Where Water Heals: A Day of Stillness and Flow on the Trail

Theres something sacred about the sound of moving water. As a nurse, I spend much of my time responding to the rhythms of others... heartbeats, breath patterns, the soft shuffle of feet down hospital corridors. But out here deep in the woods of Indiana, i get to recalibrate. The only beeping is the hum of cicadas, and the only pulse i follow is the river's.

I started the hike early, the air still cool and heavy with summer morning mist. The first stop was a quiet stretch of water so still it looked like glass. A fallen tree leaned across the surface, mirrored perfectly below. Natures symmetry, untouched and unbothered. It reminded me how beautiful rest can be. Sometimes healing doesn't roar, sometimes its found in stillness.

As I moved farther into the woods, the terrain changed. The trail danced along carved limestone shelves etched by time and water. Here the river rushed with purpose, tumbling over ledges in a gentle cascade. It was the kind of sound you don't just hear, you feel it in your bones. Like a cleansing or deep tissue massage delivered by the earth itself.

I paused at a clearing where wildflowers stood tall, framing a view of a waterfall with just enough overgrowth to feel secret. The best moments in nursing and hiking are often the ones no one else sees. Quiet, raw, and real. I stood there for a long time, letting the green swallow me whole.

Later, I found a shelter. A graffiti tagged weathered structure tucked into the trees. It was unexpected, but welcomed. Much like the moments of grace that show up on the toughest shift. I sat at a picnic table, sipped some water, and read the messages from strangers written on the walls. Some were names, some dates, others just hearts or initials. Proof that we pass through places and they mark us.

The final stretch of the trail wound uphill to an overlook. From there, I saw it all; the layered stone, the dancing falls, the thick canopy stretching toward the sky. Reflected int he water below the clouds drifted slow and soft much like my thoughts.

The hike wasn't the longest or the hardest I've ever done, but it was medicine.

Out here, Im not just a nurse. I am a women walking toward peace. A hiker tracing the contours of my own healing. A witness to wild beauty that reminds me I don't have to fix everything, I just have to keep showing up.

Reflections from the Trail:

• Let still water remind you to rest.
• Let rushing falls remind you to let go.
• Let carved stone remind you to be patient.
• Let every step remind you that healing is a journey, not a destination.

Until next time, hearts and hiking boots

-The Nurse Hiker