Now more than ever, Nature has something to teach us about the beauty of being connected, vulnerable, diverse, abundant, and inclusive. —Anchored Hope Therapy

I am Deaf. My father has Alzheimers. My best friend has chronic pain and auto-immune disease. I have a co-worker and partner who has cerebral palsy and identifies as a DeafDisabled person. I used to date a DeafBlind woman. Myself and many of my friends and family require accommodations. Disability, the experience living with disability (deafness and my most recent diagnosis of generalized anxiety disorder) and interacting with people with disabilities is deeply interwoven in my life. My world has been expanded by interacting with them, not limited. But I have seen the limits that the able-bodied world has imposed on them.

Growing up, I was told that I wouldn’t be able to successfully find a job in an outdoors-related or healing profession. As a child, I wanted to become a vet or an animal rights activist, but I didn’t have role models of Deaf people working in those industries nor the skills yet to advocate for myself to pave that path. So, I chose the comfortable and acceptable space of the Deaf/signing community and became a teacher at a Deaf school. When I got diagnosed with anxiety and had to leave my job, I had a spiritual awakening. I had a vision that revealed my real purpose on earth- it was to expand my care for all living beings, including the More Than Human World. I became a Nature and Forest Therapy guide to heal both myself and help others heal. It is through my connection with the Forest that I have explored and discovered how Nature can provide a place for healing, through access intimacy and care webs.

So, what is access intimacy?

Access intimacy is that elusive, hard to describe feeling when someone else “gets” your access needs. The kind of eerie comfort that your disabled self feels with someone on a purely access level. Sometimes it can happen with complete strangers, disabled or not, or sometimes it can be built over years. It could also be the way your body relaxes and opens up with someone when all your access needs are being met. —Mia Mingus, Leaving Evidence¹

ID: A group of people sit around signing and gesturing to each other with the text “Access intimacy is that elusive, hard to describe feeling when someone ‘gets’ your access needs. — Mia Mingus, Disabled Queer BIPOC Activist”

Every year, 40 million people with disabilities are denied jobs. I am part of that number, unable to work certain jobs not because of my inability to hear, but because the price of accommodations makes it hard for small businesses to hire. Furthermore, Deaf and hard of hearing people lack access to healing: Statistics reveal that they are 3-4 times more likely to have emotional and psychological disorders (like anxiety & depression) compared with their hearing peers, approximately 65% of deaf women experience suicidal ideation, approximately 40% Deaf/HOH people will attempt suicide in their lifetime, at least 50% will consider suicide at one point in their lives.² With these numbers in mind, we as Nature/Forest Therapy guides should create a container that is accessible and inclusive. It should incorporate radical love and ensure that no one is left behind.

“Access should come from love, not obligation.” ³

ID: Black and white photo of four people sitting close, touching, smiling, and protactiling together with the words “access should come from love, not obligation.”

Photo Credit: Mariana Krueger⁴

What my Forest and Nature Therapy training program provided me (access to interpreters, captioning), etc. felt like a gesture of love, not obligation: access intimacy. During my immersion where I was the only Deaf participant in the group, I was able to articulate my thoughts and feelings through our interpreters. The ending of the ceremony had us all singing and signing songs, so rather than being excluded, I was invited to teach the translation of the song in my language. We all sang and signed in unison.

VD: A man playing a guitar in the middle of a circle of people singing and signing along.

Watch the full video here.

It was in the hours after the immersion, when I gathered with my cohort, that I truly felt a sense of access intimacy. When my interpreters departed the immersion, I carpooled with a group downtown and went out to dinner. I started to become anxious because I knew that without interpreters, communication within a group where I was the only Deaf person would be difficult to follow. However, my group asked how they could support my access needs and we settled on writing back and forth in candlelight, gesturing, and using whatever sign language they learned from the immersion. It was the most accessible dinner table conversation with a group of hearing people that I have ever experienced. I felt instantly accepted by my “Forest Family ” and safe to be able to be fully myself and to ask for accommodations without the feeling of shame or guilt.

Mia Mingus, a disability rights activist and writer, has been one of my favorite disability justice leaders for their efforts in dismantling the system of oppression caused by able-bodied white supremacy. Mingus is famous for her work related to disability justice and inclusion: she is quoted “where you are is where I want to be.”

ID: A group of people stand outdoors, hand in hand, smiling with the words “where you are is where I want to be. —Mia Mingus, Disabled Queer BIPOC Activist”. Photo credit: Mariana Krueger⁴

This saying pleads for the inclusion of disabled people, on a collective level, where we socialize and navigate interdependently. It is often rare to see someone accessing care that’s very intimate, without shame, and with everyone laughing and having a good time. Collective access is access that we intentionally create collectively, instead of individually. Most of the time, the responsibility for coordinating access is placed on the individual who needs it. It is up to that person alone to figure out their own access, or sometimes, up to them and a caregiver or random friend. This is sometimes taxing on our health, self-esteem, and depletes us of our energy. “Bring your own interpreter” is a slap in our faces when we ask for access.

Nature’s Way of Showing Access Intimacy:

I have been reflecting a lot on how Nature (and Nature/Forest Therapy) has provided access intimacy- here are some examples:

First, Nature does not judge nor discriminate, humans do. Disability is a social construction and a product of the “tamed world”. As I wrote in my previous blog article, it is us (humans) who create those barriers- not nature. Nature doesn’t care if you crawl, swim, run 100mph, or just sit there. Nature doesn’t measure your weight, or care if you have makeup or about the color of your skin. It is our systems that cause prejudice. In nature, you can feel accepted for who you are. When you are in a safe and comforting space in Nature (perhaps with a guide you trust), you can totally relax, and that is access intimacy.

ID: Photo of a spider web covered in water droplets with the words “through care-webs,

we are all connected.”

Another idea related to access intimacy is that of a “care-web”, or a collective consciousness to help each other out. In the “tamed world”, access is rarely woven into a collective commitment and way of being. It is often isolated and relegated to an afterthought (much like disabled people are.)⁵ And access is complex. The More Than Human World, on the other hand, models innumerable examples of interdependence, of living beings working together: you see this “care web” in the many existing ecosystems and also symbiotic relationships between ostriches and zebras, elephants and beetles, woodpeckers and ants. And interspecies communities live at a collective level, incorporating interbeing: the pod of dolphins, the flock of geese, the mycelium supporting the trees, and quantum energy that moves us all. Native American traditions show this. And disabled communities who bond have shown this.

Why do they do that? One word: balance. To survive in ecosystems with limited resources, there needs to be the right amount of give-and-take. This is how ecosystems maintain integrity and sustain themselves.

Also, we have an extended branch of nature therapy that includes the More Than Human World providing service or guidance with our access needs- for example, we get healing support & benefits from horse therapy, dogs/cats can be service animals for Deaf and Blind people, or can be trained to detect upcoming seizures, we see how autistic children benefit from equestrian therapy, and so on.

ID: Photo of a human hand touching a horse’s jaw with the words “nature does not judge, humans do.”

The unconditional love we get from animals, and even more so when we nurture the relationship by caring for them, feeding them, is what helps us feel less lonely. Forest Therapy also allowed me to embrace my identity as a Deaf human being, because Nature does not judge. There is a reciprocal relationship there- and I have received this firsthand with my emotional support and service dog, Petey, who provides me unconditional love and emotional support.

Another example is slowing down to the pace of Nature. Often when we are spending time out in nature, time becomes less important. We follow sunrises and sunsets. I’ve called this “turtle pace”. Meredith, a DeafDisabled person who is now enrolled into becoming a Forest and Nature Therapy guide, is exploring ways to express their needs for accommodations through sharing their experience in “Last no more”. The forest provides that slowing down for Meredith and allows for listening/sharing.

When we follow hearing, able-bodied, sighted people’s pace, we [disabled people] don’t find ourselves being our natural selves. We constantly burn ourselves out when we attempt to internalize the system of able-bodied concepts of time… For example, I am annoyed by society’s expectations of communicating & responding quickly. I am constantly feeling pressured to keep up with their pace of communication. Most of the time, I just listen and not say anything, because I am either still processing or they’ve already moved to another topic. When I want to express something, my brain knows what I want to say but the signal is not sending to my hand quick enough for me to sign it. It takes a while for me to get it out, when it doesn’t come out quick enough, I stutter. Which makes me frustrated with myself and I’m feeling I’m wasting people’s time. — Meredith Burke⁶</