REwilding doctors
How Coaching in Nature Helps us Ground, Connect, and Restore
In the quiet hush beneath the canopy of trees, something ancient stirs within us.
A knowing, a remembering. For doctors, so often caught in the sterile hum of hospital corridors and the relentless pace of clinical demand, this return to nature can feel like a long exhale after years of holding breath.
As a former doctor, I know how easy it is to become stuck in that place. For years, I moved at a pace that felt impossible to question. My identity became wrapped in the needs of others - patients, colleagues, systems, expectations. Yes, there was purpose, but also a growing disconnection from my own body, my own rhythm, my own sense of joy.
It wasn’t until I stepped outside - quite literally - that I began to find my way back.
Out in the woods, away from fluorescent lights and overflowing inboxes, something quiet yet profound happened.
There was a shift. A settling. As if my body remembered - ah, yes, this is where I can breathe again.
For many doctors, myself included, life can become tightly scheduled, high-pressured, and constantly tuned to the needs of others. It’s a privileged and rewarding path, but often a costly one. What I’ve found, time and again, is that stepping into nature, even for a short while, offers something both simple and profound: the chance to come back to yourself.
This is where coaching in nature finds its magic.
There’s no agenda imposed by the trees. The pace slows. Shoulders lower. Thoughts flow, the conversation opens. Sometimes shoes come off. Often silence does more than words. And, in that space, something shifts, not dramatically, but deeply. People speak of feeling more grounded, more connected. Not just to the earth beneath their feet, but to their own thoughts, values, and hopes that might have been buried beneath the day-to-day. Nature seems to create the kind of space where those things can rise gently to the surface.
It’s not about fixing or solving. It’s about noticing. Listening. Allowing. A winding stream might mirror a tangled thought. A sudden birdcall can jolt a new idea awake. Even the act of walking, step, by step, by step - becomes a rhythm for reflection.
“Rewilding” might sound dramatic, but at heart, it’s a return. A reconnection with the natural world, and with the parts of ourselves that thrive on quietness, movement and meaning. It’s not necessarily about escaping medicine, but finding a way to practice it with more aliveness, more ease. When doctors feel personally resourced and restored, it ripples outward. Into their teams. Their patients. Their families. Not perfectly. Not all at once. But gently, steadily.
Nature doesn’t demand perfection. It invites presence.
And sometimes, that’s exactly what we need. What I needed. The forest became my co-coach. Birds, my quiet companions. Slowly, I began to feel not just relief, but renewal. It wasn’t an escape from medicine, but a return to something deeper. A remembering of why I had chosen this path in the first place. This is the heart of Earth and Bloom and the purpose of my work now, enabling doctors to reconnect to their own inner landscape, through the natural one.
When I coach in nature, it’s not about performance or perfection. It’s about presence. The kind that gets covered up in clinics and calendars. The kind that listens, not only to others, but inward too. And when that space is created, gently, respectfully, doctors begin to notice things. What matters? What’s missing? What’s calling for change? It might not look much from the outside. A conversation under a tree. A breath taken beside a river. But the impact is quietly powerful.
This process isn't about becoming someone new. It’s about returning to who you were before the noise. And from there, finding a more grounded, flourishing way forward. It speaks to mending what’s been stripped away by sterile corridors and relentless schedules… a return to rhythm, breath, soil, and soul.