Why Do We Feel More Human in Nature?

Words by Noor Ehsan

Sometimes, when it feels like my mind is a swarm of lists, unchecked boxes, and several tabs open, I forget what it feels like to be me, to be human. I forget what it feels like to not feel like a working bot with a thousand things to do. If you’re anything like me, you’re constantly thinking about what to have for dinner tonight, what you’re wearing to work tomorrow, that you need to write your friends birthday card, to reply to those emails, to hoover your car, wait – did I lock the back door before I left the house today? And that’s without any kids to look after (I don’t know how parents do it). But, every now and then, I put my walking boots in my car and drive somewhere new for an adventure, or I look up for a moment before I go in the house when it’s dark so I can look up at the stars, or I watch the clouds as they change colour as the sun sets. In those moments, the air seems cleaner and my breath feels deeper. I wonder, why do we feel more human – not behind screens, not leading meetings, but when we notice and surround ourselves with nature?

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that for most of history humans have evolved to be outside. To use the sun to tell time, to notice the footsteps of approaching animals and understand the direction of the wind. It’s only recently that we have lived amongst the internet, phones, skyscrapers, even traffic lights. When we step back into nature, and immerse ourselves in the natural views of the Earth, we return back to our most human state. Biologist Edward O. Wilson calls this ‘biophilia’, the innate human tendency to seek connection with nature. Maybe he has a point.

It could also be to do with the idea that most of us are tied to routines, in the office, behind a desk and two screens (because the workload requires more than just one screen). You don’t tend to find that same routine when you’re standing between trees and noticing the shadows casted by the sun. The routine that many of us are bound by fades away when we allow nature to put her arms around us and melt into her hug. In nature, time does not stretch to the 24-hour clock that we base ourselves on. Trees grow at their own pace, water pours off a waterfall no matter the time, rivers do not comply with any other speed than its own. Maybe, by being immersed in the world’s clocks, we find our own breath again, for what feels like the first time in a while.

Or perhaps, the reason is because we feel a bigger sense of community and compassion towards others compared to our regular day-to-day. Where we might rush past someone struggling to get down the steps on the way to the tube, we might pause and put our hand out when we’re on a trail outdoors. As we mind our own business and remain in our own little world on our coffee run for work, we, instead, find ourselves saying good morning to those following the same path as us when we’re in nature. In the cities that we live in, in the hustle between work and life, we seldom find a feeling of community amongst strangers nowadays. Nature brings us back to the human connection that we need.

We are constantly looking after ourselves, at home, at work, all the in-betweens. Yet, when we find ourselves in a forest or swimming in a lake, we put a little bit of trust in nature to take care of us, to feel at peace. It can’t be a coincidence that mindfulness practices, like meditation, often resemble naturistic prompts. Asking us to imagine roots like trees into the earth, to breathe in motion with ocean waves, to focus on noises like birds in the wind, or to sleep to the sounds of thunderstorms and rain. It might be because nature encourages reconnection to our physical selves. Maybe there is a real reason why nature manages to quiet the noise of our minds. Don’t take my word for it, I’m just spit-balling here, but something about it feels right.

Next time you’re watching the sunrise, or looking up at the stars, let me know if everything else in your life paused for that moment. I know it does for me.