Category Archives: Nature Therapy

The Sea That Heals Me

Horizons (Monaco, France) – Photograph by Kirsten Nehr

by Kirstin Nehr, May 2025.

In this moving reflection, this month’s contributor, Kirsten Nehr, shares her lifelong connection to the sea and the healing it has offered through life’s many tides. From childhood memories of ocean heroines to scuba diving in Indonesia and quiet moments in a Mediterranean cove, Kirsten explores how the sea has soothed heartbreak, supported transitions, and offered a sanctuary for emotional grounding. A beautiful meditation on nature, identity, and resilience—this piece invites us to reflect on where we go to remember who we are.

The sea has always been part of me—woven into the fabric of my life for as long as I can remember. If I pause to trace this love to its origin, it brings me back to a childhood memory: I must have been five when I regularly watched a television show called Oceania, where a woman lived on an island and could hear the cries of whales in distress. Without hesitation, she would dive into the ocean and swim out to save them, gliding through the water at their side. Sadly, it’s hard to find any YouTube videos of the show, but I can still picture the scenes vividly.

To me, she was a hero—strong, graceful, fearless, and deeply connected to nature. Whist I also admired the Disney movie character Pocahontas, another iconic figure attuned to the earth, Oceania was the one who captured my heart. She made me believe that the sea was a place of purpose, where courage and compassion met with the wild beauty of the world.

Born in August, the Mediterranean summers have always been the highlight of my year. Long, golden days spent on the beach with salt in my hair, the sun on my skin, and the sea gently calling. I loved to swim underwater, holding my breath as long as I could, pushing myself to go deeper, longer. Eventually, those games turned into hobby—scuba diving became second nature to me as soon as I was old enough. At 14, I began my underwater journey, and later at university, I specialized in marine biology, spending three unforgettable months in Indonesia studying coral health.

The sea is more than a place. It is a feeling. It is home. A sanctuary that has held and healed me at life’s crossroads—through first heartaches, career transitions, and moments when I needed to remember who I truly am. A walk along the sea never fails to bring me back to centre.

Oddly, this affinity doesn’t necessarily come from my family; it feels like something intrinsic, inexplicable. Maybe some things aren’t meant to be rationalised. When I scuba-dive or swim beneath the surface, I enter a realm of peace—a quiet meditation where time fades, and I exist only in rhythm with the waves. Down there, nobody can reach you. Nobody can bother you. Nobody can cross your boundaries. It’s just you, the soft sound of bubbles brushing your cheeks, and the graceful movements of fish living their lives. I could float for hours, feeling full of infinite curiosity, watching the coral breathe and dance with colour. Sometimes I joke that I must have been a fish in another life.

Though I adore all bodies of water, the Mediterranean Sea is my soul’s true home. There is something so special and familiar in its deep blues, its gentle safety, that instantly soothes me. I found a hidden cove during the stillness of the COVID years—where France meets Italy, and time seems to pause. There, you can slip into the sea from the rocks where the water immediately envelops your body like a protective blanket with France on your right and Italy on your left. The water is clear, sacred. I would float like a starfish, arms wide, ears submerged in the muffled sound of waves, sky stretched endlessly above me. It became a place of dreaming, of healing, of imagining all that could be in the midst of the uncertainty that the world had just been plunged into. I still return every year to find renewed inspiration.

Now, sitting in my London home, I feel the pull again—that gentle (and daily) ache for the sea. I dream that one day, I’ll wake to the sight of the Mediterranean sea outside my window. It will be the gift I give myself: a return to the source. The sea, with its quiet strength, will always be there, ready to hold me with its healing power.

Tides of Healing: The Sea as Sanctuary

Cornish Caribbean Sea (Mexico Towans, St Ives Bay) – Photograph by Lara Just

by Lara Just, May 2025.

If the sea has been calling you lately, you’re not alone. In this latest blog post, I reflect on the connection between water and well-being, and share why I’m offering more coastal walk-and-talk therapy here in Cornwall. This season, we’re exploring the healing powers of the sea—through new films like David Attenborough’s Ocean, the upcoming UN Ocean Conference, and stories like The Salt Path and My Octopus Teacher. Living by the Cornish coast reminds me daily of how the ocean restores us—body, mind, and soul…

As the sun lingers longer and the days stretch into summer, many of us feel drawn to the coast—not just for leisure, but for something deeper. Living and working by the ocean in Hayle, Cornwall, I witness daily how the rhythms of the sea mirror our own: sometimes still, sometimes turbulent, always in motion. And in that motion, something shifts in us too.

This season, the ocean is at the heart of global conversations. David Attenborough’s powerful new film Ocean, released alongside his 99th birthday, reminds us that our seas are not only breathtaking but vital. Filmed over four years and shown on screens this May, the documentary delivers a dual message: that ocean destruction is real—but so is its resilience. If we give it space to heal, it can recover rapidly. It’s a hopeful message at a critical time, with the UN Ocean Conference in Nice (France) approaching on June 13.

For those of us who live by the coast, the healing power of water isn’t just theory—it’s daily life. From wild swims to wind-whipped walks along the coastal path, the ocean invites a kind of presence that stills the mind and softens the heart. It’s no wonder that time by the sea is now being recognised not just for physical well-being, but for mental and emotional restoration too.

One of the most moving portrayals of this connection is the film My Octopus Teacher (Netflix), where a filmmaker builds a profound bond with an octopus in a South African kelp forest. It’s a poetic reminder of how deep the conversation between humans and nature can go, when we’re willing to slow down and listen.

Closer to home, the upcoming film adaptation of The Salt Path—based on Raynor Winn’s bestselling memoir—tells the true story of walking 600 miles of the South West Coast Path, a journey sparked by illness and homelessness, but transformed by resilience, nature, and the healing landscape of the sea. It was a path not only to recovery but to reconnection—with self, with place, with possibility.

As an outdoor therapist, I’ve witnessed this first-hand. Walk-and-talk sessions by the coast offer something special—an unspoken support from the elements, a holding presence in the waves and wind. Whether it’s dipping your toes into cold sea water or simply standing still to breathe in the salt air, the invitation is always there: to come back to yourself.

As summer begins to unfold, may we walk lightly along these paths, honour the waters that hold us, and remember that healing, like the tide, is always within reach.