The Gift of Presence: A Natural Prescription for Tech Fatigue
Nature therapy.
Oh look—a chicken!!
This has become my unintended mantra of late. Some days it feels like having the attention span of a goldfish. That’s about nine seconds, in case you were wondering. There is debate about whether or not attention spans are growing shorter, but it does seem like it’s becoming more and more of a challenge to stay anchored in the present moment.
Perhaps it’s because the world has become an incredibly noisy and distracting place. Whether digital or face to face, there is always something demanding our attention, endlessly bombarding the senses to the point of overload. Much of it comes from being within constant earshot of our smartphones, and the vibration setting is no less intrusive. Some have labeled this “tech fatigue.”
Despite my husband and I banishing our phones from the bedroom a few years ago, my device still clamors for attention all day long. Don’t even get me started on the overabundance of great shows being released whole seasons at a time—with writing so phenomenal they are just begging to be binge-watched. We are slowly being rewired to live with an instant gratification approach to life. After a while it gets exhausting. We’ve made ourselves continuously available to personal technology and the ultra-customized media experiences that come with it—and not available enough to ourselves. And maybe that’s why some of us find nature so appealing.
Florence Williams points out that in general, we don’t experience natural environments enough to realize how restored they can make us feel. I am fascinated with the effect nature can have on our wellbeing, and interested to know what others experience personally when immersing themselves in nature—even if just for a few hours.
I had the good fortune to spend a recent morning in the woods, leading a small group of women on a yoga hike. It was a gorgeous morning, too: warm but pleasant, sunlight filtering through the tree canopy as countless birds sang us sweet songs of melodies pure and true. (My favorite song of his, if you get the reference.)
As I guided this group of lovely souls through the woods, I gently encouraged their attention to their own simple observations—what they were witnessing personally in this natural space. To me, it looked like fifty glorious shades of green and brown dappled with morning sunlight. It smelled like the slow progress of life under the tree canopy on a warm morning in June. And it sounded like peace. As each woman in her own way connected more fully with the sights, sounds and smells of the environment, a beautiful group dynamic emerged, creating space for meaningful conversation among relative strangers.
Yoga and meditation in the woods.
In the end, I asked how they were feeling, and received dreamy smiles and replies of bliss. Mission accomplished.
If being indoors mainlining electronics puts us in a state of tech fatigue or sensory overload, then immersing ourselves in nature acts as a soothing restoration of those senses and a vital detox of our frazzled nervous systems. It brings a critical and much-needed balance to all the time we spend in structured spaces, cut off from fresh air and natural light, glued to various screens. We step away from digital eye strain (if you are using your phone in the great outdoors for something other than snapping pics or getting unlost—you’re doing it wrong) and lack of movement for a moving meditation that invites all the senses to participate more fully, and to do so in a healthier way. It invites us to be more present for this moment, and the next moment, and then the next.
Perhaps we have strayed so far from nature that it’s calling us home.
I get outside and into the woods as often as I can because I know it’s good for my soul. The restorative powers of nature have never been lost on me. It reminds me of the inherent beauty and simplicity that is right in front of my face, if only I take my phone out of my face long enough to see it.
Despite being distracted by chickens on a regular basis, I know I can practice coming back to my experience of this moment again and again. Gradually it brings me back into focus. And I relish any excuse to get outside, breathe fresh air, use all of my senses, and remember how thankful I am for these simple gifts.
What happens when you go device-free for a few hours? What are the unexpected gifts you discover when immersing yourself in nature?
“In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks. ”