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Nature’s medicine

Researchers and alumni highlight the benefits of connecting with the great outdoors
June 9, 2025
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By Kate Pettigrew, BA 22


Sophie looks at a tiny frog she holds in her hand. “We are all neurologically wired to connect with the natural world.” – Sophie Monkman

With one mittened hand cupped to her ear earlier this spring, Sophie Monkman, BA 14, listened to the faint creaking of the winter trees.

“We’re built to hear these landscapes,” she explained. “The red-winged blackbirds recently returned to the pond in [Montreal’s] Jarry Park. I walk here with my dog every day and was so heartened to hear them. It helps you feel rooted in a place and reassures you that the seasons are unfolding as they should.”

Monkman is a nature and forest therapy guide, drawn to the profession through her climate activism and driven by her own struggle with the mental-health impacts of living through climate catastrophe.

Her experience is part of a phenomenon termed “ecoanxiety,” a rising concern as people grapple with the ongoing environmental crisis.

This challenge has led Monkman, along with Concordia researchers and alumni, to explore evidence-based practices to improve mental health through deeper connections with nature.

“We’re all neurologically wired to connect with the natural world, regardless of our background, upbringing, society or the country we live in,” she says. “Culture plays a big role, but fundamentally, we feel our best in natural spaces.”

Healing in nature

Forest therapy has its roots in shirin-yoku, or “forest bathing,” a practice that emerged in Japan in response to urbanization during the tech boom of the 1980s. Unlike traditional Western psychology and talk therapy, it emphasizes somatic engagement with the natural world.

The health benefits of spending time in nature are well documented: Exposure to nature positively affects our mental health, cognitive functioning and, according to Monkman, even our immune systems.

“Forest environments can enhance our well-being in many ways, whether it’s through biodiversity or even phytoncides — organic compounds released by trees that can boost our immune systems and increase natural killer cells [a type of white blood cell],” she explains.

A forest therapy session with Monkman focuses on slowing down to cultivate “a particular quality of attention,” which can even be practised in urban landscapes. Through guided walks, she invites participants to engage their senses: noticing the feeling of wind on their skin, observing ice cracks underfoot or pausing to take in the scent of a pine tree in a park.

“It’s a simple practice, but the more we allow our nervous systems to bathe in it, the more we acclimate those modes of being,” says Monkman. “And the better we work those muscles, the more easily we can access them in any environment.”

Restoring connection

A portrait of Catherine Kineweskwêw Richardson. Catherine Kineweskwêw Richardson

While the practice of reconnecting with nature offers healing for many, for Indigenous communities, their relationship with the land has been disrupted in ways that continue to impact their health and well-being.

First Peoples Studies professor Catherine Kineweskwêw Richardson’s work highlights how colonial policies have caused these harms while emphasizing Indigenous resistance, resilience and healing.

According to Kineweskwêw Richardson, who teaches at Concordia’s School of Community and Public Affairs and is a member of the Métis Nation with Cree and Gwich’in roots, this divide is rooted in settler colonialism, which has particularly harmed the health and well-being of Indigenous peoples.

“In which pamphlets does it state that having one’s land stolen is bad for one’s health?” she asks.

“When you think of colonialism in northern Turtle Island or Canada, a lot of harm was done: taking people’s land away, taking their children away, putting children in the care of white, middle-class families and residential schools,” she says.

“They wanted the Earth, but also what was under it — and they still do.”

Kineweskwêw Richardson, who also serves as Concordia University Research Chair (CURC) in Indigenous Healing Knowledges, explains that this reality is often left out of contemporary discourses on the social determinants of health. Her book, Facing the Mountain: Indigenous Healing in the Shadow of Colonialism, investigates how land theft is linked to labelling Indigenous peoples’ responses — including resistance and survivance — as mental illness.

She says these labels justify state intervention and control, which compound negative health impacts for Indigenous peoples. Her research on response-based practice in healing professions examines how these health impacts emerge within broader historical and social contexts.

“I have a chapter about the radiation exposure from uranium mining in Canada’s north, particularly in the Northwest Territories,” she says. “My family experienced radiation poisoning that negatively affected children born in my family, including myself, leading to mobility issues and many surgeries. That’s the kind of thing that mining does.”

In her role as research chair, Richardson gathers Elders, Knowledge Keepers and youth from around the world to share and exchange knowledge.

“We host conferences where participants can exchange teachings, experiences and feelings. Then, the youth interview the Knowledge Keepers and publish academic papers together in a peer-reviewed journal.”

In an Indigenous worldview, she adds, humans have responsibilities to each other and the natural world in an infinite cycle of exchange and reciprocity. Protecting the natural environment is also a means of protecting human health, and vice versa.

“We’re here on this planet with the air, animals, birds, flowers, trees — all life forms. We’re all in a constant exchange and connection, whether that’s literally, energetically or metaphorically.”

Roots of resilience

Reclaiming land access is not just about environmental sustainability — it’s also about restoring cultural identity, community resilience and food sovereignty. This principle is at the heart of the Sankofa Farming Co-operative, which works to empower Black-Indigenous individuals through agriculture.

Restoring access to land, especially through agricultural practices, motivated Menelik Blackburn-Philip, BA 22, to co-found Sankofa on Loyola Campus in 2022. The student-run organic garden provides Black-Indigenous individuals with opportunities to grow their own food, drawing from traditional agricultural practices and learning from local Indigenous communities.

Menelik kneels in a garden next to a watering can while planting seedlings. “There’s joy, confidence and empowerment in sharing different practices and paradigms.” – Menelik Blackburn-Philip

The co-operative’s harvest supports Black-Indigenous communities in need. Blackburn-Philip also led a successful four-week breakfast program at Loyola, collaborating with campus groups such as the Concordia Food Coalition and the People’s Potato to provide meals for youth in the community.

“We spent time on the land, explaining the foods we grow and why we grow them,” they say. “We also talked about what the relationship to a plant could look like, depending on who you are and your cultural background.”

For Blackburn-Philip, time spent in the garden provides more than healthy, fresh food; it fosters community.

“It gives you your roots. There’s a sense of happiness, completion and alignment with why you’re here,” they say. “There’s joy, confidence and empowerment in sharing different practices and paradigms.”

He adds that the history of forced migration and agricultural labour has impacted many people in his communities, affecting access to traditional foods and their sense of belonging in a farming environment. The Sankofa project highlights resilience and survival of these communities by reconnecting people with the land and each other.

“It brings a lot of awareness to people — a reminder that we come from knowledgeable, intelligent, land-changing peoples. Some were brought here forcibly, yet were able to learn from the land in relation to Indigenous peoples and survived for hundreds of years.

“This nation-to-nation relationship connects us and allows us to share ancestral knowledge of seeds and techniques — and even discover commonalities.”

The next generation

A portrait of Isabelle standing in a bamboo forest. Isabelle Guillard

For high-school art teacher Isabelle Guillard, BFA 98, PhD 23, connecting youth with nature is essential. At Curé-Antoine-Labelle high school in Laval, her students have created an eco-art garden that features flower beds, a nursery with edible plants and a sculpture composed of willow arches.

Students from the school’s art, science and special-education classes participate in growing and learning about the plants, but the space also provides a refuge from a busy academic life.

“It’s nice to be outside the walls of the classroom,” says Guillard, a 2020 Concordia Public Scholar. “The garden is the only space at school to recuperate!”

Students work collaboratively with a team of teachers led by Guillard, a visual artist whose doctoral research at Concordia explored the value of outdoor education for teenagers.

While integrating the approach at the secondary level can be challenging, she is optimistic about the positive health impacts.

“Our kids need experiences that allow them to develop their creativity, express themselves and accomplish things on their own,” she says.

“By communicating and creating links with the people and environment around us, we develop confidence in ourselves and in our abilities, and we develop a sense of responsibility. It makes students aware of their impact.”

A headshot of Emma Despland. Emma Despland

Emma Despland, a professor in Concordia’s Department of Biology, has witnessed first-hand how early nature connectedness benefits young adults. She notes that many first-year students enter the program with a passion for conservation, yet are unable to identify common plants and trees in the real world.

“Students come in passionate about the natural world and species extinction, but a lot of their knowledge is theoretical. You take them outside and ask them to identify a tree, and they haven’t had that experience,” she says. “That limited understanding of biology affects their employment opportunities. It’s an education gap that we assume people are getting through childhood — but they’re not.”

In response, Despland and student researchers Ashley Spanier-Levasseur and Lindsay Doyle, BA 23, turned a study on nature connectedness into a community outreach project. Joining forces with city-run day camps, the Finding Urban Nature (F.U.N.) project unites Montreal youth with urban greenspaces. Many participants have never experienced nature walks or insect and fauna observation.

“We are bringing kids outside, showing them the urban gardening we’re doing on campus, inviting them to touch a tree, feed some birds,” Despland explains. “Many kids, especially those living in the city, have not had this experience.”

She highlights the invaluable physical, mental and social health benefits of outdoor activities for children and youth, though stresses that limited access to these opportunities can lead to serious repercussions.

“We are experiencing negative health impacts from an unnatural lifestyle that cuts us off from the natural world. The negative health effects related to being sedentary include mental-health issues and more,” says Despland. “From a developmental perspective, what people experience as children will influence their overall health later on.

“We cannot silo health — we are all connected.”



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