On forests, nervous systems, and why spring feels like ‘life returning’
There is a strong reason why spring, to me at least feels very emotional.
Not just because the sun shines longer; thus making the days lighter, and the apparant beauty visible longer. But it also seems to have a positive effect on my emotions.
Almost as if something inside my body begins waking up again, alongside the earth.
And I do not think that feeling is imaginary.
In Scandinavia, Spring especially has historically meant far more than just warmer weather. After long winters of darkness, isolation, cold and the need to survive, spring represented the light, warmth and follow up movement returning to the world, where people were once again ‘safe’ until the next wintertime.
During the spring, the ground softened. People began to gather again, and the animals reappeared with the forest accesibility.
And for thousands of years, human nervous systems adapted themselves around nature’s mechanisms.
Personally, I think about this often when I walk in the old forest behind my parents house.
The forest stretches all the way from our area to my old elementary school and beyond – ancient enough that parts of it likely existed during the viking age.
When I was a child, I used to sit there alone during school breaks. At the time I was stressed, heavily bullied and very overwhelmed.
So, instead of forcing myself into unkind, noisy social spaces, I just dissapeared into the trees. And became «The girl who talkes to trees».
And even then – before I understood disability, nervous systems, or stress regulation – my body was already aware of something important:
The forest calmed me down.
– The smell of wet earth.
– The calm movement of leaves.
– The filtered light through the branches.
– Birdsong in the sky
– And the quiet repetition of nature.
It all softened something inside me.
And now, years later ,science increasingly confirms what humans have probably, instinctively known for centuries:
Nature regulates us.
Modern research increasingly supports this instinctive human relationship with nature. As an example, studies on Shirin-yoku – the Japanese practice often translated to «forest bathing», have repeatedly shown reductions in cortisol (the body’s primary stress hormone), anxiety, blood-pressure, and nervous-system overload, after time spent in forest environments. (Sage Journals/ PubMed).
One 2019 systematic review and meta-analysis examining multiple forest-bathing studies found significantly lower cortisol levels in people exposed to forest environments compared to those mainly exposed to urban ones (PubMed).
And honestly, I do not find that surprising at all.
Because the human nevrous system was never built entirely for concrete notifications, fluorecent lights and endless urgency.
Instead, for most of human history – especially in Northern Europe – forests were a sense of safetey, shelter, medicine, sprirituality and survival ability
Furthermore, these studies on forest exposure even attribute that short exposure to green spaces can positively affect mood and cognitive recovery.
This research suggests that even short exposure to green environments can improve mood, reduce mental fatigue, and help regulate overstimulation – sometimes only within a few minutes of sensory exposure to nature (PubMed).
And to be honest, I think disabled people often feel this especially strong. Because, when your body is already overstimulated, exhausted, inflamed or neurologically overwhelmed, nature does not demand a performance from you.
A forest day does not care how productive you are.
Or how social you are. Or how much energy you have that day.
It simply allows you to exist.
«And into the forest I go, to lose my mind
and find my soul.»
– John Muir
Spring and the disabled nervous system
As was my own situation, I think that Spring can often become a kind of nervous-system reset for many disabled people. Not nesessarily in these dramatic «new beginnings» kind of way that social media often presents, but rather in the forms of «spring healing», one small step at the time.
Things like Opening a window early morning to hear the birdsong in the wind, standing in the sunlight for a few minutes. Walking slowly throughouth the day instead of constantly being efficient. Or just sitting quietly beside a tree, letting your shoulders unclench.
Perhaps these small things matter more than we think.
Because, disabled people often spend enormous amounts of time surviving in the world:
– endless appointments
– varying daily symptoms
– overstimulation and pain
– Daily masking
– Constant future uncertainty
So, spring quietly reminds the body that survival is not the only state available to us.
Historically, humans belonged to the seasons
Modern life often treats humans as seperate from nature. But historically, especially in Norther Europe, as mentioned before, seasonal rhytmic events shaped nearly everything; still do to some extend.
But earlier, this applied to nearly everything:
– Food
– Sleep
– Work
– Celebration
– Religion
– Movement
– Community
Even many Christian spring traditions in Scandinavia carry traces of older pagan seasonal rituals underneath them; fertility, symbols, grenery, fire, cleansing, sunlight and renewal. |
And maybe part of why spring affects us so deeply is because our bodies still remember those rhytms, even within modern systems.
Especially bodies that are already sensitive to change.
Disabled joy in spring
I also think that disabled joy can look very different during springtime.
Instead of social-media adapted dramatic adventures, sometimes they can be as simple as having enough energy to picnic outside in the sun, the smell of heavy rain on newly cut grass, opening a balcony/ garden door or window for fresh air – or simply realizing your nervous system feels slightly easier to control than it did two months ago.
«Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.»
– Ralp Waldo Emerson
And while simple, I still think this counts as joyful.
Because, many of us are forced into different bodily rhytms long before we are emotionally ready for them.
Thus, perhaps what is actually happening is that springtime gently reminds us that our slower pace is not a failure in life, but a form of nature-led pace that is both peaceful and easy to commit to.
Tiny things matter!
A few gentle spring rituals
These are not productivity or self improvement projects, just a form of nervouss system kindness towards ourselves and our bodies:
– Open a window for five minutes in the spring morning
– Sit outside withouth the need to ‘do’ anything.
– Touch Moss, bark, leaves or grass intentionally
– Listen to birds instead of music once a day
– Let sunlight hit your face before you open screens (remember SPF!)
– Take a slow morning routine somewhere, if possible
– Allow yourself to notice the beauty of nature
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A small task for you, reader…
This week, try to spend a few quiet minutes somewhere natural – even if its only a garden or a park bench, or even just an open window.
And ask yourself:
«What happens in my body when I stop trying to move faster than nature does?»
You do not have to bloom all at once
No part of nature ever does.
– Silje
