Chapter 1: The Healing Power of Nature

Have you ever had a conversation with a tree about the state of the world?

When the pandemic forced everyone into isolation, I found myself in the garden, pulling weeds with as much joy as the birds chirping nearby. As I watched the evening news, I felt a sense of detachment, witnessing the chaos unfold while I gazed at the serene green fields outside my window. For the first time in years, I slept soundly through the night without needing any sleep aids. How could it be that amidst widespread turmoil, I felt more at peace than ever before?

Anxiety has been a constant companion since childhood, first manifesting as a general unease with change and sensory overload, later evolving into panic attacks that left me fearing for my life. Various triggers fueled my anxiety, predominantly rooted in existential thoughts, sensory experiences, or social situations.

As I transitioned into adulthood, I sought relief through meditation, medication, therapy, and occasionally unhealthy coping mechanisms. My life improved, yet the anxious part of me persisted, albeit at varying intensities. The world always felt overwhelming—too loud, too busy, and too crowded. I had accepted a life of constant struggle against it.

At the pandemic's onset, my now ex-partner and I retreated to his family's quaint hobby farm in southern Quebec. In the garden, I found solace as I weeded, planted, and watered vegetables, even delighting in flipping leaves to uncover toads. Whenever the weight of the pandemic news pressed down on me, I would escape to the garden, touching a tomato vine. The sweet scent and vibrant colors grounded me, resetting my anxious nervous system.

I began to identify the herbs and weeds that thrived alongside green beans and eggplants. Many had medicinal properties, and some even enriched the soil by fixing nitrogen. Purslane, a beautiful succulent-like herb, grew among the potatoes. A Turkish friend shared that his grandmother always included it in salads; he was surprised to learn it also flourished in Canada.

What other plants grew nearby that my ancestors might have recognized? What foods and remedies had I overlooked in my quest for the more commonly named vegetables?

"In nature, we return to reason and faith." — Ralph Waldo Emerson

Emerson's words resonate. Beyond the incessant doom of the news cycle lies a world that moves slowly and gently. In that garden, my mind, body, and spirit reconnected with nature. I spotted a squirrel and tossed him a seed, playfully wondering his thoughts on the pandemic affecting the city. His silence reminded me that beyond our human struggles, countless creatures are simply living their lives.

In one of my favorite podcasts, For the Wild, a guest discussed the mundane necessity to persist despite pressing global issues. While the world locked down, we still needed to eat lunch. We had to work from home, yet outside my window, the seasons continued to shift, indifferent to our human troubles.

Nature operates on its own timetable; it's foolish to rush through life at twice its speed.

As my perspective shifted, I found myself mentally unprepared to return to an office environment. When the world began to open up again, I resisted the "pre-covid normal" by leaving my job and pursuing a career as an urban agriculturalist.

Instead of commuting downtown on crowded public transport surrounded by towering office buildings, my mornings transformed into peaceful bike rides along the river at sunrise. I greeted the red-winged blackbirds and spent my days with fellow plant enthusiasts, constructing raised vegetable garden boxes and teaching others how to cultivate and harvest their own food.

To my astonishment, my anxiety began to fade week by week. By summer's end, I hardly recognized the person I once was.

Each day unfolded at a natural pace, tempered by sunshine or refreshing rain amid the heat. There was always room to breathe. We worked in harmony with nature's rhythms—planting was impossible in a rainstorm, and gardening after dark was futile. Why do we rush against time? What are we hurrying for if not to save a life?

"Stress is a perverted relationship with time." — John O'Donohue

Engaging with nature alleviated my modern stresses. I realized many of the anxieties I had assumed were intrinsic were merely reactions to the socio-economic pressures of contemporary life. This realization echoed the insights of one of my favorite authors, Jenny O'Dell, who discusses the "time pressure illusion" in Saving Time. She illustrates how we impose time constraints on ourselves under capitalism and hustle culture. I delve into this and its detrimental effects in my series on the Cult of Productivity.

The illusion of time pressure diminished as I observed plants thriving at their own pace. My self-imposed deadlines began to feel less significant, perhaps even pointless.

Moreover, a magical transformation was occurring: my time spent in the garden, coupled with insights from various cultural perspectives on plants through podcasts, shifted my perception. I began to see plants not merely as resources but as entities with whom I could collaborate.

I began to view myself in relation to them, akin to a couple who silently reads the newspaper together. There’s a comforting mutual understanding, a sense of knowing that you support each other during difficult times.

Plants are like a nurturing grandmother, never judgmental and always ready to provide healing when needed. They serve as wise teachers, resilient against our human desires and greed.

"Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished." — Lao Tzu

As I surveyed my surroundings, I recognized a quality society often lacks: trust. Trees flourish as long as the soil remains fertile. Streams carve their paths, guided by the seasonal drop of leaves and the movement of stones. Everything in nature understands its purpose and fulfills it diligently. Streams don’t aspire to be rocks, and rocks accept that today's news will fade into memory over time, while they endure, aging gracefully through the ages.

It was a profound realization to discover that much of what I believed about my own mind was merely a response to modern living. I have a predisposition toward anxiety in our current epoch, but when I attune to nature, I reconnect with reason and faith; I rediscover my authentic self. I have carried this wisdom with me for two years, and whenever I feel anxiety creeping back, I remind myself to return to my true sanctuary: among the plants.

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Chapter 2: The Role of Gardening in Mental Health

In this video titled "Gardening Transformed My Life and Helps Me Fight Anxiety & Depression: Our Story (Talk @ OSU)," the speaker shares their personal journey of how engaging with gardening has significantly improved their mental health, offering a testament to the healing power of nature.

In "How gardening helped my mental health," the presenter discusses the transformative effects of gardening on their emotional well-being, highlighting the therapeutic benefits of nurturing plants and connecting with nature.