Are we living fresh-sealed for our own protection?

Man follows the earth.
Earth follows the universe.
The universe follows the Tao.
The Tao follows only itself.

Tao te Ching

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A frighteningly large number people live in Tupperware.

For too many of us, the longest time we spend outdoors on any given day is the walk across a paved surface from our cars to the door of the next building we want to get into. And we park as closely as possible to the entrance to avoid too much time in that wide open space. The only growing things we see are planted in carefully controlled structures and meticulously pruned. It’s a wonder we aren’t a planet of agoraphobics. Or maybe we are, and nobody notices.

We live in houses, work in office buildings, exercise in gyms. Much of the food we eat may never have seen the light of the sun – from animals raised in boxes to vegetables grown in green-houses to food chemically produced in laboratories. We are hermetically sealed in the modern age.

Perhaps it’s no coincidence that depression, anxiety, and social apathy are also on the rise.

As much as we try to avoid the fact, we are biological creatures. We are of the earth. The food we should be eating is of the earth. From earth we were born, to earth we will return. Why are we so afraid of our eternal mother?

I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to find that still, peaceful place within themselves without regularly making contact with the Source of all life. All the yoga classes and meditation rooms in the world cannot make up for ten minutes spent with your feet firmly planted in the sand or the dirt or the grass, digging your hands through soil, or wading through the waves or across the rocks of a river. Although our skies these days might not contain the purest stuff, a single lungful from outdoors is more refreshing than a day’s worth of breathing recirculated, artificially cooled, rebreathed air. The path to being “grounded” is as literal as they come.

Whether your goal is mental health, spiritual well-being, personal growth, or just a modicum of happiness, the first step to achieving it might be right outside your front door.

Try to spend a little time each day outside. Fifteen minutes will do. An hour is better. Rain won’t melt you. Snow won’t kill you, at least not too quickly. Heat may be oppressive, but there’s something healing about the sun on your skin. Bugs might be disgusting minions of the devil or the offspring of evil brain-melting aliens, but most of them aren’t deadly (so I keep reminding myself).

Ideally, outdoor time should be spent in as “natural” environment as possible. If you live near a natural water source, even better. Get your feet wet. Bend over and feel the water. Dig your toes into some wet sand or mud. If there is no river, lake or ocean in your immediate surrounding, find a path in some woods, or through a meadow, or on a hiking trail in the hills or mountains. Touch something living. Smell it. (Try to avoid poison oak because I don’t want that kind of guilt on my hands, but I’m sure a nice tree, flower, or fern will do.)

Now stop for a moment. Close your eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out. If you can, take off your shoes and feel the dirt under your feet. Plant yourself for a moment. See? You didn’t die!

If your neighborhood doesn’t border on some untamed wilderness, even a park will do. Walk on the grass. Sit under a tree and listen to the world. Run your hands along the bark and remember what “real” feels like. Bring a picnic of fruits and vegetables. Taste life.

If worse comes to worse, get out on your patio or deck and dig your hands into some soil by planting something in a pot. Tilt your head up to the sky. Look for a bird or a butterfly.

If you don’t even have a patio, at least walk around the block. I’m willing to bet that somewhere within a mile of your house is a living, growing thing. Go greet it. Check on it each day and see how it is doing. Are the leaves budding? Turning golden? Are there flowers? Is it dry? Give it some water!

If you can, find a place where your vision isn’t halted by walls or buildings, a place where you can look out over the rooftops or across a body of water until the world disappears into eternity. Look up at the stars in the night sky. Sit somewhere and watch clouds go by. Breathe. Feel your breath. Notice it.

It only takes about a week of communing with the Source to feel a difference in your life. Your posture straightens. Your breathing eases. Sleep is purer. It can be better than 2 glasses of wine. Almost. Unless the wine is really, really nice.

In the morning, I love to take my coffee and walk the two blocks to the beach. I’ll bring my kindle and read a while, and then just watch the boats going in and out of the harbor. It’s a magical time. You’d think I would do this every day, just because I can. Yet here it is, 10:00am on a Saturday morning, and I’m sitting on the sofa in my pajamas. I have a lovely deck not two feet away from me. I can hear my wind chimes singing back to the breeze and the sound of the ocean in the background and the finches laughing at the trees. The sun is shining, the cloudless blue sky is visible through the windows, and the cool air is beckoning me through the screen door, and still here I am. Sitting in my Tupperware house. Feeling anxious about everyday, worldly things. Ridiculous.

I think it’s time I went outside and visited my Mother.