Skogluft (Forest Air). Jorn Viumdal

why I wrote this book.

      The Number 1 Reason: WE NEED TO UNDERSTAND EXPERIENCING A LACK OF NATURE IN ONE’S LIFE IS A PROBLEM.

      The Number 2 Reason: THIS PROBLEM HAS A SIMPLE SOLUTION.

      So the next time you feel a headache, fatigue, or a nagging cough, don’t dismiss it. It’s easy to disregard these vague symptoms—when we can’t pinpoint a reason for why we feel bad, we presume that we’re imagining our symptoms or that we’re weak. And that is why we assume that the ailments will disappear if we just pull ourselves together. That is why we feel the solution is a matter of willpower.

      WHERE THERE IS A WILL, IS THERE A WAY?

      Willpower is like a modern-day superpower—we say it can conquer everything from obesity to addiction, clutter to bad grades. If you have used willpower to overcome a bad habit or to teach yourself something new—congratulations!

      Willpower enables us to triumph over petty egoism and reach higher goals, for the benefit both of oneself and others. It gets us involved in issues that truly matter. And yes, willpower can also be put to such pursuits as competing with friends to see who can hold their breath underwater the longest, staying awake to binge-watch a favorite TV series, or scaling Mount Everest without oxygen. As fun or impressive as these feats might be, we could say that they take a lot of energy (or even waste it). The reverse side of willpower, so to speak.

      We also use willpower to force ourselves to do things that might be detrimental to our health. Does it make sense to “pull ourselves together” in order to survive in circumstances that are harmful, just to demonstrate that we can? Would you, for example, sleep on a bed of nails every night simply to prove that—well, I really don’t know what that would prove, other than that you have a lot of nails.

      Let’s look at another example. Suppose you’ve enjoyed a good night’s sleep. But by midmorning you’re nodding off. Yawning, rubbing your eyes, taking brisk walks to the coffeemaker, you stubbornly resist lying down and sleeping the rest of the morning away. At the end of a long, long day, you feel proud (because we all know that a person who can overcome tiredness has both good willpower and a strong character).

      But there might be a very simple reason why you feel tired or unwell. Your body is trying to tell you something, sending subtle messages like “The light in here is very poor. Is it evening already? Might as well take a nap,” or “This place isn’t good for us. Let’s get out of here.” When the message doesn’t get through, then it resorts to stronger methods, bringing on headaches, a feeling of lethargy, or bouts of coughing. You begin to feel a little stressed or unwell. And if you ignore these messages, you have again demonstrated a willpower you can be proud of. But at what cost?

      Think about using your prodigious willpower to some other end. After all, when you have to use great strength of will simply to accomplish a small task like staying awake, isn’t that a little like having to pay a fee every time you use your debit card at another bank’s ATM (I will do anything to avoid having to pay that fee, including going miles out of my way to find a bank that does not charge one.) And suppose the fee was as big as the amount you wanted to withdraw? Wouldn’t that just be a waste of money? Of course it would! And yet when it comes to our health and well-being, we allow this kind of energy drain to happen every single day of the year. The subtle yet powerful effects of this lack of nature forces us to make unnecessary and exhausting compensations to attain our goals.

      The simple method that takes care of this problem was clearly recognized by the ancient Romans: Life is better when you’re close to plants. Many of you are nodding your heads and thinking, “Oh, I wish I could spend more time out in nature. I wish I could be surrounded by nature the whole day long.”

      This is where the “recharging the batteries” argument comes in—the idea that we take an hour, a day, or a few weeks off in a beautiful spot in order to relax and replenish our stock of energy, which we then spread out through our everyday lives at work and at home. People refer to this all the time. Especially when talking about other people. (“Nina shouldn’t look so tired. She just got back from a vacation.”)

      When people say “recharge,” they think of it like filling up with a green fuel, like having a large reserve of nature that they can run on a little at a time through the days, weeks, and months that separate us from our next immersion in green. It sounds fantastic, and it really is—it belongs in the realm of fantasy.

      Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t imaginary that we benefit from a walk in the woods. And who regrets having been out in nature? The problem is that the effect does not last. You’ve had a lovely restorative break and you’ve dived right back into your day with great enthusiasm … only to find yourself drained of energy after a couple of hours.

      Perhaps, as you again sink into lethargy, you are already telling yourself the usual solution. Like the annoying chorus of a tune you can’t get out of your head you hear that repetitive little refrain: “Show some willpower!”

      Willpower works, no doubt about it. It helps us ignore our headaches, tired eyes, coughing, and more. But by using it we suppress the signals the body is trying to send us so that we can follow the short-term dictates of duty and responsibility. We can’t possibly lie down and sleep at our place of work, even if the light is so bad the body thinks it is night. We can’t possibly stop a task every time we get a headache. We can’t possibly go outside and breathe fresh air every time the air indoors becomes too dry or stuffy. We soldier on and carry out the everyday tasks demanded of us. Because we feel we must.

      Please, I am not suggesting that we don’t use willpower. Don’t ever just sit down and give up (or fall asleep under your desk—that would not do). But imagine that the first thing you felt when you entered a room at work or at home was not “Oh no, not another day in this place,” but instead “I really look forward to getting started!”

      Did you notice that? I wrote about what you felt when you entered a room. Whether your energy arrow points up or down is not a matter of personal choice. Even before you start consciously thinking, “Hmmm, the lighting is rather dim here,” or “The air is so stuffy,” or even that it’s too crowded or sparse, your body has already been paying attention and has made up its mind.

      SPACE DRAIN

      Your body is wise. Evolution has honed your senses into a razor-sharp analytical tool that needs just a fraction of a second to deliver an assessment of a situation. The forceful assessment “Get out of here” is still useful after millions of years of dodging predators and environmental hazards, but this course of action might not be a realistic alternative if the assessment comes in the middle of, say, delivering a PowerPoint presentation, negotiating a contract, or working through the umpteenth pile of laundry as a caregiver. But the fact that there are no obvious dangers present doesn’t mean that your body isn’t sensing something detrimental to your health. When the “fight or flight” response kicks in, being responsible bosses and coworkers and caregivers, we suck it up and pull on our energy reserves. Whether we want to or not, whether we feel “right” about being in whatever kind of environment is triggering the body’s response, we have to summon our last resources. Day in and day out.

      Suppose we didn’t have to pay this price. Suppose we were spared from making this kind of effort (just to accomplish mundane tasks at home or at work, much less to do what we dearly would like to do). Imagine feeling that your workplace or your home rejuvenates you. Imagine that your senses are reassuring you that you are in a safe, healthy place. You would have plenty of energy for living the life you want to lead. For your interests. Your job. Your children. Your friends.

      FACT: THE ENERGIZER BUNNY IS NOT A REAL PERSON

      There must be a better analogy for our energy levels than rechargeable batteries. When I hear people talk about “recharging” themselves, I’m reminded of the old joke about the miser who kept running in and out of his house carrying an empty sack. Why? To save money he had built his house without windows, and now he had to gather enough