22: wilderness immersion: exploring the lifeworld from within the wild
- thompson (tbird) bishop
- Jul 4
- 6 min read
I unhook the two dirty bags from the tree, let Colleen know I'm going to get water, and turn west to begin my short 300-yard walk to a small, snow-melt creek we passed just an hour ago on the last segment of trail before we stopped to setup camp. Winding down the overgrown game trail, legs brushed and scratched constantly by the verdancy of this high elevation meadow, a sheer, near-pyramidal cliff mirrors my upright stance, shedding the high snowpack as multiple waterfalls and runnels descend and become that which, shortly and about a mile from their genesis, I will dip my stage 1 water bladders into–-a refreshing and critical aspect of this wilderness immersion. The sheer mass of the escarpment bequeaths me both the reality of my size and the essence of my impermanence, in equal parts. The awe is humbling and energizing.

As I make my way back up to camp, 10 liters of crystalline water in hand, the smoke-hazed sunset begins to cast an amber light upon this west facing verticality, light caught on the three-thousand foot face of the mountain in this Ruby Range of Colorado.
I love it out here. Miles from any vehicle, and hours from any town, where "chop wood, carry water" is both literal and magical.
Wilderness immersive experiences such as these have a way of re-foregrounding the body and embodiment. In so doing, the sensuality of existence is reawakened, and that expanded sense of awareness begins to innately include the more-than-humyn lifeworld all around. For example, when standing on a glacial moraine at the valley floor, the silt-blued lake shimmering cold, mountains ascending vertically on both sides while rain and snow fall mixedly, even the slight turning of one's head can alter one's awareness and experience—immediately illustrative of the embodied dynamism of natural environments (Løvoll et al., 2020).

Yet, this is not always an easy process. Rain, snow, uneven trails, heavy packs, and simple foods are just a few of the complimentary and challenging elements. Animals, snakes, biting insects, and a largely shelter-free existence make dangers real and evident, and require a concerted, ongoing discussion about risk management.
Nevertheless, along with the awe-inspiring way nature seems to reorient our psyches and values, there is a growing body of empirical literature which shows that time in nature is very beneficial for humans. Such literature is at the heart of somatic ecopsychology, and attending to and bolstering that literature is the focus of my current dissertation in research psychology.
A wilderness immersion can be defined as spending intentional time (often multiple days and nights) fully surrounded by a wild, untrammeled, natural place. Refinements and explorations of such a definition might be seen on a spectrum: from the simplicity of camping in the backyard (where the amenities of modernity are a few footsteps away) to a multi-week backpacking expedition (where the only supplies you have are on your back and the nearest bathroom, hospital, and grocery market is days or weeks away). One is not better than the other, and all have their own tradeoffs.
There can be some terminological confusion here. If we look at a parking lot, shopping mall, or the center of a huge urban area as being the built world (the non-wilderness world), and the middle of Antarctica as being wilderness (wild earth, not built), what the phrase wilderness immersive experience is referring to are areas which trend toward wilder, less impacted, less built places.
Of course, the entire Earth is nature, yet some areas are far more impacted than others by humyn exploitation and use. Wilderness, on the other hand, is a subcategory of nature which refers to a place that is mostly free from exploitation by humyn culture, where life is at its most dynamic, creative, fecund, and biodiverse (Crist, 2019, p. 114). In the United States, the Wilderness Act of 1964 defines wilderness as “an area where the earth and its community of life are untrammeled by man, where man himself is a visitor who does not remain” (p. 2). [The andro-centric (male-centered) and anthropocentric (human-centered) aspects of that definition are immediately problematic but beyond the scope of this blog (Gaard, 1997)].

The immersion aspect of our term, while perhaps self-evident, refers not just to putting ourselves within wilder surrounds but also an intention of setting aside the everyday devices and distractions of the always online existence of our modern lives. We do not simply move our lives into the wilderness, but we invite and open to allowing the wilderness to move within us. Immersion becomes a bidirectional way of being.
The key referent from a wilderness immersive experience, then, is less about the term itself and more about the changes in ways of being which transpire from living close to the land, the hum of insects, soft whisper of nearby creeks, and swaying of trees.
Alchemy of Prana offers both car-camping-esk immersions as well as backpacking immersive experiences. However, these wilderness environments (the 'land') are not simply the context and surroundings. The wilderness–-with all her more-than-humyns, her cliffs and rocks, her trees and birdsong, her mysterious runnels of snowmelt and vast vertical horizons of mountain–-is that which initiates.
Ergo, we do not simply go to the land because it is healthy and beneficial for humans, what Buzzell (2016) called a Level 1 ecotherapy (a human-centric ecotherapy), even though this is certainly true and beneficial. Nor do we go to the land as refuge and retreat from modernity, though that is important too.

Rather, we go to the wilds as a way of reinviting an earth-based way of knowing to (re)inform and co-creatively foster ceremony with us so that our healing can be inextricably linked with the Earth's healing, and vice versa. This is a critical praxis and foundation for ecopsychology, as well as for Alchemy of Prana.
And then we return, ready to embody and carry our gifts to our home communities, humyn and more-than-humyn.
Recent scholarship examined phases of a wilderness immersive experience (Basil, 2023). Such phases also mirror and exaggerate what is happening within the rite of passage as well. For example, early on in a wilderness immersion much focus is on logistics, learning to live with the elements and the landscape, and tending to the physical plane. In the middle, there is often a shift toward really being there. This is the critical time within a rite of passage, where the initiate/quester is on the land, empty, alone, and exposed, and enacting their self-generated ceremonies. Then there is the return and final phase, where thoughts begin to shift toward all the excitements and fears of returning home, the necessities and baggage which need arranging, physically as well as metaphysically, and the sharing of the story and gifts received from time on the land. This is the incorporation phase, and in almost all instances, this is where the work really begins.

Walking back into camp, I am awestruck by the sun dipping behind Marcelina in the west. I carry the 25 pounds of water over to the tree, hook each dirty bag to it's associated filter, line, and clean bag, and then walk over to Colleen to enjoy the sunset together. She is making pumpkin soup while the about-to-be-initiated adolescents wander about camp and get to know one another. Bird song permeates this high Aspen forest, wildflowers color the spring land underfoot, and in my heart I feel the deep warmth of knowing my intrinsic belonging to this sacred lifeworld.
In gratitude, tbird
[The vignette if from Alchemy of Prana's recent Waking the Soulfire Teen Quest.]
References

Basil, M. D. (2023). Understanding people's motivations for a long-distance hiking trip. Leisure Studies, 42(2), 282–295. https://doi.org/10.1080/02614367.2022.2115108
Buzzell, L. (2016). The many ecotherapies. In M. Jordan, & J. Hinds, Ecotherapy: Theory, research, & Practice (pp. 70–82). Palgrave.
Crist, E. (2019). Abundant earth: Toward an ecological civilization. The University of Chicago Press.
Gaard, G. (1997). Ecofeminism and wilderness. Environmental Ethics, 19, 5–24. https://doi.org/10.5840/enviroethics199719136
Løvoll, H.S., Sæther, K-W. and Graves, M. (2020). Feeling at home in the wilderness: Environmental conditions, well-being and aesthetic experience. Frontiers in Psychology, 11: Article 402. https://www.doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2020.00402
The Wilderness Society. (n.d.). The Wilderness Act. https://www.wilderness.org/articles/article/wilderness-act
Wilderness Act, 16 U.S.C. § 1131-1136 (1964). https://www.fs.usda.gov/Internet/FSE_DOCUMENTS/fseprd645666.pdf
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