of social exclusion came in first grade, where I felt different. Did that pain allow light to shine through the cracks?

In nature, I find acceptance. No creature has ever judged me for my social misunderstandings; instead, they are wary of the potential threat I pose as a human. Interestingly, a rabbit remained still as I approached the car this morning.

It has now been fourteen days since I discovered the lesion, and my body is fatigued. It has been releasing tension, gradually letting go of its grip on life while observing my readiness to surrender.

For both of us, survival takes different forms. The forest's light, the ocean's shimmer, and the garden's sounds are what she would miss when my time comes, which we both hope is far off.

Thank you, dear friend, for sharing your time with me as I reflect on the light that emerged, whether I was prepared or not, this month.

Expect miracles. Because they are possible.

Henry ♡

Here is another story that highlights our cherished forest.

Henry India grew up in West Germany and now resides in Seattle, Washington, sharing their life with a symphony of nature: lively hummingbirds, playful squirrels, and timid rabbits; chickadees, dark-eyed juncos adorned with white tail feathers; house finches and song sparrows, along with spotted towhees and their bossy cousin, the American robin. They are surrounded by jays with striking black crests, as well as plum, cherry, and apple trees. Among them stands an ancient pear tree and magnificent laurels, alongside ants, snails, patient little spiders, a few rats, and a family of raccoons. Henry identifies as a nonbinary writer, soul coach, ecotherapist, and Reiki master.

Chapter 2: Embracing the Wound

The first video, The Good Wound, delves into the concept of wounds as transformative experiences. It explores how pain can lead to profound growth and understanding.

The second video, The Wound | Wild At Heart Experience | John Eldredge, offers insights into the nature of our wounds and how they shape our spiritual journeys, encouraging viewers to find healing through connection with the divine.