Old Growth and New Growth

a pilgrimage to the coastal redwoods

Arcata Community Forest. Photo by yours truly.

This week, Chelsea and I are visiting Arcata, California, a town where I lived for six years.

Arcata is way up on the north coast of California, nestled between the redwood forest and the Pacific ocean, a haven for free spirits, wanderers, and misfits. Aside from being home to Cal Poly Humboldt, it’s probably best known for growing cannabis. Most Californians have never been here.

It’s been 20 years this August since I first moved up here to start my freshman year at the university. At the time, I was free-spirited wanderer and misfit, too. And on a road trip with my dad to visit universities up and down California, I fell in love with the redwood forest.

The coastal redwoods (Sequoia sempervirens) include the tallest living trees on Earth, reaching up to 115 meters (380 feet). They’re also some of the oldest living organisms on Earth, with some living over 2000 years. Redwoods grow as far south as Big Sur, but they truly flourish here, in Humboldt County.

Since the 1800s, the redwoods have been endangered by logging. But when you walk in the forest, you see that death is part of the life cycle. Young trees sprout from the stumps of giants that were cut down a hundred years ago. Fallen logs serve as nourishment for new life. And underground, the trees are connected at their roots, constantly exchanging information and energy. We could learn a lot from these ancient beings about how to survive on planet Earth.

I gravitated toward the Religious Studies department at the college, taking classes on Buddhism, Hinduism, and the psychology of religion. It was a weird choice to make at 18 years old. When I told people I was doing Religious Studies, they usually assumed I was studying to be a pastor. The reality was that the RS major was chock full of mystics who were into meditation, yoga, and psychedelics, among a plethora of other quirky interests. In hindsight, it was much better preparation for becoming a therapist than majoring in psychology would have been—undergrad psychology classes are dry as dirt.

I came to Arcata for college, but I stayed here for six years because of the community I found. After growing up in relatively conservative San Diego, it was the first place I felt I could be myself and be accepted, liked, and even respected for who I was. Some of the fellow mystics I met in the RS department have become lifelong friends.

Since I moved away, I’ve come back to visit many times. But this time, I get to see it again for the first time through Chelsea’s eyes. We’ve wondered together at how tall the redwoods are, how vibrant the flowers that grow in people’s yards, how nice the local natural grocery store is. It makes me so happy to show someone else how special this place is, and for her to totally get it.

I often fantasize about moving back here, though I don’t know if I ever will. So much has changed in these 20 years. When I lived here, I still didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up. Now, between therapy, coaching, and writing, I feel like I’ve found my calling. My daughter, who was born here, is now 17 years old and applying to colleges, herself. And many of my friends, like me, have moved away, though a few good ones have remained. But here, walking among the ancient redwoods, will always be one of the places on the Earth that I feel most at home.

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