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Words for Wellbeing #2

It’s the second meeting of my new therapeutic writing group next Wednesday, 10th April at Space Runcorn.

Here’s what participants at the first meeting said when asked what they enjoyed:

“The company. Friendly people with a welcoming and non-judgemental environment. Great conversation and feedback.”
“Talking to lovely people, in a safe space. Being able to talk about what came up in an open and honest environment. Something different and enjoyable.”
Book here now for Wednesday 10th April at Space Runcorn

It’s a chance for you to carve out a dedicated time to experience the therapeutic benefits of self-expression, of putting pen to paper and pouring out those thoughts and feelings onto the page.

It’s a group for you to nurture your creativity and play with words. It’s about writing for yourself, freely and without rules. So no one will be checking your similes or your spelling. Journalling, poetry, stories… anything goes. You don’t need to already be a writer, know the finer rules of grammar or have perfect handwriting – though if you do, you’re also very welcome. You will be invited to share your writing and/or your thoughts – but there is no pressure to do so.

Sessions begin with time to get a brew and check in with each other, forming a supportive writing community for our evening together. Then there is dedicated time to write. Themes and prompts are provided, but you are also equally welcome to follow your own muse. We finish up with chance to reconnect with each other, share your writing if you want to or talk about how you found the process – again, only if you want to.

My route to organising these sessions as a counsellor comes via a degree in literature, a career in journalism, time as a teacher and a personal writing practice that includes journalling, short stories, poetry and terrible handwriting.

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Why walk and talk?

The idea of taking therapy out of the counselling room and into nature has really taken off in recent years. Covid pandemic lockdowns have been one driving force, as it was sometimes the only way for counsellors to keep seeing their clients in person. On the other hand, it could be seen as a practice with ancient roots in shamanistic healing work that sees humans as part of our natural environment. More than 2,000 therapists on one major counsellor directory now offer outdoor sessions as an option as well as or instead of counselling rooms or by internet or phone. So what might be the benefits?

Photograph of fallen trees covered in moss against a backdrop of a winter deciduous woodland in North Wales.

Nature’s effect on mental health and wellbeing

While research about the effects of being outdoors on the nitty gritty of counselling is still catching up, there’s a large – and growing – body of research about the benefits of time in nature on humans’ mental health and wellbeing.

They include calming of the nervous system, boosting thinking power and mood, raising self-esteem and fostering a nurturing sense of connection.

Quite how this is achieved is less certain but we do know that our evolution may play a part – affecting the kinds of places we feel safe and nourished in. Edward O Wilson put forward the biophilia hypothesis, which suggests humans have an innate tendency to seek connection with other forms of life and nature as a whole. Ecopsychology, which has been developing for several decades now, claims to ‘revision’ traditional psychology in a way that puts the human psyche back into intimate relationship with the wider world.

Further research shows how the combination of movement in the form of walking with being outdoors can also support therapeutic goals.

A wider picture

Much of the above information comes from my research towards my Masters degree (and I have references available for anyone who would like them!). But what really struck me as I was reading all the research papers and books were some of the terms that kept recurring:

Connectedness, interconnectedness, inter-relation, a sense of a natural bond, holistic, interdependence, belonging.

This is the stuff that leads me to want to practise my therapeutic work outdoors. I believe that modern life in my culture has artificially separated us from the rest of nature. That healing requires connection, that wholeness comes from being part of our wider worlds.

It’s hard to explain. It’s easier to experience. And having experienced it for myself at some tough times of life, I want to share it with others.

You can find out more on my counselling practice here.

Or at my Counselling Directory entry, where you can also book a free discovery call.

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Choosing a counsellor

Some stuff you might not know…

Two shiny red rosehips next to each other against dark green leaves.

Anyone can call themselves a counsellor

Titles such as ‘counsellor’ and ‘psychotherapist’ are not what is known as ‘protected titles’ in the UK. This sets them apart from the likes of medical doctors, physiotherapists, arts therapists, dieticians or podiatrists – these are all protected titles and it is illegal to call yourself one without undergoing appropriate training that allows you to join a professional register. Anyone can call themselves a counsellor or psychotherapist regardless of training or experience.

So what training could my counsellor have had?

There are routes that are generally recognised as providing enough training and experience for people to practise as counsellors. These usually involve a course at a minimum of a Level 4, but possibly up to level 7, that includes 100 hours of experience of providing counselling on a placement. It’s sometimes known as core practitioner training. Level 4 is equivalent to the first year of a university undergraduate, or bachelor’s, degree. Level 7 is Masters degree level. Level 2 and 3 courses, often available at local colleges, are usually done in preparation for this practitioner training, or by people who may use counselling skills as part of a different job such as support work.

How do I know if my counsellor has training?

It may be listed on their website or directory entry, otherwise you can ask. If you’re worried, you could ask to see the documentary evidence in the form of a certificate from their training provider. Some of the organisations they could belong to will require evidence of core practitioner training.

Isn’t there a professional organisation?

Yes and no. There are several organisations counsellors can choose to become members of. Membership of any is voluntary. There is no single official professional organisation overseeing practitioners. There is currently a lot of disagreement about the role these organisations play. Many of the membership organisations will require members to have undergone recognised training routes, abide by a code of ethics and have a certain level of supervision in place.

Why is this all so confusing?

There is a great deal of controversy and debate over the regulation of counselling and psychotherapy. Some believe that compulsory regulation would stifle innovation and distort the natural connection between two human beings, among other potential downsides. And some think that the whole thing is a bureaucratic money-making machine for the membership bodies. On the other hand, membership bodies do require members to have recognised training, adequate supervision and to adhere to an ethical code – and give clients somewhere to complain to if they believe they have experienced unethical or harmful practice.

What can I do?

You can check what training a counsellor has, whether they are a member of an organisation with an ethical code and whether they have insurance. It may say this on their profiles on directories, or you can ask. If they haven’t had the more generally recognised training, they should be willing to discuss their reasons for this with you and what makes them appropriately skilled and experienced. Some of the membership organisations are accredited by the Professional Standards Authority.

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Venue update

Hi folks, a quick update for you all. I now have availability for face-to-face sessions at Castle Park Arts Centre in Frodsham on Wednesday afternoons.

I have use of a room in the centre as well as being able to offer the option of going out into the park for all or part of a session if a client wants to.

It’s really great to have found somewhere where I can offer both these options – a nice cosy indoor space as well as access to a park that has some quiet seating areas or paths for ‘walk and talk’ therapy.

The centre has a cafe, art galleries and loos. There is ramp access to the centre, a lift and disabled loo. Check out their website for more info on facilities and accessibility.

Online sessions and walk and talk sessions at other venues are also available. Email me at janinecounsellor@gmail.com to ask about times and days.

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Counselling and forest bathing: An update

I woke to snow this morning. A bright day with moisture droplets sparkling on the lime trees opposite my house. A cold day with the thermometer down to 14C in my living room. And I have turned to my to-do list, as is appropriate for that January feeling of new beginnings, putting things into place while I wait for a hint of spring in the air. Today that meant a bit of light painting as I prepare to sell this house and then the search for a suitable room in which to meet therapy clients.

That’s the big news. I completed a Postgraduate Diploma in Psychotherapeutic Counselling at Staffordshire University and I’ve gone on to begin my Masters research with them. I primarily want to work with clients outdoors, bringing all the healing of nature into the work. But even I understand that torrential rain or gale-force winds may not be conducive to therapeutic conversations. So I’m looking for a room to hire for when we’d rather have a comfy seat and a roof.

I didn’t quite know what would happen to my outdoor work – as a forest school leader or as a forest bathing guide – when I began the counselling course. I knew something might have to give but tried to keep it all up to begin with. But I wasn’t really prepared for the overwhelming emotional toll of the course, of the depths of personal reflection and exploration involved. (I’ve since realised I’m probably a highly sensitive person, which explains why I felt that so strongly. See Elaine Aron’s website and books for more!) Forest school work naturally dried up and although I could have gone looking for new sources of work, I let it go. I miss working with children in the woods and I’d love to have the occasional opportunity to do so again. I don’t miss working within school bureaucracies or having a car full of musty tarps and firewood so much.

Forest bathing

My initial model of offering forest bathing sessions or my ‘Forest School for Grown-Ups’ sessions was difficult to manage. They are of necessity small group activities. But that means I often found myself as the dates approached worrying if I would have enough participants. I hated the couple of occasions when I had to let down those who had booked because there just wouldn’t be a big enough group to make it work. So for now I’ve switched this to a bespoke service people can commission me to provide. I can offer individual forest bathing, or tailored sessions for small groups – friends, families, social groups, businesses looking to help staff with self-care and nature’s route to creative thinking. More info here.

Counselling

And in my new role as a counsellor I am offering people the chance to take their therapy outside and benefit from all that nature can offer us. This is a fairly new practice for counsellors that is really starting to become more popular – but it’s also an ancient practice in which we recognise that healing comes only in connection with the bigger world we are part of. For anyone who knows about counselling modalities, I’m person-centred with a dash of integrative. The focus is on providing a nurturing space in which you are fully heard and fully accepted as you are, without judgment. There’s more about my practice and the facility to book an initial inquiry call at Counselling Directory.

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A Bit of Science

New research shows positive effects of spending time outdoors on the brain

Forest Bathing guide Janine feels the bark of a sycamore tree at Runcorn Hill.

A team in Germany have just published a new study that adds to the growing evidence for the health benefits of being outside. Researchers at the Max Planck Institute conducted MRI scans of the brains of six participants to see the effects of time outdoors.

They found a positive response in grey matter in the right dorsolateral-prefrontal cortex. That’s the part of the brain involved in planning and regulation of actions – where a reduction in grey matter is linked to many psychiatric disorders.

Simone Kuehn, who is head of the Lise Meitner Group for Environmental Neuroscience, said: “Our results show that our brain structure and mood improve when we spend time outdoors. This most likely also affects concentration, working memory, and the psyche as a whole. We are investigating this in an ongoing study.”

Anna Mascherek, a post-doctoral fellow at the Medical Center Hamburg-Eppendorf and co-author of the study, added: “These findings provide neuroscientific support for the treatment of mental disorders. Doctors could prescribe a walk in the fresh air as part of the therapy.”

The team now plans to go on to directly compare the effects of green environments versus urban spaces on the brain. Some of their previous research found that urban dwellers who live near to forests had better “structural integrity” in their amygdalas, suggesting they experienced less fear and anxiety.

You can find out more for yourself in a press release from the Max Planck Institute here.

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Forest Bathing by Stealth

Forest bathing is really a simple idea – slow down, use all your senses to take in the natural environment, sit a while. But sometimes the biggest barrier to doing those things is that we feel we’ll look, frankly, a bit weird. There are those of us who don’t give a monkey’s what other people think, and oh how I aspire to be like that. But many of us can’t quite shake off that lurking self-consciousness. There is strength in numbers so joining a group event can help, but that’s not an option at the moment. So how can you get in some quality forest bathing time without people staring? By using stealth tactics to hide in plain sight…

1. Viewpoints: We expect people to stop to admire a big view. Head for high points, places where there might be a bench, a rocky outcrop, a ledge to sit on. In my local area, I’m thinking the benches at the top of Runcorn Hill or the viewpoint on Frodsham Hill, the rocky bits at Stenhills, the bird hides at Wigg Island. Take the chance to take in the expansive view, but while you’re there look close up at what’s around you. On the rocks at Stenhills today I found a luxuriant patch of moss dotted with sparkling water droplets, the in-your-face yellow of gorse flowers and the rustling dry leaves of a young oak tree.

2. Photography: A phone camera will do. Once it looks like you’re taking a picture, people expect you to stop and take time to compose the perfect shot. The trick is not to spend all your time viewing nature’s beauty through the lens. Use it to distract other people while you take things in more directly – the colours, shapes and textures you’re surrounded by. You could go a step further and take a sketch pad – the ultimate excuse to stop and observe in detail.

3. A brew or a snack: It seems normal when we’re out for a ‘proper’ walk in a beauty spot to take a drink and something to eat, to find a bench, a rock or a tree trunk to sit on and rest for a while. And I can see no reason why you can’t do this in your local area too (lockdown rules excepted – check the latest on picnics!). A hot drink, in particular, guarantees you some time to sit and relax while you wait for it to cool enough. You could always go hardcore and take a flask of hot water to make your own fresh nettle tea – expect questions from passers-by, but if, like me, you’re the only adult in your house, it can be nice to have a face-to-face conversation with someone. Anyone…

4. Litter picking: This is one I’m determined to do more of and I believe that if I contact my local council they will supply a litter picker and bags. If you’re litter picking, you will be slowing down and looking around you – just make sure you take time to take in the nice stuff as well as the rubbish. And doing your good turn for your community is on the list of mental health wins. Expect more conversations with passing strangers, but hopefully positive ones.

5. Take a child: Ok, not just any old child; you could get in trouble. At the moment, it will have to be your own if you can muster one up. The smaller the better. Small ones have no idea that a walk is about getting somewhere and will meander and get distracted by every bug and pine cone. And you can do the same, because everyone will understand that it’s the kid’s doing. Larger ones can become problematic but still provide a helpful foil. My son has just reminded me of when I lay down in a woody area at the National Trust’s Dunham Massey to look up at the sky through the autumnal leaves, to his utter mortification. He won’t be pleased to hear this, but I probably wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t been there.

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Those special trees of our youth

On a foraging course this autumn, we visited a 550-year-old sweet chestnut. It’s an astonishing tree, twisted and spreading wide like something straight out of a fairytale. Knobbly enough to be easy to climb – and rewarding the intrepid with a good view of a beefsteak fungus, though this one was a bit small to harvest for our group cook-up. 

The chestnut’s trunk was vast. I reckon it would have taken at least half a dozen people reaching round to encircle it. Many of its branches had dead limbs and splits riven with grooves and swirls as if they had been sandblasted, but its leaf cover was still that special fresh green that only the sweet chestnut maintains all summer long and its nut yield was bountiful though they were the small nuts of a northerly climate beyond its natural range.

It got me thinking of a book I’d been reading on forest bathing, in which the author asks readers to think back to their own memories of trees. Of trees that were special in a way they can be only for children. Not necessarily the biggest, or oldest, or prettiest, but the ones that shaped our interactions with the natural world. 

Trees like the willows with horizontal trunks reaching out over Budworth Mere beside the path at Marbury Country Park in Cheshire. Trunks my brother and I balanced out along, feeling so daring, so adventurous as the surface of the lake beckoned. 

Trees like the staghorn sumac in the garden of friends. It was one of those situations where the back corner of their garden bordered the back corner of ours so a gate had been installed. The sumac was in their front garden and we used to line up sitting along a branch, me and my brother and the two other kids. I was the youngest. 

Now I think about it, I can’t imagine a staghorn sumac ever being big enough for four kids to sit in and I wonder if my memory is quite right. But I distinctly remember those big fuzzy red seedheads so perhaps our sitting tree was next to a sumac.

There were the cherries that lined the edge of the cemetery on the way to primary school and gave a glorious show of pink exuberance in May, before the blossoms turned brown and slimy and coated the pavement. The trees – unknown species but I would guess sycamore – on the other edge of the cemetery which deposited a layer of browny red leaves over the pavement well worth a good kicking in the autumn. There was either less dog poop around then or I was too young to worry about it. 

It wasn’t all fun and games. There was a tree I insisted on climbing on a primary school residential trip to Delamere Forest – keen to show off my tomboy status – and in which I ignominously got stuck and from which I had to be rescued by the teacher. The shame.

Do you remember a special tree from your childhood? A good climber in your garden or a great source of conkers in the local park?

The book is M Amos Clifford, Your Guide to Forest Bathing: Experience the Healing Power of Nature.

The tree is at Chirk Castle, near Wrexham, North East Wales, and they know how old it is because there are records of tree planting on the estate.

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The journey to Nature Connect NW

Many of us have spent some time this year – 2020, the year of Covid – reflecting on what life is all about and where ours is heading to. And it’s been the same for me. All my forest school work went on hold in March. Luckily, I have an office job too (now done from home) that’s kept the bills paid.

For me, it’s been a curious convergence of ideas, interests and activities. Mindfulness. Permaculture (bear with me and I’ll explain). Community. Exploring locally. Getting a bike. For a long time, I’d daydreamed of delivering my own woodland activities rather than always doing it freelance for other organisations. I liked the idea of doing it more locally, in my own community. I liked the idea of being free to develop activities in my own way. And, let’s admit it, I liked the idea of earning a bit more money.

The beginning of lockdown was quite calm for me. I realise I’m fortunate that my friends and family have remained well and that I had the option to work from home in my other job. Life became smaller, simpler and more gently paced. I took my daily exercise around Wigg Island, along the Bridgewater Canal, up on Runcorn Hills, or on my allotment. In a stroke of luck, I’d bought a bike earlier in the year, before the lockdown rush, and this widened my world to Moore Nature Reserve and the St Helens Canal without having to get in the car. It was still a very human-scale world. The weather helped. Week after week of uncharacteristically settled, warm, sunny weather. The allotment needed a lot of watering, but it was lovely to be able to spend so much time outdoors, even if much of it was only in my diminutive back yard.

But my brain started whirring away, as brains do. And I started to fill my time up with new things. I took an evening class in permaculture – facilitated by Covid since these things were now happening on Zoom. So I was able to join the folks at North Devon Permaculture in a way I couldn’t have if I’d had to travel there. I read a lot on the subject too. It’s kind of about growing your own food in an environmentally way – but it’s also so much more than that; it’s a way of designing the systems in your life and in society so they all work together in a regenerative way. Sounds a bit airy fairy, I know, but I like the way it helped me look at work and life as a whole, to think about what my values in life are, to integrate my newly awakened realisation that I need some kind of community in my life. Who knew? I’m an introvert. I’m not keen on ‘people’ en masse, but I do value real connection to individuals.

Meditation sessions at the Odiyana Kadampa centre in Northwich were another thing that went online, meaning I could attend. I work some evenings and I’m a single parent, so although my son is now old enough to be left alone for a short while, I’ve spent years cramming ‘me time’ into his stays at his dad’s (I think this has actually given me more time do my own thing in terms of running for the hills at a weekend than many mums get, but mid-week evenings have been a no-no). And I found an eight-week mindfulness course with Breathworks in Manchester. I’d looked around previously for such a course I could get to in person with no luck, but now I could do it. So I moved from years of reading books and dabbling in mindfulness to embedding it more fully into my life.

As I was applying permaculture design principles to my life, I formulated my mission: to help more people connect with nature in the way that I find so wonderful. Around that are ideas of being part of that regenerative culture, of getting off my backside and doing something truly beneficial. Of using my unique set of skills and experiences in communications, teaching, knowledge of nature and development of mindfulness practices in a positive way.

One thing led to another and one day I finally found myself picking up the phone to get quotes for insurance and ask the council about using public parks and find out from the chamber of commerce if there would be any help or advice available for a forest bathing-stroke-forest school venture in Halton. Before I knew it, I was writing a risk assessment and practising my session on friends and friends of friends who kindly agreed to be guinea pigs without really knowing what it was all about. I took the advice of my mentor at the Liverpool City Region Enterprise Hub to set a date for  my first session and get on with it, wrestled with WordPress and Eventbrite and launched myself on the world.