After a decade of activism that successfully got the UK government to ban plastic cutlery and polystyrene takeaway packaging, and supermarkets to ban plastic cotton buds, Natasha was, understandably, exhausted.
So in 2022, after moving to Clevedon, near Bristol, she started sitting under an oak tree behind her flat. Not some idyllic, remote oak - just a solitary tree on an urban hill surrounded by grassland. But it drew her attention.
During a period of burnout, she had a “slightly crazy idea”: meditate under the same tree every day for a year, starting on the winter solstice of 2023. The first few months were “heavy and bleak,” with plenty of rain, storms, and intense winds. She brought a square of sheepskin to sit on and sometimes a hot-water bottle. “Not much was happening under the tree,” she recalls, and she felt daunted by the prospect of a full year. But she stuck with it.
She’d spend the first 10 minutes sitting still and looking around, then close her eyes and meditate for 20 - 30 minutes, returning home to write notes and a poem. The winter poems, she says, were “quite introspective.”
Spring brought hope. When daffodils finally burst under the tree, it felt like a celebration - but after two weeks, they were gone. “They had been 50 weeks in the making; it filled me with awe at how transitory life can be,” she says. Then forget-me-nots arrived, and the barren grassland turned into a riot of life and colour. Buttercups appeared overnight; crickets began singing; one day she heard a new bird song and thought, “Ah, the swifts have arrived.” Sitting in stillness refined her senses. She returned home “glowing most days.”
By summer, the meadow seemed to be resting - but she wasn’t. She was still exhausting herself working, making music, and writing poems. She realised she needed to do what nature was doing: slow down. It took effort, but it was needed.
Under the tree, everything felt calmer. Her meditation was clearer. Once, she opened her eyes to see a deer in front of her - until a dog ran across and the deer took off.
Her mental and physical health improved. Backache vanished. Her sense of peace and awe skyrocketed. She experienced a happiness she hadn’t felt since childhood and rediscovered playfulness. Sitting with the oak also changed her perspective on time: she became more patient and trusting of natural timing.
On a late summer’s day, the swifts were unusually active - having a “screaming party.” The next day they were gone, as if announcing their departure. By autumn, winds picked up and leaves turned.
On her final day, the winter solstice of 2024, she took her guitar and sang thanks to the tree for offering sanctuary for a year. The challenge complete, she had newfound resilience - and was relieved to be able to travel and see family.
“Nature knows what you need, and is always ready to offer it - you just have to be quiet enough to receive it,” she says. She still visits the tree most days, though admittedly she tends to skip the rainy ones.