I didn’t set out to become a tree hugger, but the beech trees had other plans.
I’m not hugging a beech tree in this photograph but another kind giant of which I do not know its species :-/ (c) Françoise Vaal
This morning, I went back to a forest of beeches, smooth-barked giants that feel like old friends who’ve been waiting patiently while I ran around living a noisy, distracted life. Standing among them again, it was like walking into a reunion: no small talk, no awkward pauses, just an unspoken welcome.
There’s a comfort in these woods that’s hard to put into words. The beeches don’t judge, don’t hurry, don’t ask for anything. They just are. And being with them, I remember that maybe that’s enough for me too.
Confession: I Once Wrote a Guide to Hugging Trees
Some years back, I wrote a blog post called “Become a Serious Tree Hugger in 7 Steps.” Yes, I realize how that sounds—woo-woo, a little out there. Breathing with trees? Asking their permission? It’s the kind of thing that makes skeptics roll their eyes.
And yet, that post ended up reaching tens of thousands of readers. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who felt there might be something more going on between us and the trees. People recognized themselves in it, or at least felt a tug of curiosity.
The gist of it:
Go outside. (Yes, you have to leave the Wi-Fi.)
Pick a tree that attracts you, its bark, its shape, or simply its presence.
Stand beside it, and silently ask permission to connect. If it feels wrong, try another tree (this is very important!)
Hold your breath until you really need to inhale, then touch the tree.
Breathe calmly while keeping that connection.
Release, repeat, and give it at least ten minutes. Remember: your carbon dioxide becomes the tree’s food; the tree’s oxygen becomes your lifeline. You are connected.
Notice what’s shifted. Do you feel calmer, more grounded, maybe even oddly grateful?
If you end up hugging the tree, well, congratulations. You’re a tree hugger!
Back to the Beech Woods
Today, standing in front of a tall beech, I put my own old advice to the test. I held my breath, placed my hand on the cool, smooth bark, and fell into that rhythm: release, inhale, touch, repeat.
Somewhere in those minutes, the noise in my head softened. My chest felt lighter. The tree didn’t laugh at me or roll its eyes, it just stood there, solid and silent, exactly as it always has. And in its steadiness, I found my own.
When I first wrote that blog, I thought it was just a playful experiment. A little woo-woo exercise in connecting with nature. But the fact that it struck a chord with so many people tells me there’s real truth in it.
The trees don’t care if you feel silly. They don’t care if you call it “tree hugging” or just “breathing in the woods.” They just keep offering oxygen, stillness, and perspective. And all we have to do is show up, breathe with them, and let ourselves remember what it means to belong.
🍃 If you were to hug a tree, which one would it be—and would you admit it publicly?
I’m Françoise. I started out as a photo editor at Dutch national newspapers, until a persistent pull led me into marriage counseling. In my practice, I found most people didn’t need more words, they needed the grounding of nature. So I let the outdoors do half the work, and it did a better job than any theory.
After a decade of guiding others, my own creative voice grew too loud to ignore. I left the therapy chair and returned to art. Now I work with photography, paint, and mixed media to explore wild, desolate landscapes—the kind that remind us we’re tiny, but inseparable from the world around us. My goal isn’t just to show beauty, but to evoke belonging. A place where the body leads, and the mind, for once, can take the back seat.