Nature and our mental health

What do you feel when you step outside and enter the natural world?

I’m talking about those first few minutes when:

• you stroll into the green dome of a forest

• your kayak skims the surface of a lake

• your bare feet sink into sun-warmed beach sand

• your gaze sweeps across a wide mountain valley

Maybe just looking at this photo evokes that burst-open feeling of being in a place where the Earth so generously offers up her beauty. The unbridled joy that washes over us. The sense of smallness amid grandeur.

This is Sam’s Knob, one of my favorite places in the world. It’s in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina, elevation 6,000 feet. You’re on top of the world here, with a 360-degree view of earth and sky.

(And yes, I’m that figure sitting on the rock. You can’t see how happy she is but … trust me … she is. I chose this photo to headline the website for my nature therapy practice.)

How nature affects us physically

The somatic benefits of being in nature are now well-documented, thanks to thousands of research projects and books such as The Nature Fix, Vitamin N and The Biophilia Effect. Whenever I lead a workshop in nature therapy, I make sure my participants know what phytoncides are. I talk about lower blood pressure, slower heart rate, a dip in the stress hormone, cortisol … all those physiological effects humans experience after spending only a few minutes in a forest.

The physical benefits of being in nature are invisible, but they’re real. Consider them the Earth’s longterm gift(s) to you. And that’s only half the story.

How nature affects us psychologically

We’re now beginning to understand that being outdoors doesn’t affect us only physically. There are also a range of cognitive and emotional benefits from nature immersion. Among them:

• improved working memory performance

• better concentration and attentional focus

• less impulsivity

• lower levels of depression and anxiety

• increased capacity for joy

• sense of calmness and well-being

• enhanced creativity

• more stable mood and affect (expression of mood)

If you Google the words “mental health and nature,” you’ll uncover a treasure trove of clinical studies supporting the theory that time spent in the natural world is good for our mental health. Here's a nice wrap-up from the American Psychological Association.

I can tell you, from boots-on-the-ground research (literally!) with my own clients: One single hour in nature has a marked effect on the human brain and nervous system. That’s why I sought extra training in ecotherapy and shifted the focus of my counseling practice in that direction.

When I stepped onto this green path five years ago, I noticed right away the difference between seeing clients in my office versus “walk-and-talk” sessions outdoors. In nature, my clients are invariably more relaxed, less distracted, more able to see “the big picture” in relation to their challenges.

Photo by Michael Descharles on Unsplash

The brain in nature

One longtime client of mine had an extensive history of trauma and an alphabet-soup collection of diagnoses, including PTSD and ADD. At our in-office sessions, she would plop herself on my sofa and for the next hour, I’d hear an exhaustive stream of verbal offloading—her conflicts past, present, and future. I struggled to keep her on track and provide any meaningful interventions. It was a roller coaster ride of emotional dysregulation, punctuated by frequent tears.

When we started meeting at a botanical garden, the sessions changed dramatically. Ten minutes into our walk along woodland paths, her stream-of-consciousness monologue would slow and eventually stop. She would get out her phone and start taking pictures of tiny things she saw: a bee diving into a flower, the tip of a mushroom pushing up from the leaf litter.

Nature’s enchantments were a magnet for her attention, luring her brain away from its anxious rumination. As we explored the wonders around us—tree bark, water flowing over rocks, birdsong high overhead—she experienced what a calm nervous system feels like. And that’s when we would discover insights she could apply to her problems.

Another client was a young man with a traumatic brain injury. His psychiatrist sent him to me for mindfulness training. Sitting in my office, the young man had a hard time following instructions and remembering how to do the techniques I was trying to teach him. His brain struggled to grasp new concepts and retain memories. It was frustrating for both of us.

One day, I said “Let’s take a walk.”

My office was in an old Victorian house in a residential neighborhood, the perfect place for a stroll. For the next half-hour, we walked in a big square around the block, over and over. I asked him to tell me what he was seeing … hearing … smelling. At first, he couldn’t understand why I was asking him that. We kept walking.

Eventually he started noticing things: a dog barking at us from a front porch, the cool air beneath shade trees, the patterns of shadows on the sidewalk. It was a breakthrough. Those simple sensory notings were the gateway into mindfulness. He got it.

I’ll be sharing more about the “brain in nature” in my upcoming book, Good Eye, Bad Eye: A Memoir of Trauma and Truth. My own story is one of a disfigured child who took her loneliness into the woods behind her family’s house. That’s where I learned about the medicine of nature—not only for the body, but also for the heart and mind.

Now it’s your turn. Let’s go back to my initial question: What do you feel when you step into the natural world? How does the Earth heal you? I’d love to hear!

(NOTE: In any posts I publish about my psychotherapy clients, the person’s name and some identifying details have been changed to protect their privacy. If anything you read in this post triggers a trauma response in you, please consult with your own therapist if you have one — or call the national mental health crisis lifeline at 988 in the U.S. and 0800 689 5652 in the U.K.)