I tend to linger for a long time in the woods, at the beach, or in the desert. Just put me outside. It’s where I can notice and be captivated by an exquisite vein of quartz in a rock, or four shades of green in the leaves and foliage, or the hues of blue and white in a swirling ocean wave.
It’s about…
The feeling of aliveness when observing these details. It brings me back to myself when the inevitable stresses of life get me down.
Being in nature as part of a self-care practice helps me ground myself. The need to ground comes from an adult point of view and I think it started as a young girl growing up in northern New Jersey. I got lost for hours floating in a kayak on Split Rock Reservoir in Rockaway Township. I watched the way the sun seemed to sparkle in reflections on the water, loved the sugary smell of hay and dried leaves in the fall. When I got older and started working in Manhattan—a stone-cold environment of concrete—I would look forward to crossing the bridge or passing through the tunnel back to New Jersey. When I lived in Jersey City, the piers on the Hudson River toward the hospital and Liberty State Park were my favorite. I often walked down to the water and searched for the mussel shells that were plentiful on the riverbank. Hearing their crunch under my boot brought me joy.
Sometimes, when mired in meetings, job routes, and to-do lists that never end, losing the joy and focusing single-mindedly on a goal can happen easily. Just get the work done. Putting the search for joy on a shelf is easy when sitting in meetings where you might hold your breath (and your tongue) and just hope the clients like the work. Advertising is a service industry and, to be successful, we sometimes have to put ourselves aside for the greater good of the team and client.
When I was working on my bachelor’s degree in transpersonal psychology, I took a class on ecopsychology. The term was coined in the 1960s and is an idea that emerged and evolved with the humanistic psychology movement. Essentially, ecopsychology bridges our emotional relationship to Earth. For some, this involves environmental activism and addressing human behavior and the climate crisis. For others like me, I am reminded that there is a reason that I feel such joy when I am in nature. It’s a place to breathe without the restrictions and expectations of work or anything else. It’s a place to be quiet, to allow the senses to engage with the beauty of the wild world.
Being in nature also helps me feel alive. While I was doing graduate work and living in New Orleans, there were massive, ancient, beautiful oak trees that lined my street. I often set an alarm to jolt me out of work-study mode, a reminder to simply walk beneath the trees and look at them. It was a palate cleanser for my mind. Now, as I prepare to start a PhD in the fall, I’m settling into my new home in Northern California. I imagine working and studying will become intense. But I’m surrounded by beautiful redwoods and remarkable cliffs in the town of Fort Bragg. The climate is moderate, so I’ve taken my yoga practice outside, too. Each opportunity to commune with nature is an opportunity to feel rooted and grounded and alive in myself.
