THERE WAS A time early in my adult life when I felt cut off from who I knew myself to be. Fate… circumstance… cultural expectations… supposed financial realities… the strident conformist opinions of key ‘guides’ in my life… all of these factors (and more) contrived to keep me living a life that felt to me like a soul-crushing lie.
The impact of this inauthentic existence sent me spiraling downwards into anxiety and depression, and it was made even worse by the stutter I then had, and by the severe lack of self-belief this stutter led to. Because of it I was utterly incapable of expressing what I was feeling, had nowhere to express it even if I could have, and in any case didn’t even trust the validity of what I felt. I couldn’t even express it to myself. Deep down, I knew I was living a lie, but on the surface I believed what I’d been taught to believe: that I was the problem. It was my fault that I didn’t fit in. It was my fault that I stuttered. It was my fault that I longed with a passion for something I couldn’t have – wild nature. It was my fault that I longed to live connected to nature in a way that wasn’t practical. I had to be wrong. What could I, an arguably privileged suburban kid with no real experience of the world, possibly know? Society, with all its knowledge and experience, had to be right… right?
And so, for too many years, I attempted to fit in. I squeezed my square peg into the round hole that society seemed to demand. I smiled on the surface. I pretended all was well. But inside I lived in turmoil, feeling utterly trapped, seeing no way out. This is why, all these years later, I have immense empathy for every single person going through anything remotely similar, for everyone forced to be who they are not because of discrimination, or societal expectations, or any number of other reasons. I was fortunate, I found an escape. But my heart breaks when I consider those who cannot find a way out, those who cannot live the life they ought to be living, those who cannot be themselves.
Of course, compared to the struggles millions of people face, my struggle to escape a life I didn’t fit into must seem mild indeed, if not ridiculously self-indulgent. From a certain perspective, it even seems like that to me… and worse things besides. And yet, it was also very real at the time. That’s the thing about mental health, and about such struggles. Yes, there are always other people with bigger problems. Yes, there are entire populations going through far, far worse. But that doesn’t mean a smaller personal problem is invalid. If it is causing anxiety, it is valid. Don’t brush it off. Don’t bury it. Don’t let it fester.
Instead, approach it face on.
I was lucky, I was able to approach my problem face on. Or maybe it wasn’t luck – maybe it was choice. After all, I chose to quit the conventional way of doing things, chose to ignore the advice of my elders, chose to go on long, risky and ‘unprofitable’ walks. But whatever, whether it was luck or choice or something else, away I went… and I profited from it. My life became infinitely better because it confirmed that who I knew myself to be IS who I really am.
I found my place.
These days, I maintain my place in the world through several practices – one of which is what I call my ‘nature habit’. Basically, I make getting out into nature an absolute priority. I attempt to step onto the living earth every single day, even if only for a few minutes, and I also try to sleep in nature once every week. For sure, I don’t always succeed – sometimes life really does get in the way because as a husband and parent I do have other priorities. But, by and large, I succeed. Stepping into nature and keeping my nature connection strong means I stay connected with myself and keep myself strong. I stay balanced and centred. I live daily with awe, gratitude and perspective. And I stay happy! Happiness makes me a better human being to every single fellow human around me because of it – better for family, friends and strangers alike.
When people are given space to be their authentic selves the entire world is made a better place. To some this might merely seem like woke nonsense. But I don’t believe it is. I’ve lived it first hand. And I’ve seen it lived in others. I’ve seen and experienced the before, the after, and the knock-on effects all around. I’ve seen the good that can happen when those being repressed are granted space to be who they really are. The positive difference can’t be overstated.
So, if you know someone living a lie, do what you can to help them live their truth. And if you feel as though you are living a lie… don’t bury it. We have a duty to ourselves to be ourselves. We have the same duty to everyone around us.
This isn’t just about maintaining a nature habit, about staying connected to nature. Rather, it’s about maintaining a ‘true nature habit’. It’s about staying connected to oneself. Everyone has a unique, authentic, true nature. The world would be a better place if we all understood our own, and if we did all we reasonably could to live in accordance with it.
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THE PHOTOS IN this blog were all taken this year whilst out and about living my nature habit. As is probably clear to regular readers of my blog, I also have a photography habit, too!
One of my goals this year is to take fewer photos. The ease of digital photography has often led me to take a mass of photos, which isn’t negatively impactful while I’m out in nature, because photography helps me connect, it forces me to look and see what’s really there, but it is impactful when I return indoors, because processing and organising the photos takes time – time away from other more important tasks.
One big work task that I aim to focus on this year is my ‘writing habit’. I have a third book to write, another story I desperately want to tell. In recent years, photography has reduced my writing time. But I aim to make amends this year. And so, if my blog posts this year are fewer and shorter, and if my photos are less numerous, you’ll know the reason why. It will be because I’m forging ahead with the next book. I hope you’ll understand and forgive me for it!
But in the meantime, here are a few extra photos from this year’s nature habit so far…
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2025’s FIRST NIGHT out was a cold, frosty, foggy bivouac up in the foothills a few miles from home. It was wonderful! It took me back to the often damp and claggy hills of Britain. Home sweet home!
The second night out was a camp right at treeline at 11,750 feet after a short three-mile snowshoe hike. I dug a platform for the tent into a massive snowdrift that had formed on the lee side of a final stand of Engelmann spruce, and moved in. The view out the door had a five star rating!
My zoom lens picked out civilisation on the great plains far below. I felt utterly detached from it.
It was a fine spot for camp – but exceedingly cold. Overnight, the temperature plummeted to -7°F, -21.6°C.
Despite the cold, I slept reasonably well, waking only a few times to take in the sparkling moonlit night. Because of the gear I had, I was relatively well insulated from the frigid conditions. Although the tent was pitched on snow, I was kept off it by a groundsheet beneath the tent, then the tent groundsheet, then a thick foam pad, then a winter-rated Thermarest. Keeping out the freezing air was the two-layered tent, then my trusty (twenty-five-year old) down sleeping bag, then a bivvy bag around the outside of that, and then good thermals around the outside of me! Wrapped in so many layers I was able to stay warm… just. But I was happy it wasn’t any colder. -21°C is close to the lower limit of what my gear can cope with.
After a good sleep predawn light woke me naturally. I sat in the entrance, feet in the foot well I’d dug, watching dawn approach. Sitting still watching a sunrise unfold is one of the best uses of time known to humankind!
After a leisurely breakfast inside a now surprisingly-warm sunlit tent, I packed up my gear and snowshoed into the day. I found an unbroken route through deep snow back to the trailhead, and followed it happily, loving the softness of the snow and the life of the winter forest. It was ‘just another day’ in the life of someone with a nature habit.
But there was nothing ‘just another’ about it.
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