By Robert Koscik
At the Alert Program®, we know that regulation is something all of us do, throughout every day. We each use sensations, movement, sensory strategies, and environments to help our nervous systems shift and respond. Although we regulate ourselves, none of us does it entirely alone. At different moments, support may come from another person, an animal, a familiar rhythm…or the living world around us.
Writer, nature archivist, and creator of the Lost Trails video series, Robert Koscik, invites us to step into the wilderness and experience it as a powerful co-regulator.
Bob invites you to notice what happens when we become quiet enough to sense the pace of nature. What changes in your breathing, your emotions, your muscle tone, or your attention? What might become possible when we allow the wilderness to meet us….and invite us to lay down some of our usual defenses?
For therapists, caregivers, and educators, this is also an invitation to consider nature as part of the regulatory environment. For clients or groups for whom the woods are safe, accessible, welcome, and appropriate, time outdoors can offer a powerful shared experience. For others, the doorway might be a neighborhood park, an accessible garden, a place beneath one tree, an open window, or the sounds of a forest. The invitation is not one-size-fits-all.
Take a slow breath, let your usual defenses soften, and follow Bob into the wilderness.
Introduction by Jennie Len Largent
CEO, TherapyWorks, Inc., home of the Alert Program®
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Dawn rises in the forest in a perfect stillness. All around you, most of the woodland creatures are still asleep. There isn’t a breath of wind, only the feeling of complete peace as the world begins to awaken. Can you smell the rich scent of firs that have been resting in the cool night air? A bird begins her song, lightly at first until it becomes brave in the blooming dawn. Others join, different species emboldened by the rich golden light that casts low shadows through the forest. Warmth fills the air as the thick boughs of enormous conifers strain with their load of billowing lichen, tossed about lightly by a slight breeze. Listen. Can you hear the whisper of the wind blowing from the south, through the infinite forest below? The rising sun warms the world and it also warms you, cascading down orange upon bare arms that were only moments ago goose-bumped and clammy. There is no need for words or conversation, it is happening silently through the blissful chaos of nature. A reunion with what we have always been – part of the chorus, an essential piece.
Where have we come as a species? Where are we going? The scene described above is one that has been experienced by every creature since life began on Earth. We carry these internal indicators, unseen maps and clocks that are regulated by the land, by the seasons, and especially by the great celestial orb that sustains all life. Yet, in this modern era, most of us are regulated by electronic means. We awaken not by the sunrise, but by the blare of an alarm that disrupts circadian rhythms. Drugs, such as coffee, get us through the busy artificial morning that awaits. Perhaps a microwave burrito before we sit in traffic for an hour or so, to sit in an office in front of a computer for eight hours or more. Our eyes strain under fluorescent lighting much too white, staring blankly at the endless documents glowing in front of us. The smell of copy machines fills the air, toasted toner under air conditioned cubicles. When the toil ends, it’s time to sit in rush hour madness once again. Back home to square walls and perhaps a numbing TV show until night falls without notice. It is too much. Millions of years of evolution hasn’t prepared us for this; we are living as abused animals in a zoo of our own creation.
The evidence lies in the waves of sadness and disconnect that plague our modern society. With the internet age, we are becoming increasingly cut off from each other in disturbing ways. Texts have replaced conversation. Entertainment keeps us numb and satiated. Opioids take the place of reality. What is even worse is that we are even becoming disconnected from ourselves. We haven’t built an Eden, it’s artificial like a canned energy drink. Children are born into this increasingly technical age; not only have we normalized this world we live in, but we also teach the youth to embrace a lifestyle that takes us further away from our humanity. Meanwhile, the complex processes of our physical universe are ruled and regulated by forces beyond our control and understanding. Have we, as humans, become unable to live a life that is surrounded by miracle and mystery?
My brain is wired a little weird. Among other colorful neurodiverse traits, such as being a HSP or “Highly Sensitive Person”, I can get really overwhelmed by the chaos and violence of daily life in the developed world. When things are especially chaotic, I become so profoundly overloaded that it actually gets stuck in a feedback loop, like a terrible squeal when a microphone gets too close to the speaker. I become agitated, confused. And the worst part? A terrible anxiety that portends doom, an exaggerated reaction to an artificial habitat filled with so much useless information that we all go mad to a certain degree. Most of us have learned to numb it out, filling our minds with smartphone techniques and celebrity “facts”, replacing the ritual of sunrise or food gathering. Community becomes secondary to the new rules of survival in a world dominated by the ghostly form of economics. What can we do?
For me, the answer has often begun with co-regulation…not only with another person, but with the forest itself. Its rhythms, sounds, scale, and steadiness can help my overwhelmed nervous system find another pace.
At a young age, I struggled with my fundamental self. A neglectful childhood exaggerated these dangers even further, thoughts that hungry lions lurk in shadows. Then, something happened that changed me forever: the forest called me home. My father was prone to bouts of anger, and during these times, I did all I could to escape. In the sleeping suburbs, what happens across the fence is invisible so no one was there to help. I hopped on my Huffy bike and pedaled frantically, anywhere away from that place that made life feel like the front lines of a pointless war. A mile, maybe two, to a baseball field and a park just down the road from the meanness at home. Just past the diamonds, something seemed to call out to me. Holding court under the bluest summer skies was a regal forest, giant elms and oaks swaying in this small patch of preserved Illinois – the forest primeval if only in the smallest sense.
A well-walked gravel path beckoned me into the dim light of the understory ahead, where the air seemed to be richer and almost emerald. Moths fluttered about, tiny fairies in the dappled sunshine that fell like dewdrops. I marveled at a cluster of Jack in the Pulpit plants, who seemed impossibly constructed, happily, without any intervention from mankind whatsoever.
“Impossible”, I thought.
Like asking a computer to solve a paradox, my brain arrived at something that had no solution or answer. But there it was, an ecosystem that works completely alone without any help at all. Something shifted in my young mind. Just for a moment, my thoughts actually stopped as I fully bathed in the miracle in the small grove of trees. In that process of just being and becoming, a subtle change happened. Without even knowing that a shift was occurring, Nature spoke to my heart. It was probably the most subtle and profound moment of my life. I felt the deepest peace. I could feel the thrill of really seeing this place, not as a park anymore, but as a direct example of the miracle of our very existence. How many cells in a leaf? How can a tree become an entire forest through the process of involution/evolution? Science can answer some of these questions. When the questions become paradox, then we have to look within for answers. Luckily, all of us have an intermediary.
Life seems to be a metaphor for something greater, an object just out of grasp and vision. One of the big lessons seems to be about cycles. From the shifting four seasons to “ashes to ashes, dust to dust”, our entire globe – and the universe itself – is constantly being remade. Even our bones are completely renewed every ten years. Through this, we feel the illusion that we will live forever. Although our bodies decay and our children grow up and flee the nest, our consciousness remains unchanged. We are undergoing massive physical changes, yet our true self remains ever changeless like stainless steel. Nature is not only an example of an infinity of violent cycles, it also stands for the true peace of togetherness that this existence represents.
In Nature, nothing is superfluous, everything has a purpose and a place. There is no waste, everything is accounted for and part of a greater good. Every shed leaf becomes a rich topsoil that nurtures future generations of plant and creature. So many chains entwine, trophic pyramids of dominance and interdependence cross those of consciousness and pain. Every thing is a sacred thread of a quilt we’ll never quite see. Besides these obvious physical characteristics, something else is available to all of us, a direct link to the source of peace and Reality itself. This may be the most important thing to our growth. However, it is only accessible when we approach the natural world as our wise loving mother, the most tender teacher.
When you’re traveling, it is often important to learn a little of the language of the country you’re visiting. Understanding your host’s words and feelings always enriches the adventure and makes faraway places feel more like home. Then, we become more like brothers and sisters and less like foreigners. Perhaps you’ll be invited to a family’s home for an exciting dinner of exotic flavors that are entirely new. Laughter shared reminds us of the unity of mankind. Without knowing, friends arrive into a waiting heart. Understanding, openness has changed everything. Likewise, when we approach Nature with these principles, a conversation begins. What are the hallmarks of Her personality? From my conversations, here is what really stands out. First, there is the most intense peace that a person could possibly experience. Secondly, there is the greatest knowledge available to us, all conveyed without out words. Complex situations like cause and effect fall away under the light of these greater truths. How can the paradox of life and spirit co-exist? Yet they do. And this gives us the greatest gift – the ability to see beyond our lives and bodies and experience reality as it really is, or as close as humanly possible. But we have to shut up to hear it.
All of Nature has the ability to talk with us and change our minds. But certain places are like concentrated versions of this connection. Pilgrimage is a hallmark of humanity, a difficult journey to a sacred place in order to get a feeling of the divine source of everything. Many go through great pains and hardship to just get a glimpse of reality. In some cases, pilgrims seek the holiest temples for their deliverance, places where the stone walks have been worn down by bare footfalls. But there are alternatives. Alongside the humanly constructed sacred sites, there has always been the temple of Nature. Buddha found truth not by pleasure or pain, but in silence under the shade of a tree.
From the mean streets of Chicago, Nature called me home. An insatiable craving began to take over me, in restless sleep or waking drudgery – come home! Calling, yelling, seducing me in the most hypnotic fashion. The voice continued to call me back to source, to the oldest forests on the planet. Fortified with the knowledge of tiny preserves of fragmented forest, I finally listened to the demands and headed out West. I wasn’t prepared for what was to come.
Two hours of intense traffic take the earnest pilgrim into the winding depths of the Old Cascade Mountains, a sacred land in Northwest Oregon. Here is a land far before recorded time, seemingly static compared to our madness in the so-called civilized streets. Shut of the engine, climb out of your metal box. Slam the door with a metallic thud, breathe the incense air of the mountains. Here, instantly you’re surrounded by the greatest peace possible, like the breach of a vacuum it rushes in to fill the void created by the now-silent machinery. All around, the trees have gathered like friends to welcome you home, and you can feel their life force pulsing.
Every natural place has the ability to call us home, but for me, nothing compares to the power of an ancient forest—and emerging research suggests that mature and old-growth forests may offer especially strong restorative experiences, even as researchers continue to study why. Imagine! Trees hundreds of years old, straining to reach the heavens over two hundred feet into the sky, maybe more. Their massive trunks seem immune to time, and in fact it would take six of you to surround a tree by holding hands. These are the places that can grant you the ultimate gift – peace and a sense of belonging. I first came to these forests broken and wounded. I didn’t come here for answers; maybe it was escape. But, like a salmon returning home to spawn and die, there wasn’t any choice. The wisdom of the place knew that my rough edges needed rounding like a rock-tumbler. The voice of the Wilderness understood that most of the old pain I carried was the result of not really understanding a bigger picture that lay before me. Here, two-thousand miles from the humble Midwest preserve I was finally home.
Like a kid in grade-school orchestra, it can take a while to understand how to read music and allow the trumpets to talk with the tuba. However, Nature will teach us everything if we can check our egos at the door. All of the examples needed are right in front of us, like the wisest gurus of India. We can only converse if we speak the same language. What is the language of Nature itself? You will have to listen to the voice of the wind as it sings to you though a million acres of firs. The anger of a chipmunk at a predator, chirping like an insane bird. For me, to stand upon a ridge top, silent in the sun and just absorbing all the experiences that bloom in the wilderness is the closest I can get to the source of all creation. How many trees fill the vast canyon below? They stretch out so far into the horizon that they fade into a treeless green tint, painted upon the mountainside. The forests, the heavens streaking above in their own infinity of jewels, all call us home to our true nature. IF we allow ourselves to be humbled by our own lack of importance, we may get a glimpse of what is real.
Not all of us are destined to be solitary monks seeking truth, or rugged mountain men eking out a survival in remote Alaska. Instead, we may have to find our peace in a different way. For those who support clients, students, or family members, a shared encounter with nature may offer its own form of co-regulation when it is safe, welcome, and accessible. That does not have to mean a remote hike: it might be an old-growth trail, a neighborhood park, a garden, a place beneath one tree, or even the recorded sounds of a forest. Begin by noticing together: What do you see, hear, smell, and feel? What, if anything, begins to shift?
For me, the mountains are always calling me home. Yes, modern life must go on. Ironically, I’m typing these thoughts of liberation on a computer, while sitting in a box of a room here in the city. However, because of the gifts available to all of us, I’m also connected to those sacred forests while I sit here working. Once you’ve heard the song and memorized the words it will stay with you forever. Who knows what truths may arise when you go to an old growth forest and quiet your mind? It may change you too. Grow like a seedling into the best possible You, nurtured by abundant sunshine and Grace itself. Can you be still enough to listen? Are you humble like a blade of grass? Perhaps the greatest truth of all lies just before your feet. How much time do you have left on this planet before old age claims your broken body? Maybe now is a good time to get some answers, while you still have breath. I encourage you to become your greater Self. I’ll meet you there under the wisdom of the branches, swaying to a music without notes.
Join Bob into the Wilderness
Watch Lost Trails PNW and read more of Bob Koscik’s writing to discover the stories the wilderness is ready to share with us.
What Does the Evidence Say?
A growing body of research connects time in natural environments with health, well-being, and psychological restoration. One field experiment comparing four forest environments found the strongest restorative experiences in mature and old-growth forests. Recent experimental research also found that listening to forest soundscapes supported mood, perceived restoration, and cognition—suggesting that some benefits of nature may remain available even when entering the wilderness is not possible.
Longman, Daniel P., Stephen C. Van Hedger, Kirsten McEwan, Eve Griffin, Courtney Hannon, Isabella Harvey, Taisei Kikuta, et al. “Forest Soundscapes Improve Mood, Restoration and Cognition, but Not Physiological Stress or Immunity, Relative to Industrial Soundscapes.” Scientific Reports 15 (2025): 33967. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-025-11469-x.
Simkin, Jenni, Ann Ojala, and Liisa Tyrväinen. “Restorative Effects of Mature and Young Commercial Forests, Pristine Old-Growth Forest and Urban Recreation Forest—A Field Experiment.” Urban Forestry & Urban Greening 48 (2020): 126567. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ufug.2019.126567.
White, Mathew P., Ian Alcock, James Grellier, Benedict W. Wheeler, Terry Hartig, Sara L. Warber, Angie Bone, Michael H. Depledge, and Lora E. Fleming. “Spending at Least 120 Minutes a Week in Nature Is Associated with Good Health and Wellbeing.” Scientific Reports 9 (2019): 7730. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-019-44097-3.
