50ish years ago, I ran down the hill across the creek and up the hill to Sara’s house. I had spent a good part of the winter in the loft of our garage reading Huckleberry Finn and I wanted to talk to Sara about it. Now that it was spring, maybe we could get out and have some adventures of our own.

Arriving at her house, we immediately fell into creating all stories of adventure that our 10 year old minds could dream up. But Sara was up to homework and couldn’t’ come out to play so I set off through the field and down the steep hill to the creek. There I perched on a ledge overlooking Crum Creek as I dreamed about a life where I could live day in and day out in the out of doors and on some big adventure. Why not? I had said to Sara, why couldn’t WE build a boat and sail along down the creek or river or whatever! As long as we were OUT and not IN it was all good with me.  I longed for a life outdoors and leapt at every opportunity to spend time there, listening, sitting, making p stories in my head, talking to myself, sleeping, adventuring, or just being. I dreaded the inevitable dinner time when going IN happened and I felt as if some life force had been suddenly shut off with a switch as soon as I entered the house. I loved my family and my home. I just hated the actual physical reality of being indoors. it felt small and trapped and dull and unnatural.

Years later, on a canoeing trip with some other college freshman in the Canadian wilderness, we were asked how we were feeling about going home in a few days after 3 weeks of paddling around in lakes, camping on islands and observing the wildlife. many said they were looking forward to seeing loved ones. But then a young man said something along the lines of “I am scared. I am scared of leaving this. and he looked up at the stars. I dread going back into “it” to people and cars and activity and civilization. Here, everything makes sense. I make sense. I see my place in the world. I understand it. I feel at home and comforted by the pulsing of the wildness around me.” a few of us agreed. We couldn’t bear the idea of re entering society. Of leaving that beautiful night sky filled with stars, drinking water straight from the lake and being surrounded by that which seemed to fill us with belonging, purpose, and the fuel to imagine.

Yes. Nature has it. It has the energy we crave. And it doesn’t have to DO anything in order for us to receive it’s benefits. It doesn’t have to be recharged or plugged in. It has it all already. All it really needs mostly is to be left alone.

So I want to encourage my patients and friends and family- to take two doses of nature and call me in the morning. Take a dose of nature like it’s exercise, or medicine, or food. And when you do, take notice. Does the breath move in and out more freely? Do your cells drink in the Vibe? Can you recognize yourself as a piece of the great puzzle of the universe? Take care of the piece. It’s important.