Rediscovering our connection to nature
Demystifying the notion of 'nature connection' and it's place in healing the climate crisis.
I wanted to try out the voiceovers for my articles! I am not the most practised speaker around but I hope you can find joy in listening to this piece, and my mismashed accent. My microphone switched at the end for some reason, ignore that. ;)
I’ve read so much about our disconnection with nature, and the issues this presents when it comes to caring about the world around us. And it’s clear our relationship to nature, or current lack thereof, is part of the reason we find ourselves in this ecological crisis.
The view that humans are separate from nature has persisted for a while–thanks, Descartes–but it’s becoming undeniable that humanity and nature are intrinsically intertwined, and we need to bring back this belief if we are to have any chance of healing the ecological issues plaguing the world today.
But when the advice is presented simply as “we need to connect more with nature”, I find myself increasingly frustrated with the concept itself. Let me put this into perspective…
I recently went camping with a few friends in the Lake District. We drove up at 6 a.m. on a drizzly Saturday morning, headed straight for Scafell Pike–the biggest mountain in England–for a day hike before we set up camp in a field.
I have done my fair share of nature walks, camping trips, and national park visits in my life, but I’ve never seen anywhere as beautiful as the Lake District. Despite the freezing ‘summer’ weather, constant drizzling and the perpetual tiredness that comes from driving long distances, I felt in awe every time I looked up from what I was doing and was met with the towering mountains standing in the distance.
After three days of feeling as if we were in a fantasy film, we drove back down the M6 to the (un)welcoming arms of Birmingham. I managed to sleep through most of the journey, but when I woke up, I was slapped with the realisation Birmingham is really fucking ugly.
Isabelle, you may ask, how do you live in Birmingham for 4 years without realising it is ugly? And it’s not that I never realised this city’s unsightly appearance–though it does have many beautiful aspects to it–but contrasting the two vividly different places made its ugliness more pronounced that day. The unbounded nature of the Lake District abutted next to the concrete and towering buildings of Birmingham.
Although the ugliness or beauty of a city is down to personal opinion, it brings back into question the notion of nature connection. It’s not only a concept toted by environmental activists, but there have been various studies and reports on how this connection is not only good for our mental health but “people’s relationship with nature profoundly influences their behaviours toward the Earth”.
This means our relationship with nature, and the Earth alongside it, may influence how we treat our surroundings. It’s easier to litter, to rip up greenery, and on a larger scale, to fell a forest and cover it with concrete when you don’t feel you have a connection to the wider planet.
But how does one even form a relationship with the natural world when you’re surrounded by concrete?
As of 2021, 84% of the UK’s population lives in urban areas, though I don’t feel this issue is unique to city dwellers. If you live in the industrialised countryside with mono-crops, pesticides and wildlife hunting, you may still struggle to form this relationship yourself.
I also feel like there’s a belief that we have advanced so far as a human race that we no longer need to rely on our surroundings to survive. As I’ve written previously–we could survive in a bubble city protected from the sun’s extra harsh rays, where bees and butterflies are replaced by flying pollinating robots, where we get our nutrition from bacteria grown in a vat, but whether humanity can survive in this way isn’t important, it’s considering the ways we truly want to live.
Would you rather live in a world with long-distance commutes, industrially processed food, digitised relationships, disengagement from the body, or a world where you own a home made of natural materials, linked closely with similar dwellings of people you care about deeply, adjoined by gardens full of nutritious food, surrounded by nature that is filled wildlife?
Now I’ve explained a bit more deeply why I am a big promoter of nature connection. Let's get back to the original question: how does one even begin to find this relationship?
I feel there are two arms to this problem, one being that we have no connection to our local areas (as humans have pretty much become nomads in the last few hundred years), and the other is the difficulty of finding nature around us.
I’ve spoken before about how I grew up renting–moving every few years–and how my family is from various parts of the country, with no connection to any sort of ancestral lands. This isn’t a unique position to be in, it’s quite rare to find someone now who has lived in one place for more than a generation or so.
Paul Kingsnorth wrote about this in his book Savage Gods, speaking to the struggle of stewarding land when you know you’re just passing through it: “[S]ince I have lived here I have come to understand, with a startling clarity, how different I might have been as a human being, how differently I might look at the world, if I had inherited this land from my parents and expected to hand it down to my children. [...] I imagine how I would feel about this land if I’d been passed it by my mother and father, if I’d grown up on it with them, if it had been constructed by their hands and my memories.”
There’s not really any solution to this apart from making a mindset shift. I’ve found myself almost avoiding putting down roots where I live as I know there’s potential for us to move in the future, but I’m trying to treat this land like it’s my lifeblood, discovering what this area can teach me.
A fun way I’ve found to feel connected to your land is to look back at old folklore or myths of the area you find yourself in. Whether you believe in them or not, it’s interesting to discover how ancient people viewed the land you are living in.
On the other arm, I recently read Being Pagan by Rhyd Wildermuth (a guide to re-enchant your life!) on recommendation, and although the religious aspect isn’t something I feel called to at the moment, these guys had some pretty great ideas. Especially when talking about the way we view the natural world. One paragraph that stuck out to me: “A certain thing happens when you believe a forest is a god or goddess, that a god or goddess lives there, and that is the forest belongs to them, rather than to humans. What happens is that you see the forest as sacred, meaning that something is set apart from the everyday human realm, and you treat the forest as such. Just as with other sacred things, you don’t use it too much, you don’t destroy it, you take care of it, and you don’t let others destroy it.”
We don’t need to live next to a sacred forest to connect to nature, nor do we all need to leave our homes and live out rural lifestyles, but there are many ways to connect to nature wherever you may find yourself.
If you’re lucky enough to have a back garden, this is an obvious place to start, but planting a few herb seeds on the windowsill can feel just as good. As someone who lacks gardening space myself–my balcony is perpetually shaded–visiting a local community garden is an opportunity to put my hands into the mud and feel closer to the Earth. Plus, you can build connections here with people who feel the same way you do.
If you’re not green-thumbed, committing to intentionally look out for flowers, plants, and weeds growing up through cracks, pavements, walls, or brown lands in your local area, researching what these plants are, their meanings or their potential uses is an exceptionally easy way to feel more connected. (There are TONS of plant finder apps available for you to download on your smartphone.)
A lovely way to venture into this is through
’s newsletter Sharing articles about noticing just one thing within nature, and how this can build into doing your bit for the planet.Nature is not just about plants and greenery, regularly stargazing or moon-watching can bring about a connection to the Earth. With enough practice, you might find yourself being able to predict where the moon will rise or where a certain constellation will be. Even simply laying back and watching the clouds roll through on a windy day can bolster your connection.
In the same book, Rhyd goes on to write this clever take “[The] ancient animist belief that natural disasters are linked to human actions suddenly sounds a lot more advanced than any other way of looking at this during the last 1,000 years. Droughts, famines, floods and plagues were all seen as signs of divine displeasure at human actions, and we are currently living in a time when such things are all occurring at increasing rates.” Ooooooft.
It’s undeniable that everything that is beautiful and nourishing about our world can already be seen from where you are, the sun, the sky, the clouds, the moon, the plants, trees, bees and birds.
I understand that working to connect with nature and the wider Earth may not feel important when we have ever-looming issues on grandiose scales, but I find smaller-scale steps like these can often have a massive impact in the long run.
Without the connection to our lands, we may find ourselves lost in the throes of the climate crisis, in the nitty gritty of carbon accounting and techno-modern solutions and forget what we’re really trying to save. Bringing ourselves back home to nature can recharge us, reawaken us, and revitalise our energies in the long, arduous journey of bringing the world back into balance.
P.S. If you enjoy my writing, you can buy me a coffee to fuel my work.
Inspirations:
Being Pagan: A Guide To Re-Enchant Your Life Rhyd Wildermuth
Savage Gods
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Lovely piece - thanks Isabelle. I was struck by your evocative quote from Paul Kingsnorth referring to how different he might feel if helped on inherited land which he expected to pass on to his children. The inner voice that I heard, rather starkly, was "well, Paul, why not start doing that now?". Obviously thats a huge ask and simplification, at least on one level. However, embedded in that sentence is the recognition of the institutionalised modern, reductionist identity that is promoted and rewarded as the default setting for the dominant culture's presentation of what it means to be a human being.
Unusually for Paul - and perhaps because its just part of a bigger piece - there seems to be an implicit acceptance that this state is unable to be changed. Simply practicing wholeness as a starting point ca be immensely powerful, both intellectually and, especially viscerally and emotionally. This does mean assuming that even the Birmingham Bull Ring is part of nature - and if theres any doubt, of course, a peep over the wall at some of Brum's amazing canal system (more canals than Venice!) will reveal all manner of natures vitality. But check out the moss under the edge of the wall by the car park building, or the blades of grass breaking through the concrete. David Abram (Spell of the Sensuous, I think) reminds us that just holding up our arm and feeling the drawdown of gravity can immediately align us with the en-awe-mous reality of which we are a tiny part. And which is constantly sending feedback about our place and potential within it.
This hits home! I live in what many people call an ugly city, but given that I live along the LA river, where we have so many birds and raccoons and egrets, I don't know I could move anywhere else! To have the best of urban living beside a natural (albeit encased in cement) habitat is a true joy. Plus, I plan on being here for a long time, and the river has plans for restoration of the natural habitat. Move here!! :)