Last night amid roaring street and freeway traffic, I tried to pry open my truck doors while stuck underneath an off-ramp. I had the key, but I couldn’t get in. Why? Because one door was broken into in Berkeley, and the thief pushed the lock in and then took my used climbing gear. The other door simply couldn’t take the repeated freeze-slush-sun cycle of three Colorado ski seasons. It’s rusted and won’t budge. I don’t lock my doors, so I can get in and out of my truck. But while I was off meeting reps from Orion Magazine in downtown San Francisco, a parking attendant helpfully opened my vehicle, locked it and left, accidentally sealing me out in the cold underneath a freeway.
What to do? Think, but not well. Amid the lights, the cars, the continuous blast to the senses, there was no spot to rest my eyes or mind. So I called my sister.
A growing body of studies suggests that if you want to problem solve, just take a walk. But the type of environment that you walk in counts. Before certain cognitive tests, they asked participants to solve problems after either walking on a city street or walking in a natural setting, and the nature walkers performed better. Not only that, but walking in nature helps you solve emotional troubles, too. If you’re considering therapy, you might keep your cash and head for the hills. This falls under the category of obvious news. Thoreau, Emerson, St. Francis of Assisi and Tolstoy have long advocated the power of nature to heal humans both mentally and physically. But now, scientists have gotten into the game and documented the results. People think better, feel better and perform better after they’ve spent time in a natural place.
Under the overpass, I wondered how people make it in San Francisco. I even asked a couple of local writers that night, “How do you manage to get into nature here?” They said, “Oh, there is Golden Gate Park, and there is the ocean.” I shrugged my shoulders, thinking, it really doesn’t seem very natural.
California Oaks in Spring
And I can appreciate the city life; I lived in Buenos Aires for two months, the third loudest city in the world, because I love Tango, the burgeoning streets and the lively vibe. Still, after three weeks, I found the continual chaos overwhelming. I hopped on a plane for Bariloche, went backpacking in the Patagonian Andes and instantly felt better. Even though spray-painted rocks, plastic bags and coke bottles are the Argentine version of trail markers, I was happy to sleep on the ground and rise with the sun.
I managed to get out of SF last night, but only by mangling my key. Good thing the tow truck arrived late, when I was long gone. According to my hip urbanite friends, I live in the sticks, more appropriately, among the sticks. Maybe so, but I’ll take the distant call of a hawk and the smell of oaks and damp grass, as my daily greeting, in exchange for lack of culture. When I got home, I took the dog out among the crickets and sighing night breeze, and it was a sweet relief.
A special thanks to Dr. Sally Augustin for the references in this post.
Minerva's Moxie 