By Emily Cook
Editor’s Note: A version of this essay originally appeared in the July 2, 2020, edition of The Betsie Current. Reprinted by permission.
I think we can all agree that March through June of this year was a blur. Perhaps your sense of time remains foggy, even now, as the news continues to throw curveballs on nearly a daily basis. I know that things have been challenging for me.
The first week of March, I traveled to see family in North Carolina, a trip planned for several months. I was aware of a virus – that it could be problematic much further down the line. Five days later, I was on a half-empty plane back to Michigan. People did not interact and threw wary glances, nervous because COVID-19 was rapidly spreading and anyone could be a vector. Three days after returning home, I was told to work remotely; a month later, I was laid off.
It is easy to feel somewhat immune to the happenings of the world as we sit tucked away in Northern Michigan – a privilege that I whole-heartedly acknowledge as a white, middle-class woman with a solid support system. Despite my geographical location, I still felt desperately lost after being laid off. An already anxious person, I was no longer able to socialize with those who grounded me, and any established routine had dissipated in a matter of days. As John Steinbeck wrote in East of Eden: “It’s a hard thing to leave any deeply routined life, even if you hate it.”
In response, I did what I typically do under moments of stress – I headed for the woods. And the dunes. And the lake. My new routine was waking up with the sun, leashing my dog, Finn, and hiking in areas of superb beauty. I am even more privileged because my home base is Arcadia, only moments away from several natural areas. Finn and I would hike to Old Baldy in time to see the sun crest the dune over Lake Michigan. Other days, I would lace up my running shoes and head into the Arcadia Dunes C.S. Mott Nature Preserve. Sometimes, Finn would stay back for a well-deserved nap, while I rode my bike and spent time among the spring ephemerals and warblers.
The connection between one’s mental health and exposure to nature has always fascinated me. In recent years, many studies have supported the notion that even the smallest amount of time in green space can improve mental clarity and symptoms of depression. A study published in 2010 in the Journal of Social Science and Medicine went a step further and found that having a simple buffer of accessible nature within several miles of home can help a person manage stressful life events.
I would classify the last seven months as one, continuous, stressful life event. As someone who has always gravitated toward the outdoors, I was already aware of how good it made my brain feel. However, it was not until this year that I discovered just how much I personally relied on those daily ventures outside to ground me and quell the ever-rising feelings of panic about the status of my personal life and the state of the entire world. And I am not alone.
“Every time I put in the time and effort, even though that’s less often than it should be, I feel better. I breathe deeper, unconsciously,” said Katie Grzesiak, 33, a Traverse City apartment dweller who has been working from home since March. “I see a bird, a beetle, a bud, and I get excited about what’s happening outside. I still think about the hard stuff, the scary parts, the thoughts that make me furious, but I can have a new idea or move along more freely because I feel safer and more wondering than I do indoors. It’s an amazing change of pace for my body and my brain.”
Similarly, Jane Perrino, 34, of Frankfort, observed: “Spending time in nature is critical for me. In a world full of messages and agendas, nature does not impose itself upon its participants. I find that – especially when I’ve breathed fresh air and removed myself from the everyday cacophony – truly then I can think clearly.”
Other community members described time spent in nature the past several months as “soothing” and that it made them feel more “connected.” Several are growing their first gardens by taking advantage of more free time.
“Every time I work in the garden, I feel recharged and absorbed into the soil,” said Aimé Merizon, 60, of Beulah. “There may be so much going on in my head, but I am able to zen out and things simply drop away.”
If you are able, heed the words of those who have already seen the benefits – and the dozens of scientific studies – and head outside. Dig in your garden, hike through the forest, float down a river or simply stare at Lake Michigan for a few minutes.
It is impossible to predict what the rest of this year will look like and, as an obsessive planner and organizer, it is simply one more stressor to add to my personal list. I do know, however, that I will always be able to rely on a morning hike with my dog, whose blissful unawareness of anything except chasing chipmunks and new smells is the perfect remedy and a free source of therapy.
As one of my favorite poets, Mary Oliver, once wrote: “It is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.”
Emily Cook has been a native plant and invasive species educator. She and her husband, Joe Frederick, are in the beginning stages of starting a sustainable contracting and landscaping business which will cover northern Manistee and southern Benzie counties.
