Walking In The Wild

How nature is changing my 60-year-old brain

On top of Lookout Trail, Montreat, NC

A few weeks ago, I cut my antidepressant dose in half. I had attempted to taper off the drug several times in the past few years, but was inevitably reduced to a quivering mass of raw nerves and had to re-up my dose to the level my brain was jonesing for.

But not this go round. My nervous system hasn’t registered any difference since I’ve dropped down to half my regular dose. When I mentioned this to a friend back in L.A., he suggested that my time spent in the wilds of North Carolina might have something to do with my new-found equanimity.

Psychiatrists will tell you a long walk is “nature’s mood stabilizer.” The rhythmic shuffling causes bilateral stimulation, which helps balance your left and right brain activity. Something similar happens in EMDR — a therapeutic intervention that aids emotional processing and trauma resolution — and, in fact, the founder of EMDR, Francine Shapiro, discovered the protocol while taking a walk.

In 2015, a group of psychologists investigating the negative effect of urbanization on mental health published a study that showed walking in nature reduced the flow of blood to the part of the brain that causes rumination — in their words, “a maladaptive pattern of self-referential thought that is associated with heightened risk for depression and other mental illnesses.” For those of you who have ever loitered in a 12-step meeting’s church basement, you might instead call this affliction “stinking thinking.”

To decrease that pesky neural activity in your subgenual prefrontal cortex (sgPFC), take a 90-minute walk in nature; a 90-minute walk through a concrete jungle doesn’t have the same effect. Experiencing the outdoors is so impactful that even a window view of “greenspace,” report researchers Bratman, Hamilton, Hahn, and Gross, has been shown to boost memory, attention, and positive mood, while lowering impulsivity.

Given that moving is one of life’s top stressors, yet my cross-country relocation has resulted in less stress, I have to credit my improved mental health to my time spent walking in — and even looking at — nature.

You know who else is happier since moving to the North Carolina mountains? My cat. That formerly clingy, clawing, meowing feline spends the bulk of her day curled up contentedly in her cat bed, gazing through the window that looks out on to this:

Once a day, I let her outside to stretch her legs. She’s not known for her athleticism, but even a brief stroll around the deck does wonders for her anxiety.

I spend a lot of time walking in Montreat. There are trails galore, and one of the most popular ones in the area, Lookout Trail, is just a 10-minute walk from my cousins’ house. The ascent is only half a mile, but it’s steep, and you have to scale some rather treacherous rock face before you reach the spot where you can do the actual looking out. If you start obsessing about your problems and get distracted, you might kill yourself, which is maybe another reason nature walks keep you from ruminating.

My cousin Sandy and I hiked the trail last Friday morning. We beat the crowd and got the lookout perch all to ourselves. Sandy pointed out her parents’ home — where I’m staying — in the distance.

If you’re considering the federal witness protection program, you might want to check out the neighborhood

Walking through nature harnesses all your senses and plants you solidly in your environment. Here in Montreat, the omnipresent whoosh of the creek, the smell of early spring blooms, the interplay of soft earth and rough stones beneath my feet, the taste of fresh raindrops, and the sight of gnarled tree roots spreading out like tentacles have rewired my brain. I am less fixated on my worries, and feel more moments of peace knowing I’m part of a larger system. Intellectually, I knew this before, but I didn’t experience the connection as palpably as I do in The Blue Ridge Mountains’ spiritual vortex.

Elizabeth Path, Montreat, NC

“People who feel connected to nature have greater eudaimonic well-being — a type of contentment that goes beyond just feeling good and includes having meaningful purpose in life.” - Journal of Happiness Studies, 2019

My old college buddy Gina lives across Lake Susan from me, and sometimes we rendezvous there for a walk. The animals come a-runnin’ when they see Gina because they know she brings peanuts and soothing words.

Gina and Dirty Jack

A textile artist, Gina creates animals that are, I swear, half real. She bases them on local fauna with whom she has relationships. Here she is talking about her squirrel friend, named for a certain Dickensian character who angled for more gruel.

“Oliver comes to my door promptly at 8 a.m. and stands on her hind legs. Then she puts one hand over her heart — and if I don’t immediately notice her she will put both hands over her heart. So I’m well-trained to give her peanuts when she begs.” - Gina Wilde

Here is the real Oliver:

And here is Gina’s likeness of her furry pal:

If you’re in the market for lifelike knitted critters, check out Gina’s Instagram

Earlier this week I went to my friend Peggy’s house for a drink. Unlike some places where people want to know what you can do for them before they decide if you’re worthy of their friendship, Montreat is built on a different social fabric. Here, you just have to be someone’s fourth cousin, and you’re in. So when I mentioned to one of the other guests that I was free till noon most days due to working with west coast clients, she asked me for my number so we could get together for a morning walk. Montreat is tiny enough that you can throw a stone and hit just about anyone’s house, which makes meeting up for a walk that much easier.

I’ll miss the ultra-close proximity to friends and hiking trails when I move to my West Asheville apartment in May. But I’m excited to have my own place so I can host out-of-town visitors. And you know what else I’m excited about? The balcony has a forest view.