I was lucky to have been raised on a Midwestern gentleman’s farm. My sister and I had plenty of fresh air, trees to climb, and stars to gaze upon in the black night sky.

 

My parents built an extraordinary home, nestled in a verdant valley a quarter mile off the main road. A strong German Lutheran work ethic circled the perimeter of our lives not unlike the fences that cordoned off the farm.

 

As kids, we had the freedom to wander outside all day and discover new universes each evening. Living in the country, with the big open sky, opened up all kinds of possibilities to dream about the future.

 

You’d often find my sister and me playing in the creek that snaked through our property. We’d find interesting rocks, even arrowheads, in the stream-beds. I loved exploring in the creek barefoot, looking for interesting objects, watching the animals, and splashing my sister. I learned early how life’s wisdom emerges from nature.

 

Connection

 

The venerable bur oak that sits at the end of the long, winding driveway is well over 200 years old; its acorns topped with bristly husks like rustic, woolen ski caps. It provided shelter from the gusty winter winds and shade for the muggy dog days of August. It was my constant companion growing up. Waiting for the bus, I’d follow the grooves of the deeply textured, grayish bark, and feel into the livingness of this tree I long ago claimed.

 

One morning, the beloved tree appeared to be gently witnessing my private thoughts.

 

You see, while the country was a terrific place to grow up, home life was not always terrific. Given the tension and lack of harmony in my childhood household, it’s no surprise that I found solace in nature and in spirit, or that I wanted to help people to get along better and love one another.

 

When troubled, I’d find my way to the big bur oak tree. That tree, my tree, became a regulating force in my own life. Given how important emotional regulation is to our day-to-day life, not to mention leadership, time with my tree offered more than comfort. It offered me the energy of stability, strength and fortitude, energetic qualities I needed too.

 

I knew the tree was solidly connected to Mother Earth, and that it’d take something catastrophic to harm the tree.

 

I could literally lean into the oak. I could relax. And, by tuning into the sounds and sensations of nature all around me, I could settle.

 

While I didn’t realize that’s what I was doing at the time, I knew I was drawn to my tree and that being with my tree, I could absorb stability, strength, and fortitude.

 

What I was experiencing was the refreshing, re-energizing effects of nature on my biological system.

 

We need more of this connection to nature today, for two reasons:

1) We’re increasingly alienated from our own bodies natural rhythms.

2) There’s evidence that climate change is contributing to devastating weather events that have big economic impacts, and it’s, “making us paranoid, anxious, and angry.”

 

 

Alienation

 

The symptoms of our alienation from nature are evident everywhere. We’re immersed in artificial environments constructed of metal, asphalt, glass, plastic. How often do our daily interactions involve trees, rivers, wind, soil, plants, wildlife, or clouds?

 

We run from the rain, curse the heat and cold, cower as storms approach, and avoid dark forests. We don’t like soil, yet as any gardener or naturalist will tell you, it’s that building block of nature that grounds our very being.

 

When we lose touch with nature, we lose touch with our deepest self.

 

Instead, we interact frequently with cell phones, computers, televisions, and tablets that offer us simulations of nature, relationships, and connection. We only have the illusion that we’re receiving the benefits of what we stream and scroll.

 

As a result, nature seems foreign and foreboding, we feel numb and disconnected from ourselves and from life. We’re at odds with our true sense of connection to nature.

 

We regard our cars, houses, offices – all artificial habitats – as home, while the outdoors is perceived as ‘out there’ and not an integral aspect within our own lives.

 

While I’ve not yet read his new book, The Weight of Nature, (it is on my reading list for this summer), the neuroscientist turned journalist, Clayton Aldern writes about what he calls, “direct interventions of environmental change on the brain.”

 

“It is the job of your brain to model the world as it is,” writes Aldern. “And the world is mutating.”We are mutating with it. We are becoming more suspicious, paranoid, anxious, depressive, distracted, nihilistic, and angry. Not all of us, and not all the time.

 

Some respond, as Aldern instructs his readers to do, with greater empathy, resilience, collective action, and pipeline sabotage.

 

But that is just another kind of mutation: an antibody response. This great transformation is already deforming our inner lives in ways we are only beginning to comprehend. “Climate change isn’t only here,” writes Aldern, “it is inside us.”

 

Antidote

 

Yes, nature is inside us. We are nature, period. If we allow ourselves to experience nature’s energy moving through us, we can learn the wisdom needed for the moment at hand.

 

What’s all this got to do with leading our lives well, you may ask. It has to do with recognizing that we are all creatures of earth.

 

Life flows through us as in the trees, rivers, meadows. And, in our busy modern lives, a big antidote to today’s angst is to practice tuning into that life energy.

 

If you reconnect with Mother Nature or claim a tree of your own, let me know at drchris@q4-consulting.com.