Philadelphia Ecotherapy
Ecotherapy Artful Musings
A collection of creative pieces from the Philadelphia Ecotherapy Community
Paintings by Amy Stein, PhD
November Sunset with Killion (8 x 10", oil) is based on a memorable walk on a blustery late November day with my very beloved nephew, Killion, when he was six years old. Along the path in the park, he saw a fuzzy caterpillar. Killion gently picked him up from the path and carried him over to the grass. Once in the grass, Killion constructed a home for the caterpillar with grass clippings, a leaf for satellite TV (Gen Z kid), and an opening for a door. He dubbed him Fuzzy, because...why not? The painting is emblematic of that day."
Resurrection Bay by Amy Stein
"One by one, as if orchestrated, small gray heads emerged from the surface of the water like periscopes. Inquisitive eyes peered around nervously, sometimes fixating upon us for a few moments, before darting quickly beneath the surface of the water. Hundreds of seals lounged on chunks of ice, cautiously gazing at us as we kayaked carefully past them. Our paddles and boats crunched against miles of thick blocks of ice, until we bobbed smoothly again over open waters. Resurrection Bay Seal (8 x 10", oil) was inspired by a kayaking and camping trip in the Kenai Fjords of Alaska, an esoteric and remote region. It is a place that one cannot resist painting and striving to capture the light, the fleeting nature of the skies, the variety of colors and reflections present in the water, ranging from teal to viridian green to cobalt blue. The exquisite beauty of the glaciers boast varying mixtures of burnt umber, burnt sienna, and ultramarine blue.
"Nettle" by Anna Murphey, LCSW (2025)
Mixed Media, 5" x 7"
Nettle (or stinging nettle) has been used for centuries in traditional medicine for immune support, female reproductive support, reducing inflammation, and relieving allergies. Its leaves are highly nutritious and can be steamed or boiled and eaten, or dried and used for tea. Look for nettles in springtime in the Northern Hemisphere.
2, 82, and 22 Degrees Fahrenheit
Solèy, my two year old granddaughter, Dave, my 82 year old boyfriend, and the weather forecast promising a high of 22 degrees fahrenheit, converged in the same week to remind me of the value of holding on while letting go.
It was my two year old granddaughter’s first day of nursery school. I was instructed not to carry her, but simply let her walk in on her own. I held her hand. When curiosity overrode apprehension she let her hand slip from mine and into the open palm of Ms. Desiree, her teacher. Solely likes to sing, “Miss Desssserrrrr-aay!” in one long note that ends with a smile.
Dave left for a six-month stay out of the country. Again. Certainly we had the telephone and video, but I missed, as the song says, “the nearness” of him. How we seem to get even closer when we are apart baffles yet delights me. Forced to rely primarily on the voice, every word is spoken and heard with love. Well nearly every word. We’re truly pretty good at this. We practice.
And then there was the ecotherapy session planned a month before it was scheduled to occur. We were looking forward to spending time outside, but a weather forecast of 22 degrees and high winds made us rethink the wisdom of following through with our plan. We had a plan and an expectation for what this session could deliver. However, it wasn’t supposed to be an endurance test. We chose to hold on to the expectation and let go of the date. Our rescheduled session —- magical. A barely visible drizzle of intermittent rain danced on the surface of the creek. And sheltering branches of pine swayed around us as we sipped hot chocolate.
As ecotherapists, we practice the art of holding on while letting go each time we hold a session outside and leave behind the security that comes with the closed office door. We hold on to our skills and our knowledge and let go of the walled-office-comforts.
Sometimes engaging in an ecotherapy session is a lot like the first day of school. We need to gather our bearings. And we might feel like we’re in a long-distance relationship with our heating and cooling systems. However, an expansive community can be found in the school of forests. Even the relationship we have with ourselves deepens like the waters of a nearby creek. And unexpected benefits consistently present themselves in the play of sun and shadow of nature’s mysteries.
​