It happened to me once, and now I seek it as often as I need. I even have a tree friend—a special tree in a very special place in the forest. I visit it and immerse myself in its stability, its constancy, its strength. I never thought much about hugging a tree before that day. It was a dark night of the soul. One of those days when you dive into darkness, depression, and distress—when the worst feels possible because no one is there for you. No one answers the phone. No one can help. And you can’t reach anyone because you’re too lost in an immense, suffocating despair that paralyzes and overwhelms you. That day, as a last resort, I went walking in the forest. Unable to fight anymore, I was running—from myself, from everything. And then I stopped. I cried. I screamed. And I hugged a tree. I hugged it to anchor myself, to keep from collapsing to the ground, to feel something—anything. To find a shred of comfort, to not feel so alone. And then a miracle happened. The steadiness of the tree, its rough texture, its subtle swaying in the wind—all of it brought calm to me. My breathing slowed. My tears stopped. My emotions settled. I was reminded of life. Of eternity. Of the circle of life. I realized that this moment of distress was just that—a moment. I needed human connection, but no one was there at that time. Truthfully, I’m not sure I would have been able to face another person in that state. That day, I learned something profound: when everything feels hopeless, when emotions are overwhelming, when you’re alone with your misery—nature is still there. An eternal source of comfort.
Have you ever hugged a tree?
