I shuffle in the mid-day sun, surprised by how warm I feel, despite a high of 2 degrees Fahrenheit today. Mid-winter solar rays feel particularly uplifting. Winter can be hard mentally, especially as my constant struggle with injury seems to mask the joy I find with moving outside. But I try to get outside for a little bit each day to soak up some vitamin D — whether running, walking, or skiing — because despite those injuries, feeling the elements on my face seems to be the one thing that eases my anxious mind.
On top of personal woes, the worldly woes seem overwhelming: fires, wars, climate change, and politics. But also, despite these things, the natural world is still beautiful and if there is one thing that helps, it’s being out in it.
Low winter sun in the San Juan Mountains, Colorado. All photos: Hannah Green
Treat Nature as We Treat One Another
On a long drive recently, I listened to Robin Wall Kimmerer’s “Braiding Sweetgrass.” In it, she emphasizes the idea of reciprocity. The idea is that if we take, we must also give, and vice versa. This not only applies to humans, but also to nearly every element in this world.
Reciprocity takes physical forms, but it can also be in something as little as gratitude when something is given to us. Kimmerer writes that if we teach and approach nature like we do each other as humans then we won’t feel so separate from it — a separation that has led to technological advancements, but often at the cost of the environment and the natural world. It’s like when someone asks, “How are you?” You usually ask the same thing in return.
In a world that’s filled with a lot of negativity, it can be easy to feel, to give, and to take everything negatively. And that obviously doesn’t bode well for our mental health. But I think we need reminders that we too are part of the natural world and can be as gentle and uplifting as the birds that sit outside our windows. Those birds bring us joy, and in return, we sit and listen to them, for they are our friends.
Today when I was running, I said hello to the hawk and the raven that flew overhead. I said hello to the creek, frozen over from the cold nights. I said hello to the aspen groves and oak bushes that shake their dried leaves in the breeze.
Some people roll their eyes at folks like me who call the elements of nature dear friends. In fact, I think my contentment in doing a lot of solo things comes from knowing I have friends wherever I go, and finding joy in the presence of nature, rather than loneliness in the lack of humans. But people are wonderful too, and we need them.
Nature at its most beautiful.
We’ve all had those moments with loved ones — or even with ourselves — where they can’t see the light, and despite their struggles, tears, and emotions, we embrace them and tell them we love them, because we know that inside there’s the most beautiful, kind, and caring person.
It recently struck me that we too can embrace this world in a time when it seems to be crumbling. Like when you reach out and touch the charred bark of a tree caught in a forest fire, or sit down on the side of a mountain amid its scars from mining, or when you drink from a fresh spring, knowing the ways the water is being polluted downstream.
Recently, I stood on the bank of the San Juan River in southeast Utah. I was passing through and realized I had never seen it on a day with temperatures in the single digits Fahrenheit. Frozen blocks of ice slowly moved downstream, whispering as they flowed. The donkeys hidden in the willows across the bank snorted and hee-hawed at my presence. I was grateful to stand there on that cold day and listen to the water, water that is so vital to every bit of life in the Four Corners region.
Love and compassion for the world, for ourselves, and for each other are becoming vital to our mental health these days. Without it, the world can be a very grim place.
As the late author Barry Lopez wrote, “It is more important now to be in love than to be in power. It is more important to live for the possibilities that lie ahead than to die in despair over what has been lost. Only the misled can insist that heaven awaits the righteous while they watch the fires on Earth consume the only heaven we have ever known … In this trembling moment, is it still possible to face the gathering darkness and say to the physical Earth, and to all its creatures, including ourselves, fiercely and without embarrassment, I love you, and to embrace fearlessly the burning world?”
Call for Comments
- Do you too find company in nature?
- How as runners can we treat the natural world with greater compassion?
Light breaking over the San Juan Mountains.
