Psychology Today
Nature can cool the mental “stew” of everyday irritations, whether through forests, parks, or a few plants at home.
Nature Gets You Out of Your Head
Author: Lybi Ma, Hara Estroff Marano
How to stop stewing over small infractions of life.
We are genetically and evolutionarily predisposed to like all things living — what biologist Edward O. Wilson called “biophilia.” By simply sitting among trees and taking in nature’s awe-inspiring splendor, we can feel the flow of life. Nature changes our brain for the better.
Research published in Molecular Psychiatry found that the amygdala — the part of the brain that processes fear and stress — is less activated in people who live in rural areas. A separate survey of nearly 20,000 subjects found that a person can feel benefits after spending just 120 minutes a week in nature.
Studies of forest bathing, or shinrin-yoku, show that walking in a forest lowers cortisol, pulse rate, blood pressure, and sympathetic nerve activity. And according to social psychologist Gregory Bratman, embracing the wonder of nature can lower the heat of the mental stew we create by ruminating over life’s small infractions.
We don’t have to trek in the Tibetan plateaus to welcome these advantages. Even tending an indoor garden, potting plants for a windowsill, or sitting under a tree in a city park can offer meaningful health gains. Nature reminds us that our world can be a magnificent one and that our day-to-day grievances and petty annoyances need not define our lives.—Lybi Ma
The Write Stuff
I am a writer. I make my living as a ghostwriter and also write fiction under a pseudonym. I have a small group of close friends and a wider circle of more casual friends. Occasionally, one of my more casual friends (my close friends know better) will ask me to read something they have written, most often about a relationship they had or some experience from childhood—something private. They say they want feedback from me as a writing professional. But I’ve found that most people feel hurt by honest feedback. I don’t know how to be insincere, and I don’t want to ruin any friendships. How can I discourage friends from putting me in this position, and what can I say to one particular person who is actually very nice but has, on several occasions, asked me to read things they’ve written? So far, I’ve just lied and said I was too busy with one project or another, but I hate myself for the lie.
As a professional writer, I feel your pain. As an advice columnist, I understand—it’s a very delicate situation, balancing truth and friendship. And congratulations for not wanting to lie. It’s corrosive to your sense of self, even if your friend never knows.
Let’s start at the beginning, with the word. Because words are a common currency, people think writing is easy. Actually, typing is easy. Finding the precise words to describe an experience so that someone can understand it exactly the way you hold it in your head, with the right emotional tone, is a wholly different enterprise. It takes skill and practice. Writing well—harnessing not just the meaning of words but their sound and the rhythm of pacing to convey the message and propel a reader forward—is hard work. Most people underestimate the skills that go into crafting any kind of story that is coherent, informative, and compelling enough to finish.
That doesn’t mean their efforts at writing about their own experiences have no merit. In fact, it is invaluable for people to write about their experiences if only for personal consumption. It’s a way of understanding themselves, knowing what they actually think and feel, and often lights a way forward. Further, as psychologist Jamie Pennebaker has demonstrated in many different contexts, plumbing your deepest thoughts about a distressing experience relieves the emotional burden so measurably that it improves immune system functioning, among many other benefits to physical and mental health.
That information is worth conveying in your situation. I have found that doing so works pretty well. I usually say some version of the following: I’m a professional writer and editor, and I’ve been doing this so long that I only know how to judge writing intended for publication. But that’s not the only kind of writing that has value, and I do not want to discourage you. There is a reason that many people maintain a private journal. Writing about your own experience is necessary for your own consumption. It helps you define yourself and your way in the world. No one is in a position to judge that. Besides, I’m terrible at mixing personal and professional perspectives. Feel free to adopt and adapt any part of that for your own use.
The Wrong Stuff
I receive an increasing number of personal and professional emails that are clearly written by AI. I have no desire to engage when the email is written by an LLM. How do I get that across?
Well, LLMs are here and, to a greater or lesser degree, you do have to accept their output from others in your professional life. But your reaction is worth passing along to the upper echelon in your company—you’re hardly the only one needing the human touch to get inspired, and no company can long endure if people are disengaging from its messages. Of course, you don’t have to abandon personally writing your own professional messages. Not only can doing so be catching, it can silently get your preference across. Add a note to your standard signature stating that you respond only to personally written messages. There’s no reason why you can’t add the same note to your personal emails, too. You then don’t have to confront anyone and suffer through their awkward denials that “I only use AI to check my spelling.”
Credits: TCA, LLC.