What's in Motion

January 2026

What's in Motion: An Invitation to Notice

It’s a question I offer early on during my guided forest therapy walks: What’s in motion? It may seem simple at first—something to observe in the trees or on the trail. A branch swaying. A bird taking flight. A squirrel darting across the forest floor. The surface of a puddle responding to the breeze. But this question is more than just a cue to look around. It’s an invitation to slow down. To drop beneath the surface. To begin tuning in—not just to the natural world, but to the subtle, often unnoticed movements within and around us.

In the forest, What’s in motion? becomes a way of engaging our senses. It invites us into relationship—with wind, water, breath, body, memory, emotion. And in my experience, it often leads to a quiet shift. The outer noticing gives way to inner noticing. People begin to soften. To feel. To remember their belonging. As I reflect on this invitation at the turning of seasons or in the midst of personal transition, I find it continues to offer meaning beyond the trail.

What’s in motion in my life right now? What thoughts keep circling? What is shifting in my work, my relationships, my body? What am I being nudged toward—or away from? Some movements are subtle—like the slow return of energy after a hard season, or the tiny sprout of a new idea forming beneath the surface. Others are more obvious—a big life change, the pull toward a decision, a wave of emotion asking to be felt. Whatever form it takes, motion is always present. But we don’t always pause long enough to notice.

This blog series, What’s in Motion, is an offering—a place to share what I’m noticing in nature, in my practice, and in the ever-shifting rhythms of life. It’s a gentle reminder (to myself as much as to anyone reading) to slow down, breathe, and listen for what’s quietly moving. I invite you to pause and to ask yourself the same question: What’s in motion for you right now? Not to analyze or fix—but simply to notice.

Here’s to being in conversation—with nature, with ourselves, with one another, and with the ongoing motion of life.

With warmth and wonder,

Kristen