Rooted and Wild: Group Therapy as a Living System
In my previous blog, Walking Each Other Home, I introduced the interpersonal terrain of group therapy—the slow emergence of group culture, the paradox of the therapist’s role, and the quiet power of presence. This piece goes deeper. It descends into the forest floor, the root systems, the invisible networks that pulse beneath and between us. Group culture may begin as a shared tone or nervous system, but over time, something wilder stirs within it. Not just a culture, but a system—alive, unpredictable, intelligent in ways we cannot manage or manufacture. To be part of a group, then, is to enter a living, breathing organism. And like all living systems, it moves to its own rhythm.
Group therapy disrupts our longing for a linear, individualised narrative. It challenges the idea that healing follows a straight path, illuminating instead the fluid, recursive nature of our thoughts and inner workings. In group, the self is neither isolated nor static—it is socially constructed, shaped and reshaped within the living, polyphonic ecosystem of relationships.
A group is both a reflection of the broader culture and a mirror of our own minds. It is mycelial in its movement, branching into multiple perspectives and identities, thriving in the dynamic interplay of voices. Like an emergent system, it forms patterns of interaction that are unpredictable yet deeply intelligent—akin to bird flocking, coral blooming, or improvisational jazz. Healing is not a goal to chase, but a moment when dissonance transforms into coherence—when many voices momentarily align in synchrony.
Group therapy is not about structured self-improvement or fixed objectives. It’s not a quest for an elusive cure. Instead, it’s an invitation into an ancient, participatory relationship with the untamed wilderness of our minds. It behaves like a living, breathing entity—part compassionate nurturer, part irreverent trickster, part spontaneous wanderer. It resists categorisation, unfolding organically, with rhythms that are sometimes harmonious, sometimes discordant—yet always alive.
Where modern life has become regimented and hyper-controlled, group therapy reawakens something primal and miraculous. It moves like a tangle of vines, an underground web of fungi, a swell of overlapping voices—spontaneous, adaptive, alive.
A well-functioning group mutates and reforms, responding intelligently to the needs of the moment. It mirrors the principles of resilience ecology, flexibly adapting to disruption and fostering balance rather than prescribing rigid solutions. Just as a forest regenerates after fire, group therapy nurtures the conditions for restoration—without dictating how that healing should unfold.
Much like an immune system, a group doesn’t impose order from above, but facilitates homeostasis from within. Its emergent intelligence helps members become more flexible, more relationally attuned, more capable of navigating life’s unpredictable terrain. We learn to tell stories that bend rather than break—stories with improvisation, contradiction, and transformation at their heart. We begin to hear ourselves differently when reflected through others—tuning into the ongoing chorus of human experience.
The effects of group therapy reach beyond the psychological into the biotic, metabolic, and sensory dimensions of being human. It soothes the stress responses that overtax our nervous systems, supports neuroplasticity, and invites embodied renewal. Like a thriving ecosystem—or a rich piece of music—it holds space for tension, rest, variation, and return. It nourishes the mind-body connection, helping us stay attuned to the shifting seasons of our inner and outer landscapes.
Life is not static; it demands responsiveness. Different conditions call for different movements, expressions, and interactions. Different environments stir different stories from our mycelial depths. Group therapy, at its core, teaches us how to re-fruit—how to rise again with fresh insight, renewed vitality, and a deeper capacity to weather storms while staying rooted in what sustains us.
Let us rediscover the fungal flexibility to play—to experiment with creative, spiritual, and relational expression. Let us move away from rigid, patriarchal narratives that demand control and certainty, and instead embrace the wisdom of interdependence. To adapt is to survive. To stay responsive to life’s shifting tides is to thrive.
A healthy group is not a static institution but a celebration: a humming hive, a murmuring forest, a polyphonic swell of difference that occasionally resolves into harmony. It is a magician, a compost pile, a tangle of hands and voices. It is life itself—wild, evolving, and deeply human.
Group therapy, like the natural systems it reflects, is not about fixed outcomes or predictable paths. It is a dynamic, relational process that invites us into a living conversation with our minds—as complex and untameable as the ecosystems around us. Healing, in this context, is not about control, but about emergence, resilience, and deepening connection.
Acknowledgement
Much of the imagery and inspiration for this post was drawn from Sophie Strand’s work, particularly Chapter 7 of The Flowering Wand, which delves into the wisdom of ecological thinking, resilience, and interconnectedness.