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‘ The silence I had been expecting
doesn ’t actually exist at all ’
I’ve been given a tent cloth for shelter, a whistle and
a tarp to lie on. I myself brought a sleeping bag, a mat,
warm clothes, toilet paper, a shovel to dig a hole for a
toilet, a flashlight, two bottles of water (one mixed with
lemon juice and maple syrup), anti-mosquito spray, tick
tweezers and a hat. That’s it.
Just like at home, I immediately make a plan. First,
I’ll hang up the tent cloth, then make my bed and then
establish the circle Henrik described: “If you want to
take on the challenge,” he said, “make a circle with a
diameter of four meters and stay inside it. You will find
everything you need there.” Namely, yourself. Like a
woman possessed, I get started. I choose two trees,
stretch the ropes, remove thistles, pull off protruding
leaves and unfold the groundsheet. But I am still not
satisfied. I switch trees and turn everything around until
it feels right.
I like the idea that five other ‘questers’ in the same
forest are setting up their ‘camp’ at this same moment.
I met them for the first time this morning. They include
a young woman who works for the World Wildlife
Fund, a university lecturer, a physics student, a
theology student and a mother who runs a design
agency. We are each alone, but still in this together.
One is about to have a baby and sees this as a rite of
passage; another is so tired of the bustle in the city
that she has given herself these 24 hours of restfulness
as a gift.
Once I’ve put the mat and sleeping bag under the
tarp, my residence for the night is ready. I make a
circle out of branches, and am quickly able to settle
in—though I don’t know exactly how quickly, because
I don’t have a watch or clock. That’s when I feel like
it’s really started. The sun is high. It’s mid-afternoon
and I have hours and hours to go. I don’t have much
experience with meditation. I reassure myself that if I
don’t manage to keep sitting here, I’ll just walk around
and, in 24 hours, it will be over and I can check the
nature quest off my to-do list.
CRICKETS, DRAGONFLIES AND SPIDERS
I feel a gentle breeze. The leaves of the large tree
that I now live under are rustling. An intense fatigue
overwhelms me. Of course, I can also lie down in the
circle. Watching the passing clouds—not fluffy sheep,
but wisps, like the smoke from a chimney—I suddenly
hear birds singing and chirping, as if they’ve just
arrived. It’s the same with the buzzing bees, which are
hopping from flower to flower in my circle and flying
out again. Chirping crickets are hiding in the tall grass.
The silence I had been expecting doesn’t actually exist
at all. Splash, something jumps in the water. Two
dragonflies skim over it. There is so much to be heard
and seen. A spider is hanging upside down in its web.
A line of ants marches past, heading toward their anthill
with white grains clenched in their mandibles. Some
walk around the tall blades of grass; others over them.
‘Hey guys, there is a better way to get there’, I think out
loud, because nobody can hear me anyway. But then I
realize that I’m the crazy one, not them. What does it
matter how long they take? And who says the shortest
route is the best?
Proudly, I think: I can do this. This morning, when I
was trying to pack my bag at the same time as making
sandwiches for my children, feels eons away now. How
could I have thought I’d be bored? Nature is moving all
the time; there is always something to see. Once you’ve
adjusted to the rhythm, which is so much slower, time
flies. The sun disappears from my circle and sinks
behind the tall trees. I must have been sitting here for
hours already. What is it about nature? You don’t need
a mindfulness course to feel in the moment. According
to Dutch scientific journalist Mark Mieras, there is
increasing evidence that the stress-reducing effect of
nature comes from phytoncides, a substance that
plants and trees secrete to protect themselves against
insects. When we inhale these during a walk in the
woods, for example, they wake up our immune system
and the stress hormone level in our body drops. >