[header photo Image description: An overhead shot of two people sitting on limestone at the water’s edge, canes at their sides, arms intertwined, touching one another’s bare legs with leaves]
In the beginning of my newly certified status as an ANFT guide, I was asked to write a blog explaining my perspective on guiding people with disabilities, including Deaf people, and provide tips for current and future guides. While I understood the importance of making Nature accessible to all, including people with all kinds of disabilities, I didn’t feel I had enough guiding experience, so I only wrote about my own perspective as a guide — as Summer — including my intersectional identities as a sighted, Deaf, queer polyamorous person with mental health disability.
Now, a year has passed, and I’ve had several opportunities of guiding people with various abilities; I have learned and relearned a lot through my connections with them in an inclusive space provided by the Forest. I’ve decided to write this blog, not from my own perspective, but to weave together other Disabled people’s stories of their experiences connecting with Nature as a form of Story Weaving1. I will also add some perspectives from the field of Disability Justice/Disability Studies and Crip Theory to those stories of my participants who identify as having a disability, or more than one disability. I would like to honor each ancestral land where I have written this blog (Dakota, Ojibwe, and Lakota) where these stories take place.
“Where you are, is where I want to be.” — Mia Mingus
Everyone wants to be included when it comes to being outdoors, and having access to healing means different things for everyone. Disabled activist Mia Mingus reminds us to consider inclusion in every form. Most of the time, we as forest therapy guides craft our guiding practice based on able-bodied ways of guiding. Sometimes our well-intentioned action comes from ignorance: We may invite people to “listen” to the sound of the creek, forgetting that there are Deaf participants, or we ask a Blind person to gaze at the clouds. Perhaps in a group, we encourage people to be silent and sit alone, not realizing that this may be triggering for those (particularly disabled folks) who are often already excluded in outdoor activities or have had too much time “alone”.
Let’s first deconstruct the concept of ability and disability in the Natural world. Disability is a social construction where society puts a value on being able to be stronger, better, and/or faster. Nature does not discriminate nor decide who or how someone is more able-bodied to do certain things. We humans do. Perpetuating the thinking that Nature is for everyone, but not taking the time to actually learn from people with Disabilities can be counter-productive, no matter how well-intentioned we are. So first of all, relax… slow down, and listen with an open heart and mind.
Co-Navigating2 with DeafBlind and DeafDisabled bodies
The philosophy of Forest Bathing emphasizes interdependence and reciprocity: We are reminded to put away our “expert” ego as guides, and rather trust that the Forest and Nature know what we need. There is no prescription for what a person “should” experience, and what benefits they “should” receive. This aligns with the view of Disability Justice where interdependence and reciprocity are also valued.
Co-navigating, a term in Disability Studies, is much like the relational (or reciprocal) relationship between the Forest and the participant, where humans find a way to work together that supports the wholeness and wellness of each. In co-navigation, we use our bodies, our skills, our experience to navigate in a system that is mostly inaccessible. For example, in the able-bodied space where information is presented visually, sighted people may provide visual information through touch or protactile3, the new emerging language of DeafBlind community. But in DeafBlind spaces (like homes of DeafBlind people, DeafBlind gatherings, or camps), sighted people rely on DeafBlind to support them by showing them tactical knowledge or ways of being. There will be more examples of co-navigation in this article.
[id: two hands overlap, touching moss, ferns, and lichen on a rocky surface]
Slowing Down at a Turtle’s Pace…. Lessons from the Turtle
Most outdoor-focused or adventure-bound programs, especially expeditions, are focused on reaching the summit or getting to a destination at a competitive pace. There is often a lot of applause given to disabled people who achieve in individual sports. Here, Meredith, a DeafDisabled queer, explains their first experience with Forest bathing:
“I have hiked, backpacked, camped, and been active outdoors, so I knew what to expect, which was to move at an able-bodied pace which is challenging for my cerebral palsy. However, with this session, it really felt like Nature was saying, “Slow down, Feel it, Live it, Stop when you need to, and be like a turtle.” You know in the turtle and rabbit story…. You know the turtle wins at the end because it took its time. Being in nature, I don’t have to worry about time; and this session reminded me to follow my own pace.”
Summer and Meredith share their recollection of the time when interdependence helped in building trust and saving us when co-navigating in nature:
My recent session with Summer was a challenging hike up a waterfall, it was rainy and wet. I didn’t trust Summer, nor did I trust myself out in nature. But as the hike went on, I started to trust Summer more and knew they would prevent something from happening and we co-navigated hand-in-hand interdependently. As we were walking back to where we started, Summer was near the edge and started to lose their balance. But because we were arm in arm, I felt Summer stumble and was leaning towards the edge of a cliff. I immediately tightened my grip and pulled them towards me preventing the fall. This experience made me trust myself more and become more confident in Nature. — Meredith
[id: Summer and Meredith’s hands intertwine, their feet and a patch of woods blurry in the background]
Meredith has cerebral palsy, a physical condition where the muscles are not coordinated and the body needs time to do physical activities a certain way, so hiking at an able-bodied pace is often challenging. As a guide, I was responsible for creating a safe container where their disability did not hinder them from full participation in nature. Together, we adapted our walk to a waterfall, which was quite challenging with uneven surfaces (roots, rocks, and unpaved trails). During this walk, I noticed things more — my sense of balance was more focused, and we slowed down to a turtle’s pace. For some folks, walking this slow may be considered “boring”, but for me, it invoked creativity and made me more receptive of to how our disabled bodies navigate in various environments — how we flow with water, how we run our fingers across the moss-lined rocks, how we balance ourselves as we hike. I also felt a sense of compassion and interdependence guiding, arm-in-arm, laughing, and exploring Nature together.
Interdependence, not Independence
A fast-paced mindset focused on overcoming obstacles can be harmful. This doesn’t do much to help us create interdependence. Individualistic adventuring divides us, forcing us to be independent, thus increasing our chance of “running out of spoons”.4 That is so often praised in our culture, but it can also have negative results; it creates competition, comparison, division, and violence. It feeds our hubris, it isolates us, and this eventually may increase our sense of loneliness which leads us to depression and suicide.
In truth, we are social creatures. We need each other more than ever. That’s why interdependence, not independence, is a more desirable part of Nature and Forest Therapy.
[id: Three individuals, one blindfolded and the others’ eyes closed, embrace
one another and walk barefoot on soft, herb-covered ground]
No one is ever independent. Even in nature, if you’re hiking or camping alone, you normally think you are independent, when in reality you depend on nature to provide you with something. For example, trees help us survive by providing oxygen; that’s interdependence. Like as Summer wrote above, “This act of individualistic adventuring divides us, making us independent thus increasing our chance of ‘running out of spoons’.” I personally do run out of spoons quickly when I attempt to do a lot of things independently in nature. At times, I do want to try things myself to make myself feel good, the “YAY, I DID IT!” feeling. But being interdependent helps me achieve more of my goals and to feel fully part of the experience. —Meredith
Access Intimacy and Holding Space for Collective Access
Interdependence fosters a sense of collective access. What is collective access? Collective access is access that we intentionally create collectively, instead of individually. “Most of the time, access is placed on the individual who needs it. It is up to you to figure out your own access, or sometimes, up to you and your caregiver or random friend. Access is rarely woven into a collective commitment and way of being, it is isolated and relegated to an afterthought (much like disabled people are.)”5 Access is complex and there’s no one perfect form or structure that will fit all people with disabilities. You have to ask the person what their needs are.