About Wil
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Education & Training Background
Ecosystem Management Technologist Diploma -Sir Sandford Fleming College, Lindsay ON, 2008 -Received the Ontario Federation of Snowmobile Clubs Award and the Brenda Chambers Memorial Award Forest Therapy Guide -Association of Nature and Forest Therapy, 2021 -Nature and Forest Therapy Canada Atlantic Representative, 2024 Climate Facilitation -Climate Psychology Alliance, 2024 -One Resilience Earth, 2024 -How We Thrice, 2024 Mindfulness Meditation -8 week Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) Participant -Weekly sessions at The Centre for Mindfulness Muskoka & Sahaja Yoga Barrie, 2015-2017 First Aid -Advanced Wilderness First Aid, Halifax Search and Rescue, 2024 Group Facilitation -Barefoot Facilitation 3 day course, 2022 |
Professional Background
Habitat restoration, education and stewardship -Sackville Rivers Association, Sackville NS, 2009-2011 -Clean Nova Scotia, Dartmouth NS, 2011-2013 -Nottawasaga Valley Conservation Authority, Angus ON, 2014-2016 -Clean Foundation, Dartmouth NS, 2022-2024 Wilderness teenage addictions and mental health treatment -Pine River Institute, Huntsville ON, 2016-2020 -Youthdale Treatment Centre, Magnetawan ON, 2020-2021 Forest Bathing Guide and Naturalist -Trout Point Lodge, East Kemptville NS, 2021 Educational Assistant -Simcoe Muskoka District School Board, 2018 -Annapolis Valley Regional Centre for Education, 2021-2022 |
My Story: Journey with Nature (1986-2021)
On the Shore of Mary Lake
Growing up, my family travelled busy highways to our cottage in Muskoka, Ontario from late June usually until Labour Day weekend in September. Mom was a teacher most of her life so my siblings and I were lucky to squeeze every bit out of summer in that still fairly rustic cottage with my grandparents, aunts and uncle and cousins. Summer revolved around Mary Lake, where I learned how to swim, water ski, canoe and fish. Walking around barefoot likely just as much as with shoes, building up my ‘Muskoka feet’.
But what I couldn’t appreciate or know at the time, was my innate way of being in nature. “The little beach” where our family and friends would assemble was sheltered by giant eastern white pines with a carpet of soft grass and moss. White birch and alders grew at the shoreline and underneath the water was fine brown sand. We all sprawled out on blankets and ate fruit in the sun. From the beach I would get behind my Grandpa’s 70’s-green boat and ski out onto the lake, air and lake spray in my face. I loved the smell from that old two-stroke Merc motor. I’m sure we spent hours a week fishing for bass where the classic hook, worm and sinker would often provide fish suppers on the cottage deck. When the sun was too hot, I would be swimming between the surface and the sand. I loved keeping my eyes open and pretending I was some aquatic creature, scanning the bottom for anything and everything.
In my teens, I would walk to the falls where Mary Lake drains into the Muskoka River. I somehow began a ritual of folding my hands in thanks and bowing my head to the river, the bedrock, the trees, all of it. I had this deep knowing of a relationship. It made me feel good and it showed the reciprocal sharing between beings.
On a camping trip with a good friend many years later in Kejimkujik National Park, we were admiring graceful white pines along the shore. He pointed out the unique sound the wind and trees make. For a moment, I was confused. But after a few seconds bobbing in the canoe and listening, I remembered. It all came flooding back, right to a typical summer day on the shore of Mary Lake. It was all there: nature, family, food and not a care in the world. The sound of the wind through the white pines is where my intimacy and adoration for nature began.
On the Shore of Mary Lake
Growing up, my family travelled busy highways to our cottage in Muskoka, Ontario from late June usually until Labour Day weekend in September. Mom was a teacher most of her life so my siblings and I were lucky to squeeze every bit out of summer in that still fairly rustic cottage with my grandparents, aunts and uncle and cousins. Summer revolved around Mary Lake, where I learned how to swim, water ski, canoe and fish. Walking around barefoot likely just as much as with shoes, building up my ‘Muskoka feet’.
But what I couldn’t appreciate or know at the time, was my innate way of being in nature. “The little beach” where our family and friends would assemble was sheltered by giant eastern white pines with a carpet of soft grass and moss. White birch and alders grew at the shoreline and underneath the water was fine brown sand. We all sprawled out on blankets and ate fruit in the sun. From the beach I would get behind my Grandpa’s 70’s-green boat and ski out onto the lake, air and lake spray in my face. I loved the smell from that old two-stroke Merc motor. I’m sure we spent hours a week fishing for bass where the classic hook, worm and sinker would often provide fish suppers on the cottage deck. When the sun was too hot, I would be swimming between the surface and the sand. I loved keeping my eyes open and pretending I was some aquatic creature, scanning the bottom for anything and everything.
In my teens, I would walk to the falls where Mary Lake drains into the Muskoka River. I somehow began a ritual of folding my hands in thanks and bowing my head to the river, the bedrock, the trees, all of it. I had this deep knowing of a relationship. It made me feel good and it showed the reciprocal sharing between beings.
On a camping trip with a good friend many years later in Kejimkujik National Park, we were admiring graceful white pines along the shore. He pointed out the unique sound the wind and trees make. For a moment, I was confused. But after a few seconds bobbing in the canoe and listening, I remembered. It all came flooding back, right to a typical summer day on the shore of Mary Lake. It was all there: nature, family, food and not a care in the world. The sound of the wind through the white pines is where my intimacy and adoration for nature began.
School of Nature
At the end of high school, having moved up to Muskoka for Grade 10, I knew I wanted to work outdoors to conserve and protect the natural world I became so fond of. Off to Fleming College where I learned how to identify plants and animals, techniques for studying ecosystems and how to write scientific reports. I studied with hundreds of fellow nature lovers and built strong friendships. I remember being so curious and eager to learn, wild eyed hiking and sinking into wetland muck on field courses. It was all so interesting. It really felt like I was seeing the ways all these creatures and environments worked together so I could better understand how to advocate for them. I wanted to save the world and this was my training.
I was keen to build work experience away from home and ended up in the Maritimes after connecting with some solid east coast folk. My first gig was to research northern flying squirrels in the anything but flat Fundy National Park. I pulled my car into the Parks Canada house across the road from the Bay of Fundy and I was in love. I spent my days and nights trapesing through coastal red spruce forest and exploring the salt water and hills.
Then to Nova Scotia where I began years of freshwater fish habitat restoration and conservation. Much of my work was educating and inspiring through volunteer events and presentations while also physically recreating trout and salmon homes. I was quite active in the ‘water world’ but still found time to explore my new favourite province and get together was truly amazing people. As I was growing into an adult, my school of nature grew my relationship to the Earth where I was mesmerized by all the unique and beautiful pieces. I felt like I was working together with nature for mutual benefit.
Outdoor Healing
After moving back to Ontario I took a break from the environmental industry. I had become frustrated with the politics and financial constraints, but my move home also began a long process of contemplation. I somehow found I wasn’t living how I deep down wanted to; life conditioning, my own ego and habits had brought me to an undesirable place and something needed to happen. Looking to earn a living and grow personally, an opportunity touched on an ongoing interest in mental health and psychology and I began four years of wilderness tripping and counseling for teens with addiction and mental health struggles. A new school began for me and I learned and practiced family and child development, behavioural treatment and the healing benefits of time outdoors.
I slogged through backcountry trips while supporting and accompanying teens on their journey of self discovery and improvement. I became aware of my natural ability to empathize and listen, letting others know I heard and saw them and didn’t place judgements or labels. And I enjoyed relating in this way, it felt right to connect authentically and I could share any insights or wisdom from my life. Turns out I had much to offer from my own struggles and experience and as I helped others grow, I grew myself strong and solid. There’s nothing like carrying gear down the longest, wettest goat path or sitting still by a frozen lake for hours for strengthening your ability to keep on keeping on.
That opportunity did so much for me and it brought me to ways of healing in nature. I started to see community in my peers and the land and how they can be mirrors for our internal processes. I knew nature had that therapeutic ability and people working together under open skies can do truly amazing things. It was a google search one night that brought me to forest therapy as a practice to help people. Once again, I was hooked.
Back to the Earth
Going through the forest therapy guide training was a wild ride indeed. Starting under sugary maples and hemlocks in Ontario and finishing among Nova Scotian waters has brought together bits of my whole life and shown me an evolved way to be with nature, people and my own self. I started feeling the trees and the geography around me as family and being curious how nature may feel me too. I’ve been opening my senses and landing in my body more often and with greater ease. Noticing more and more. And, once again, walking barefoot almost every day.
We say “the way of the guide” is to support and accompany others on a journey to wholeness. I’ve learned to let go of the need to fix things and striving for certain results. I’ve gotten better at simply opening the door to nature so it can do the healing work, meeting people where they’re at and offering specifically what’s needed at that time and place. Making space and allowing in my own head and heart for the possibility of real magic to happen when people and the land come together in an open way.
From where I began my journey to now, I’m over and over again going back to the earth on my own path to wholeness. Sitting on the edge of a forest trail or the shore of a beautiful body of water, listening to the wind and feeling the plants between my toes. Bowing my head in thanks.
-Wil Brunner
September 19, 2021
At the end of high school, having moved up to Muskoka for Grade 10, I knew I wanted to work outdoors to conserve and protect the natural world I became so fond of. Off to Fleming College where I learned how to identify plants and animals, techniques for studying ecosystems and how to write scientific reports. I studied with hundreds of fellow nature lovers and built strong friendships. I remember being so curious and eager to learn, wild eyed hiking and sinking into wetland muck on field courses. It was all so interesting. It really felt like I was seeing the ways all these creatures and environments worked together so I could better understand how to advocate for them. I wanted to save the world and this was my training.
I was keen to build work experience away from home and ended up in the Maritimes after connecting with some solid east coast folk. My first gig was to research northern flying squirrels in the anything but flat Fundy National Park. I pulled my car into the Parks Canada house across the road from the Bay of Fundy and I was in love. I spent my days and nights trapesing through coastal red spruce forest and exploring the salt water and hills.
Then to Nova Scotia where I began years of freshwater fish habitat restoration and conservation. Much of my work was educating and inspiring through volunteer events and presentations while also physically recreating trout and salmon homes. I was quite active in the ‘water world’ but still found time to explore my new favourite province and get together was truly amazing people. As I was growing into an adult, my school of nature grew my relationship to the Earth where I was mesmerized by all the unique and beautiful pieces. I felt like I was working together with nature for mutual benefit.
Outdoor Healing
After moving back to Ontario I took a break from the environmental industry. I had become frustrated with the politics and financial constraints, but my move home also began a long process of contemplation. I somehow found I wasn’t living how I deep down wanted to; life conditioning, my own ego and habits had brought me to an undesirable place and something needed to happen. Looking to earn a living and grow personally, an opportunity touched on an ongoing interest in mental health and psychology and I began four years of wilderness tripping and counseling for teens with addiction and mental health struggles. A new school began for me and I learned and practiced family and child development, behavioural treatment and the healing benefits of time outdoors.
I slogged through backcountry trips while supporting and accompanying teens on their journey of self discovery and improvement. I became aware of my natural ability to empathize and listen, letting others know I heard and saw them and didn’t place judgements or labels. And I enjoyed relating in this way, it felt right to connect authentically and I could share any insights or wisdom from my life. Turns out I had much to offer from my own struggles and experience and as I helped others grow, I grew myself strong and solid. There’s nothing like carrying gear down the longest, wettest goat path or sitting still by a frozen lake for hours for strengthening your ability to keep on keeping on.
That opportunity did so much for me and it brought me to ways of healing in nature. I started to see community in my peers and the land and how they can be mirrors for our internal processes. I knew nature had that therapeutic ability and people working together under open skies can do truly amazing things. It was a google search one night that brought me to forest therapy as a practice to help people. Once again, I was hooked.
Back to the Earth
Going through the forest therapy guide training was a wild ride indeed. Starting under sugary maples and hemlocks in Ontario and finishing among Nova Scotian waters has brought together bits of my whole life and shown me an evolved way to be with nature, people and my own self. I started feeling the trees and the geography around me as family and being curious how nature may feel me too. I’ve been opening my senses and landing in my body more often and with greater ease. Noticing more and more. And, once again, walking barefoot almost every day.
We say “the way of the guide” is to support and accompany others on a journey to wholeness. I’ve learned to let go of the need to fix things and striving for certain results. I’ve gotten better at simply opening the door to nature so it can do the healing work, meeting people where they’re at and offering specifically what’s needed at that time and place. Making space and allowing in my own head and heart for the possibility of real magic to happen when people and the land come together in an open way.
From where I began my journey to now, I’m over and over again going back to the earth on my own path to wholeness. Sitting on the edge of a forest trail or the shore of a beautiful body of water, listening to the wind and feeling the plants between my toes. Bowing my head in thanks.
-Wil Brunner
September 19, 2021