Even as someone who regularly preaches the many virtues of time spent in nature, feeling out of place in nature reminded me that nature is not a cure-all, it is not a guru and it can’t fix us.
I recently saw a clip from Burden of Dreams, a 1982 "making-of" documentary film which follows director Werner Herzog on location in the Amazon jungle while making his film ‘Fitzcarraldo’. In the clip, he describes the jungle he is standing in, “Nature here is violent…I would see fornication, and asphyxiation, and choking. And fighting for survival, and growing, and just rotting away." I wonder if Herzog experienced the jungle through the lens of what was his notoriously problematic film production, plagued with problems including awful accidents. Perhaps his perception was truly what he saw, an unbiased interpretation. Either way, I think it is fair to say he was not enchanted by the jungle. He went on, “taking a close look at — at what's around us, there is some sort of a harmony. It is the harmony of overwhelming and collective murder. But when I say this, I say this all full of admiration for the jungle. It’s not that I hate it. I love it. I love it very much. But I love it against my better judgment.” Wow. The montage of visuals makes for an even more disturbing scene, I must say. You can find it here.
Herzog does have a point however, nature can be violent and frightening. No more than us. We are equally, if not more violent and destructive. What Herzog does and perhaps what disturbs in this unusual scene, is that through his view of nature he holds up a mirror to ourselves. His feeling towards the jungle seems so entangled in human narratives. It is as though his words are more telling of his state of mind than the jungle itself.
Herzog demonises nature but our usual reflex is to romanticise it. We ascribe our own meaning and interpretation to our experiences with nature. There are no doubt themes and lessons in particular places that are long-held and understood by many. There are ways of being and relating to nature that are balanced and respectful, indigenous cultures understand this. In our modern lives and through our individualistic lens we fail to see the full spectrum of nature, we look past its ferocity and inequity and in doing so, we fail to see the same qualities in ourselves. We by-pass.
We seek refuge and escape in nature because we see its beauty, we want to feel delight in its presence. We want to see flowers, to hear birds sing and take pictures at lookout points. But what does it mean when we don’t feel good in nature and it doesn't match our expectations? What does it mean when we are confronted with ourselves in a place that is “supposed” make us feel good?
Last week my partner and I went to a place that has become something of a retreat for us. We discovered this walk during the pandemic lockdown. We return each time with the same sense of reverence and excitement to discover something new. It is spectacularly beautiful. Plants, animals, trees and insects abound. Each time we visit, we walk away refreshed and renewed. We drove there last week, not with any sense of intent to go to this place in particular, we just sort of ended up there. Without much communication, we arrived and bundled out of the car, almost surprised to have arrived there. We had set off without a plan for what was a bright, sunny and blue-skied morning. We felt as though we should be out but we were hopelessly unprepared.
I was fighting the last ravages of a cold and while I wanted to be in the sunshine and longed to be outside, I felt nothing short of grotty. I felt a growing sense of disconnect with each step I took, and on top of that, an inner conflict grew. How could I feel sad and disconnected in this of all places? It was supposed to be a special place and there I was, feeling miserable in its company. My eyes stung with tears and sunscreen as I turned to my partner to admit defeat. Defeat against viruses and notions of perfect walks.
I’d expected my mood would magically change in light of the location as it so often does when I spend time in nature. It was so oddly disjointing to be somewhere I associated such positive emotion and feel such a disconnect. I was not enchanted, and it felt so terribly sad. An unravelling occurred as we walked back to the car and drove towards home. Naturally, nothing I felt was remotely related to a loss of connection to place or a disenchantment. I had unrealistic expectations that being in nature. I felt that place would bestow me with some sort of supernatural nature spell, banishing my lethargy and blues. Instead, its beauty made me face what was wrong and accept that I wasn’t feeling ok.
I cried, we talked and realised I was exhausted and the notion of a bushwalk was madness anyway. After a lengthy supermarket shop, some painkillers and some medicinal chocolate, we made our way to yet another favourite spot. This time by the sea. Feeling slightly better, I adjusted my expectations of miraculous nature healing. I felt crappy and was finally resigned to it, and yet, I wanted just a little moment in the fresh air. I found myself pottering over the rock platform and marvelling at the colours in the sky, on the rocks, in the rockpools and on tiny seashells. I took photos and watched the moonrise and felt calmer and more relaxed than I had felt in days. It was as if the afternoon of existential angst amid the trees hadn't just happened.
There are hundreds of scientific papers supporting the healing benefits of nature, it can help us feel good, physically and mentally, of that, there is no doubt. But there is no instantaneous nature cure. There is no cure for our humanness and all that entails. Jon Kabat Zinn says, “wherever you go, there you are”, and even in the depths of nature we can’t escape ourselves.
Natures notes is proudly written on and inspired by Dharawal Country. I recognise the Dharawal & Wodi Wodi custodians and ancestors who have an enduring connection to land, water and skies.
Always Was and Always Will be Aboriginal Land.
I'm vulnerable to this type of occurrence as well. You find a thing you like a lot, and then one day it doesn't "do it" for you. Relationships are similar. You want to find the person who will be your "everything", but "Man cannot live off bread alone". We are multifaceted beings. Which sucks because there's always the ideal of finding the one thing we can inexhaustibly interact with in order to feel better.
Of course, once we do that, we're interacting with that thing due to the extrinsic motivation of feeling good, rather than appreciating what it is for itself. Perhaps we can appreciate things only once we accept that we can't feel good all the time? Even with something as powerful, and beautiful as nature? Alas!