Essay and Photo By Katherine Munter
“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn.” -John Muir
I sat with my nose in a math book, trying to study as numbers swirled like autumn leaves in the wind. I had a quiz in the morning, and I knew I didn’t have many points to spare. Lightning brightened my room, and I quietly counted in my head, measuring the space between the flash and the thunder. One… two… three… the storm’s grumble roared through the room, vibrating the lamp on my desk.
As I turned back to my book, I heard a tap on the window. I stiffened, imagining an ominous creature lurking outside, knocking on the pane. Just as I relaxed, assuring myself the wind was blowing rain against the glass, there was another tap. With caution, I approached the window and peered out into the storm. Lightning flashed, illuminating the face of my friend. Smiling, I opened it to let him in. Instead, he encouraged me to follow him out, into the storm.
More lightning flashed. Swaying tree branches beckoned me to join them. It was early spring, and the few warmer days we’d had were giving way to a rush of cold wind. Last autumn’s leaves were lifted and tossed by gusts before heavy raindrops knocked them back to the ground. Thunder boomed, and my fear came rolling out in giggles as I watched my friend shake his rain-soaked hair.
He reached a dripping hand through the window, and I initially shrunk back when I felt his damp skin. I was torn between the part of me that wanted to stay cozy and dry, and the part of me that wanted to run into the spring bluster. Releasing my studying to the wind, I pulled on shoes and climbed out the window.
Heavy rain instantly drenched my clothes, and I was invigorated by the earthy smell of petrichor. As though we were alone in world, we gleefully laughed as we ran up the street, splashing in puddles and raising our arms to the sky. Flashes of light reflected off the wet ground, where water formed little rivers and raced downhill. Fingers of rain massaged my skin and washed away my cares.
As a child, I often pretended to be John Muir as I adventured into the forest behind our house. Immersed in the present moment, I approached the woods with curiosity and reverence. I was inspired by the way he leaned into storms, embracing sensation. His words helped me to learn that my own place is not so separate from the world around me, and that in nature, I could find peace.
Adult life often pulls my thoughts toward compiling stressors. Deadlines and pressures have grown louder than the relative quiet of the woods, and it’s become easy to lose my footing in to-do lists.
Sometimes, though, my curiosity cuts through my day-to-day noise. Becoming a mother and watching my children’s awe at the natural world has been a powerful reminder to step back, ground myself, become playful, and just be. Through my children’s eyes, I re-experience the joy of walking in a midday rainstorm, not holding back but rather embracing the moment, lifting our arms to the sky and allowing the droplets to wash our faces.
That math test I was studying for… decades ago? I don’t recall whether I passed it; my grade has been lost to time. In any case, I graduated, and what I do vividly remember, as though it was yesterday, are moments like the time I jumped out my window into the rain.
Nature is a powerful teacher and healer. Spring is a time of rebirth, of growth after the restful hibernation of winter. I remind myself to allow moments of presence and joy to burst into my days, like a crocus breaking through the frozen ground.
What lessons do you want to lean into, during this time of growth and renewal?
Katherine Munter, clinical psychologist, art therapist, and founder of Creative Life Therapy, an Ann Arbor practice of art therapy and integrative wellbeing. Learn more at www.CreativeLifeTherapy.com.
