Studies have repeatedly shown that being near trees lowers our blood pressure, slows our heart rate and reduces stress hormones; the activity cuts down cortisol, the main chemical our body makes in times of stress. Trees release phytoncides and as we breathe these natural oils in, our body responds by relaxing.
For ages now, my ‘tree retreat’ has been Jakob Kudsk Steensen’s 2019 video Catharsis. This 12-minute digital simulation takes me for a curated ramble into an imaginary ancient forest, watching the trees and shrubs grow and shed, and grow again. There’s something soothing, calming, and therapeutic in watching the forest come alive in front of my marvelling gaze, fill with birdsong, calm down and become somnolent, turn by turn.
In synchronicity, I find my head emptying of chaotic thoughts, my heartbeats slowing to a reasonable beat, my chronic pessimism slowly waning, to be suffused by fresh hope. And that is the best kind of healing.
Catharsis works for me because I really-truly love trees. Trees give me an enormous sense of security and wellbeing. Trees are my emotional beyul (sacred sanctuary of sorts ) to which I retreat for a spot of rejuvenation, to clear my head, or perchance to dissect the properties of ‘dimagi Naxalism’.
While the beautiful cathedrals and temples I have visited over the years have become something of a blur, I can close my eyes and be immediately transported to Prague’s Letna Park with its gasp-inducing views of the Vltavariver down below. To Coonoor’s Sim’s Park where tree-walks are an exercise in learning as well as enjoyment. To Seville’s Alcázar Palace Gardens, looking at the naranjas ripening on the orange trees. To London’s arboreal tree trove, the Kew Gardens, there to admire its chestnut-leaved oaks. To my own city’s bountiful Lalbagh Garden and Cubbon Park.
It doesn’t take rocket science to figure out just why trees strike a special chord in some (most?) of us. There they stand, silent sentinels who seem to watch and observe everything around them, never once passing judgement. Apart from the physical benediction of shelter, shade and sometimes food through its leaves and fruit, trees offer emotional succour to those who would avail of it: they seem to immediately sootheus, have us realise we are in the presence of something that has been there years and years before us, teach us a lesson or two about rootedness and endurance juxtaposed with constant renewal.
Then there’s the religious resonance; we have bestowed trees like the peepal, banyan, neem, the olive, the cedar, the oak, the yew, with a sense of divinity and regard them as sacred places of comfort and healing.
However, my tree-love continues to take a savage beating. Apart from the very real climate change problem, as well as rampant tree-cutting for industrial purposes, a recent CAG audit of the Green India Mission has found that a scheme to ‘heal India’s forests’ has, across a decade, achieved virtually nothing. This then is the situation on the ground.
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