Rooted in Connection: Healing with Trees Across Place and Time

There’s a kind of wisdom that lives in trees—steady, ancient, and freely offered to anyone willing to slow down, connect, and listen.

Wherever you go in the world, the trees are different, but the invitation is the same: Be still. Come closer. You belong.

You too can be rooted in this ancient connection. Allowing yourself to be one with the trees who have lived across many places and times. You are healing along with the trees.

I felt this in a rainbow eucalyptus grove on Maui, where trunks shimmer in shades of lavender, teal, coral, and rust. Standing among these colorful trees felt like being inside a living watercolor. Their bark peels away in ribbons, as if they’re always in a process of becoming, shedding what’s no longer needed. Isn’t that what we’re all trying to do?

Rainbow Eucalyptus

On San Juan Island, the madrones twist and lean like old dancers, their smooth red bark warm to the touch. They often grow in tangled groups near the edge of cliffs, rooted in what looks impossible. And yet, they thrive. They remind me that beauty can come from adaptation—that even when things don’t look “stable,” there’s strength in being flexible.

The giant sequoias of Northern California humble you into silence. There’s no pretending to be bigger than your problems when you stand beside something that has survived for thousands of years. Just breathing among them is a kind of therapy. They don't move, they don't rush, and still—they grow.

Sequoias

In Oregon, the Douglas firs rise like columns of a vast cathedral. Their scent—sharp, earthy, grounding—brings me right into my body. And in the South, I’ve walked under the wide arms of live oaks in Louisiana and North Carolina, their limbs draped in moss like wisdom passed down. They seem to say: “Rest here. You’re held.”

Douglas Fir

Trees have taught me presence.

Live Oak Trees

Sometimes I sit with my back against one and imagine its roots mingling with mine, drawing up stability from the ground. Other times I just walk slowly through a grove, letting the quiet rearrange me. These moments don’t offer quick fixes. But they offer something else: the deep, slow rhythm of the earth. The reminder that healing isn’t a destination—it’s a cycle. Growth, rest, shedding, renewal.

Wherever you are, there’s a tree nearby waiting to share space with you.

Try this

Find a tree that draws your attention.

Sit beneath it, or rest your hand on its bark.

Breathe.

Listen.

Let it show you something you didn’t know you were missing.

You are not alone.

Not in your pain, not in your healing.

You are part of something rooted and vast.

With you in the quiet,

Rachel Richards, LMHC

Four Winds Therapy

📷 All photos taken from my recent wanderings. See more tree reflections on Instagram @fourwindstherapy_