There are eight of us here, down by the river. We are deep in the forest. Three giant redwood trees stand in a circle and act as our home base, a place for our fire; a place to talk about Nature and drink tea.

My co-facilitator and good friend Stephanie introduces the last exercise of our ecotherapy training weekend for the group. The group of six students will split into two and each trio will create a spiral on the earth, made entirely of natural objects. In this old woodland, which is chock full of deciduous trees and conifers alike, there is no shortage of materials: we can barely see the earth for the layers of sticks, leaves and discarded needles that soften the ground.

Stephanie tells the group that their spiral can be as large or small as they like. When they have completed it, each group member will then walk the spiral, whilst the others witness. When they reach the centre, they might like to make an offering to Nature, or leave something symbolic there that gives some personal closure to the retreat.

It’s surprising how quickly a group can bond during an ecotherapy weekend. Even two days spent in quiet contemplation with a group of strangers can create a sense of bonding that many feel sad to leave behind. Being quiet and attentive in Nature with a group of others is, sadly, a rare thing in our culture. An ecotherapy group is often invited to let go of the usual small talk and to explore what is actually happening around us, what other life is going on, right here, right now. The usual guards that people wear around strangers might be discarded as a group peacefully and quietly discovers the energy of another human, not through the usual chit chat but in recognising how they interact with the other-than-human. The spiral exercise is a way for the group to find closure to this experience, to honour whatever has arisen for them during the weekend.

In one group, there is a lot of laughter. It turns out that there is a joke running about two of the members marrying each other and the energy is playful. The other group, who are gathered inside a dark copse of ancient yews, are as quiet as mice. One woman walks the spiral slowly with something clutched in her arms; the other two witness her sacred walk from the outside, smiling warmly. She places her gathered items in the centre of the spiral, their meaning known only to her, yet placed with a delicacy that suggests a deep significance. As she walks slowly back out of the spiral, the sound of rapidly running river, just 50 foot away, screams louder than any road jammed with busy traffic. It’s as if the water in my blood runs in connection with the water as I listen, a visceral sense of being part of a larger, earthly body coming over me. The scent of conifer trees is sweet and strong and the leafy earth is soft against my bare feet. I watch the groups from the safety of the redwoods; a love for life rises into me as if through the earth itself, vibrating warmly through my skin, filling my chest, a gift from All That Is. The cold February Sun beams on my face through the treetops, mingling with the warmth of the fire I have created for us to gather around. I feel at home with the energy of our star.

When I used to pull the Waite-Smith version of the Five of Wands, I could see a clash taking place. Five people hold their wands in the air as if in combat, and perhaps in some readings it will indeed represent a mini war of some kind. On closer inspection, though, there isn’t really any force behind the movements of the people involved, and their faces are do not angry. This scene feels more like an experiment: five people trying to make something work, perhaps making it up as they go along.

This is often the way with ecotherapy groups. Even the facilitators have no idea what a tried and tested exercise will reveal in a new situation with a unique group (which every group is). There are so many contributors: the weather, the location, and most importantly the group members themselves, whose moods on the day and aspects of their life histories usually make themselves known. This is why we call it a ‘Triangular Relationship’ in the Ten Directions ecotherapy training model, which Buddhist Psychology informs. The facilitator, the client (or the group in this case) and Nature all contribute to the dynamic. Each exercise reveals different results when it is repeated, created by the unique recipe of the conditions of the moment.

Who knows what the people in the Five of Wands are trying to create together? But I have seen many creative ecotherapy groups that look just like this! The soft earth beneath them holds the space for their creativity. It strikes me now, too, that five wands can easily create a perfect pentacle – the symbol for the suit of coins in the Waite-Smith tradition, where each of the five points represent Water, Earth, Fire, Air and Consciousness (the five suits of the Tarot).

I imagine this group of people slowing down, putting their egos aside. They could create a pentacle together on that soft earth and step inside it, perhaps leaving an offering, just like our group members do in their spiral.

That’s all for now, friends. Thank you for being here – and please check out my Tarot Therapy Sessions if you’d like us to work together. You can also sign up for the Tarot Blog newsletter (different to my main newsletter) below to receive occasional email updates (roughly monthly) with the latest posts.

Smiles from Scotland,

Stephen