Nature as a Tool for Self Reflection
By Gentry Patterson
The aggressive warmth of the Hawaiian sun finds me even under the shade of this palm tree. All around me is the sound of the surf, the lulling metronome of waves crashing and withdrawing into the vast expanse of the sea. The steadiness of the dull roar moderates the speed of my thoughts, firmly holding them to its cadence.
In...and out. In...and out.
Its power is humbling; there is no choice but to yield to it. The ocean was here before me and will be here long after me, but while I’m here, it demands my attention. In return, it offers me the power of its rhythm.
I slow down, allowing my mind to wander in and out like the tide. I find myself reflecting on the anxieties, fears, and pressures of my life, but at such moments that my mind would begin to race, the sound of the ocean keeps me steady.
Drifting in this steadiness, I begin to recognize additional, less obvious gifts. I realize that the ocean is offering me context, as my private troubles and concerns are dwarfed by its vastness. I realize that the ocean does not care about my choices or my character- it offers me a warm indifference. In such a company, I easily shed the pretenses and self-deceptions accumulated in the bustling day-to-day drama of my regular life. The ocean does not care about whether or not I got that job I interviewed for, or if I’m on track for my New Year's resolutions. In its presence, it seems silly to boast of my triumphs or hide away my insecurities. Instead, I am allowed to just be.
This permission to be vulnerable with myself, honest without judgement, is a unique and important benefit of spending time alone in nature. Here at the sandy edge of Kauai, or even back home in Alabama, in a wooded glen tucked away in the Sipsey, I’ve found that Mother Nature is my most consistent and dependable companion.
On any regular day in my very regular life, I’m focused on getting my work done, attending to my responsibilities, and otherwise gliding through my daily routines. Some self-deception is almost required to keep everything on track. I tell myself that everything is fine, that I have no worries or fears or insecurities or anything. Don’t think about those things right now. Stay focused. I put on a mask of cheerful productivity, out of politeness to the friends and family around me but also for myself, out of necessity. After all, if I get caught up in some of these thoughts, who knows how long it will take to shift my mindset back to the task at hand? Better to ignore them for the time being and ensure the day goes smoothly. This charade is unnecessary in nature.
When I am alone in nature, there is no hiding from myself. The yearnings I’ve tucked away and the thoughts I’ve pushed aside come barrelling back to the forefront of my mind, where I may finally consider them and accept them. I am able to grapple with the hard things. I am able to become acquainted with my limitations, and also my dreams. This self-reflection is an essential practice in my life. Done regularly, it keeps me grounded, stoic in the face of adversity, and free of the bindings of repressed emotion. It’s a practice that may help you, too.
If you haven’t spent much time alone in nature and you’re not sure where to begin, don’t fret. I have some advice. First, however, let me assure you of two things I’ve learned through experience:
1.There’s no wrong way to do it.
2: You’ll get better with practice.
Mindfulness is difficult to achieve in a modern, connected world, where we are constantly bombarded with reminders of our status, the expectations of our family and friends, our failings, and the general chaos of society. Don’t bring this with you into nature. Leave your phone turned off in your pocket.
This might sound kind of funny, but I’ve found that the best way to begin your time with yourself in nature is to forget yourself altogether. Pay attention to the leaves or the grass or the sand, whatever is around you. Notice the lizards or the birds or whoever shares your company, and consider their lives and the independence of their lives from your own. This is actually a very important step because the indifference of nature to our own feelings and situations is what helps us to see ourselves from an objective, non-judgmental point of view.
When you return your thoughts to yourself, start by thinking about your physical presence in nature. Feel the sensations of your environment on your body. Take note of the feeling of the breeze on your skin. Listen carefully to the sounds of the world around you, and smell the evergreens or the sun-baked clay or whatever lies nearby. Let these physical sensations be your anchor as you allow your deeper thoughts to surface.
We all have thoughts about ourselves that seem so scary, seem so real, but they are just thoughts. As you sit there, alone with yourself, examine these thoughts from nature’s perspective. Imagine your mistakes and victories in the scheme of geologic time. Imagine your greatest shame in the eyes of an ant skittering about near your feet. Think about that overwhelming decision you’ve been putting off for weeks now in the context of everything around you. Imagine what the squirrels will think if you make the “wrong” decision, or the “right” one, and take comfort in the fact that they won’t really care either way.
The last piece of advice I’ll give you is that you don’t need to worry about having a specific topic in mind to ponder when you head off into the woods to be alone. The important things will make their way to the front of your mind. Just allow yourself the time and space to let go and let nature lead you. You’ll be amazed at what you find.
Gentry Patterson is an American writer and cartographer living in Birmingham, Alabama. He loves to be outside and enjoys spending time with a good book.
