Last updated: April 21, 2023
Article
My Park Story: National Parks as Places of Healing
“Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature - the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter."
— Rachel Carson
“How [sniff] long do you have?” I managed to choke out through the onrush of tears. All while inexplicably contemplating the dead bugs and dirt that had accumulated in the windowsill next to me. That’s what I remember most about the day I found out my dad was dying. Dead bugs in the windowsill. It’s funny what sticks with you.
NPS / Janice Wei
Nothing can prepare you for that news. For me, it was devastating. Instead of asking questions or offering comfort, I broke down, could only choke out a few words between tears, and abruptly cut the conversation short—to sit and stare at dead bugs on the windowsill. While I felt guilty about my initial reaction, throughout this journey I learned one very important lesson: It’s okay to be not okay. As painful as it may seem, fully feeling that raw emotion is important. Just like with everything in this world, it won’t last forever, so don’t be afraid to let it in.
While processing the initial news was hard on me, I found solace in nature. My (now) husband and I were living on Hawai’i Island at the time, working at Puʻuhonua o Hōnaunau National Historical Park on the west side of the island. Since my family was over 3,000 miles away on the mainland and my husband was at a training in Hawaiʻi Volcanoes National Park when I got the news, I knew I had to get out of the empty house, away from cell signal and the internet, and into the comforting embrace of the natural world.
The next day I jumped in my little red Bug and drove the two hours to the other side of the island to Hawaiʻi Volcanoes National Park. There, among some of nature’s most powerful metaphors of destruction, rebirth, and the constant cycles of nature, I began to process the news. I contemplated life and death as I looked out over the vast Pacific Ocean, I found quiet comfort among the songs forest birds, I pulled over to cry and then got back on the road. Grasping at anything for possible relief.
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Forest Bird Song in Hawaii Volcanoes National Park
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Forest Bird Song in Hawaii Volcanoes National Park
That night, when sleep once again evaded me, I drove the short distance up to the Kīlauea overlook. The glow of the lava added to the dream-like feeling of the last few days. As I stared into the tumultuous lava lake below, overcome with the power and awe of the natural world, my anger, my fear, my grief, came pouring out. I had finally found what I had needed. Instead of trying to fix what I was going through, to find that relief, I just let myself feel.
Raw with the outpouring of emotion, I slowly began to make my way back to my car. As I walked, I looked up at the brilliant night sky. Covered in that blanket of stars, comforted by the still night around me, I felt my first tiny glimmer of peace. The juxtaposition of the chaotic, violent churning of the lava lake and the serenity of a quiet night helped put things in perspective. Both can exist simultaneously, both are important to experience, but its where you focus your energy that matters. Calm can exist within chaos. Peace within grief.
NPS / Janice Wei
From that moment, we had three good years with my dad before he passed away in 2021. While he was still able, he made the long journey from the mainland to the Big Island for a visit. We made a special trip over to Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park where I was able to share some of the same places that had brought me solace a year before. Immersed in awe of the natural world, seeing the cycles of nature right before our eyes, we were able to find peace together. Experiencing awe in nature has a way of breaking down barriers and allowing for deep connection with ourselves, each other, and the natural world.
Our national parks are places where we can experience awe and inspiration. They are places that can change our perspectives and strengthen our relationships. They are also places of healing, of comfort, and of relief from our chaotic worlds. Places to grow and places to feel. They are as much a part of our stories as we are to theirs.
About the Author
Tyler Walsh (Chisholm) has been working for the National Park Service since 2014 in diverse ecosystems like the North Cascades and the Big Island. She currently works as a Visual Information Specialist for the Natural Resource Stewardship and Science Directorate. Her dad, Carey Chisholm, was an avid supporter of public lands and spent his life adventuring, exploring, and capturing nature’s wonder in his photography. His love of the natural world and drive to know what’s around the next corner inspired Tyler to dedicate her career to service to public lands. Carey passed away in 2021 after a three-year battle with lung cancer. Portions of this essay appeared in his photo essay, The Dying Process: A Celebration of LIfe in which he (and his family) tells the story of his journey in the hopes of helping others who receive a similar terminal diagnosis.