I’m visiting friends in Norway and have been enjoying some solo time in Trondheim the past few days before continuing on to Oslo tomorrow. The most impactful day of my trip thus far was Saturday when I visited the Ringve Botanic Garden.

As I meandered through the beauty of the garden, I was reminded of my post entitled “Both Hands” a few months back. In it, I spoke of how I’m better able to take in beauty when I contribute both of my hands to the exploration and wonder of what is set before me.

So instead of standing in awe of the beauty that surrounded me in the garden, I began to touch the plants and the trees and the leaves and the flowers and to study more intently the intricate details of each as I held it in my hands. And a magical thing happened– I felt its beauty run through me. My experience of it was not limited to my eyes but widened and broadened by my touch.

The beauty before me came alive in a way I hadn’t experienced before. It reached into parts of me that hadn’t been touched in a long time, and it somehow healed those parts of me without my request. Simply magical, spellbinding, enchanting, breathtaking. And it only required my gentle, loving touch– better yet, my kind embrace– to feel its effect. Who knew it was there for the taking all this time? Who knew it could heal me so?

And I feel that somehow I, too, healed each thing I encountered by way of my touch. I reminded each leaf of its beauty, each petal of its grandeur. I expressed my personal admiration and gratitude– not from a distance, not by my words, not by my gaze but by my touch. And I imagine each was freed somehow by my affection.

Such beauty ought to be touched! It ought to be felt. But I fear nature is rarely encountered this way and I can feel its loneliness. I find a kindred experience of my own in that. I know what it feels like to be left untouched, and I know how deeply my heart yearns for it– not simply to be touched in passing or admired from afar but to be known and held fondly and truly.

I imagine the trees and plants I touch feel the same way, too. And so it gives me great pleasure to satisfy nature’s yearning in a kind and gentle way, if only for a moment. I imagine it gives great relief– a relief that can be felt after the touch has ended. I imagine this because I know it to be my experience. Nature’s kind touch still lingers in me now, days later. And for that, I am grateful.