The soul of the forest

Few days ago I was hiking a beautiful trail in Tennessee. I could not stop marveling at how green everything was. The forest floor was a riot of every shade of green my eyes could comprehend. Ferns were unraveling, moss was extra fuzzy, and so many wildflowers were dotting the landscape. It felt like pure magic to witness. I was so awestruck by the forest floor that it took me almost half the hike to look up towards the tree tops. I was shocked to see nearly all the branches were still bare. Only small shoots of green were present, nothing like the eruption of green happening on the ground.

It was this beautiful reminder of the seasonal fluctuations of nature and life. That there will be times for growth and abundance and also times of rest and scarcity. Neither are inherently wrong and often they require each other to fully become.

For any plant, one resource that is necessary for rapid growth is sunlight. In a mature forest like the one I was wandering through, the forest floor only gets full access to the sun for a very brief window. When the temperatures rise enough to melt the frozen ground, the trees, still leafless from their shedding last autumn, and the fluctuating spring weather of rain, sun, rain, the perfect conditions take shape.

This ever brief time, the forest floor, that soon will be shaded by the treetop canopies, is bathed in glorious sunlight while having access to all the water it needs. It seemed as though every plant got the memo this year. They were taking full advantage of the opportunity. I am no botanist, although some days I dream of becoming one, but it fascinates me how mutually connected the plants of the forest are. How despite being wildly different, trees, fungi, moss, flowers, and ferns are, they communicate and respect each other in beautiful ways.

The forest floor understands that the most challenging part of growth is often the beginning, the pushing of the shoots through the soil and forming those first few leaves to absorb the sunlight. That this difficult time of growth needs to occur in this window where they are fully resourced. If the plants waited and bloomed at the same time as the leaves on the trees above, they may not have the strength to reach their full potential. A plant in full sun will absolutely grow differently than a plant in full or even partial shade.

It felt like walking through this forest, so green below and so bare above, was a direct metaphor to my current life. As we get older and sometimes wiser, as life continues to move forward, our ability to remain fully resourced shifts and changes. Before there were jobs, bills, relationships, goals, expectations, families, and all the other things that feel like a drain on our resources at times, our forest floor has full access to the sun. It is as if our soul is the forest floor, and the greenness of the landscape is a temperature check for the health of our soul itself.

Before the responsibilities of life start to grow into tall trees that shade us from the sun, our lives are lived in full sunlight. We have full access to the resources we need, allowing for unchecked growth, for better and worse. Of course, sometimes the forests grow thick too quickly and shade the forest floor before it has fully formed, before all of its beautiful shoots have broken the surface of the soil and bloomed into what they are meant to be. (This may be my new favorite visual for how trauma can stunt the growth and connection to the soul.)

But when allowed, the forest floor can erupt into the chaos of green during this time of full sunlight. This allows the fauna of the ground to continue to thrive as the trees of life begin to grow. The jobs, relationships and other adult responsibilities become our trees in life. There will be seasons of life where these trees will be the only thing the sun reaches. The lush forest floor may have a season of stagnant growth due to the minimal sunlight that will reach it. But because the roots of those very trees still meet the forest floor, the soul does not die. It is simply in a state of support rather than growth.

The more green the forest floor is, the better the soil becomes at retaining water and other minerals needed to help sustain the growth of the trees. It is by this effort of the forest floor when it had its time in the sun that the trees now get their time in the spotlight. This idea, of every part of the forest has a different season of growth, directly translates to our lives.

We each will have seasons in our lives where we are resourced enough to work on the soul level, the forest floor. Other times, all our resources will be collected by other priorities in our lives, the trees, whatever they may be. It is important to remember, if you feel like you cant grow at the forest floor during the same time as growing the canopies of your trees, you are not deficient. You simply do not have access to the resources you need to do it all at once.

I have been living life in an incredibly rare way lately. It is not often that we get to strip all our trees bare and allow the forest floor full access to the sun as adults. I have been gifted with a season like no other. My soul feels fully resourced for the first time in many many years. I feel like the forest floor that is bursting with color like the one on my hike. I am taking full advantage of this window of time where the sun is all mine. I do not have to live in the shade of any responsibility or tree right now.

I know this is a season. I know the leaves on my trees will return. And I know I will be happy when they do. But most importantly, I know this is a time I must take full advantage of. I must soak up every bit of sunlight I can, let a riot of green explode from my soul, so when the shade returns, the lushness of my forest floor can support the roots of every single one of my trees.