Out in the Woods, We Can Be Ourselves
Why I love to spend time in the outdoors

A few years ago, I was at an event hosted by a nonprofit agency that works to get school-aged children out of the classroom and into the forest in order to experience hands-on learning.
During the event, a kindergarten teacher began talking about the positive outcomes she was having with her class during their outdoor education days each month. She had a whole list of anecdotal evidence to share that made her believe the experience was worth pursuing, but one of the things she mentioned didn’t have anything to do with education and yet really struck a chord with me. She said one of her students told her:
I feel like I can be myself when I’m out in the forest.
When I heard this, it gave me the chills. I hadn’t really put it into words before, but this is exactly what I feel like when I’m out in the woods.
The greatest privilege of being in the wild world is that we get to connect with our own wildness (which is what we really are, after all). We get so caught up in the myths we’ve created around being humans that we forget we are still part of the kingdom Animalia, part of the genus Mammalia. We are animals, belonging to the forest, the desert, the mountains, the rivers.
That wild world is our home, and if we let go of the pretensions of the modern world, it can feel like home.
Here’s how I know I belong in the forest:
Out in the woods, I never have to worry about how I look. I don’t have to put on makeup. I don’t even have to wash my hair. I can lie in the dirt and stare up at the sky through the canopy of branches and experience the freedom of not caring a lick about what I look like.
Out in the woods, I can sing. I don’t censor myself and my love of music comes spilling out. I hum as I’m walking, I sing softly while sitting by the creek, I even call out loud tunes from the top of the hill to see if I can make an echo of song in the fields below me. I don’t mind so much when I miss a note (which happens a lot). I don’t worry that someone will judge my voice. I just sing and I know the squirrels, the vines, and the owls love to hear these melodies.

Out in the woods, I can stop and pick up items off the ground for closer inspection. I can examine a gopher’s skull that’s peeking out from an old owl pellet. I can smell the sagebrush and watch it sway in the wind. I can sit on a rock and wait patiently for a heron to descend in the nearby marsh. No one is there to tell me to hurry. I don’t have to achieve anything or complete a task. I can just observe.
Out in the woods, I can be myself. I don’t have to impress anyone. I don’t have to worry about saying the right thing, about having good manners, about keeping the peace. Everything I do in the woods is the right thing in the right moment. There’s no judgment from the flowers, the deer, the clouds. I am what I am in that moment and what I am is perfect.
Out in the woods, I can sit with my legs open. I can perch on a tree branch. I can lie in the dirt and get absolutely filthy. I can allow my clothing to become decorated with twigs and brambles.
Out in the woods, I can access my deepest creativity and passion. Everything excites me. Fuels me. Enraptures me. I can tip my head back, take in a deep breath, and let the energy build in me — an energy that will later become a book, an essay, a painting, a song…
The woods demand nothing of me.
The woods take nothing from me.
The woods embrace me — not “imperfections, and all,” but me, as a whole, with no judgment. There’s no such thing as “imperfections.” I’m just a set of patterns, fractals, elements, observations, pulses, and movements, just like every other living creature out there. We are, all of us, together, one.
That little kindergarten student was right. We can be ourselves out in the woods. And what greater gift is there than that?
© Yael Wolfe 2019
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