Anja Murray: Time in nature is such a powerful antidote to feelings of frustration and helplessness

Purple flower heads of Devil’s-bit scabious bobbing at the edge of Gougane Barra lake. Picture: Anja Murray

After a late bout of summer heat and sunshine, I’m inclined to feel a little glum about the return of the endless drizzle and the shortening days. For many of us, finding the time to fit outdoor excursions in nature into the weekly routine is not so easy either. And as September’s busy schedule sets in, there’s a sense of being hit extra hard by the realities of rising emissions, climate chaos and the rapidly unravelling stability of natural ecosystems here and across the world.

Glancing through Twitter, I see the latest figures report that Ireland's greenhouse gas emissions have risen by 17% between the last quarter of 2022 and 2023, and are now twice that of the average EU citizen. While emissions rise, more and more people are accepting that radical change is needed, urgently. A recently published Eurobarometer poll shows that 78% of Irish people consider climate change to be ‘a very serious problem’ and that the Government is not doing enough to tackle it. I read last week that a whopping 60% of wild birds here are red- or amber-listed as ‘Birds of Conservation Concern in Ireland’.

We humans have an innate emotional affinity for other living beings. Our growing awareness of the extent of their demise can be deeply upsetting. The frustration of our collective inability to cope with climate change, too, and anxiety concerning the future of later generations, can at times feel overwhelming.

Sustaining hope in the face of so much bad news is an ongoing challenge. Yet it is essential that we do. Succumbing to cynicism and negativity stifles our ability for creative thinking, whereas nurturing the seeds for change and recovery maintains the undercurrents of our potential to turn things around. To do this, we need to mind our own mental health, individually and collectively, and find ways to strengthen emotional resilience. For me, immersing myself in the light, colour, sound and wonder of wild things is the only way I can keep digesting the data, keep tuned in to the details of what’s happening in the world, and find ways of responding appropriately.

There is a growing body of psychological research showing how spending time in natural environments and interacting though the senses of sight, hearing, taste, touch and smell can improve sleep; lower blood pressure; reduce stress; and lessen the incidence and severity of disorders such as anxiety, depression and substance abuse. And I find, over and over, that spending time in nature is a powerful antidote to feelings of frustration and helplessness.

Patterns made in a bramble leaf by a ‘leaf molly’ — the leaf-mining larvae of a micro moth that lives only inside bramble leaves. Picture: Anja Murray

Right now, even if we don’t have space in our schedule to go on big outdoor adventures, there are so many simple things to see and do in the outdoors, without necessarily having to travel far. Sweet juicy blackberries are ripe and abundant now. Slowing down on walks to pick and eat these little treats is one of my favourite simple pleasures in life. Sometimes I notice stunningly patterned silver-washed fritillary butterflies soaking up the autumn sunshine among the bramble leaves, or see the patterns made in leaves by ‘leaf molly’ – a micro-moth whose larvae tunnels inside the layers of the bramble leaves, growing as it goes, leaving an intriguing pattern in its wake.

Standing under the canopy of an oak tree, looking up through the characterful curving leaves, fissured bark and twisting branches overhead, filtering light and air, offers a special respite from the world ‘out there’. I love the special quality of light beneath an Oak tree in leaf, and smile at the sound of unseen screeching jays among the canopy, trying to catch a glimpse of their stunning blue feathers as they prospect for hazelnuts and acorns soon to ripen. I imagine they must be mindful of the bounty of nuts they must gather up and store if they are to survive another winter.

Wandering mountain paths at this time of year lifts the spirits too, as September sees a variety of bell-flowered purple heathers blanketing peaty slopes. Bursts of bright yellow petals from autumn gorse are startling in their cheerful contrast with the purple heathers.

All across wet waysides, the bobbing flower heads of devil’s-bit scabious speak of the summer not yet gone. Peering into the delicate detail of their purple petals can be wonderfully absorbing. Zooming out to watch the way their rounded globes move on long stalks in the breeze is a form of ‘soft fascination’, a term that psychologists apply to the easy attention on gentle movements in nature that have been shown to have a soothing effect on our brain and nervous system and enhance cognitive wellbeing.

Looking out over a lake, there are dragonflies still out on the wing. Last weekend I watched as several pairs of vivid orange dragonflies were mating by the edge of a lake, dipping up and down above the water, absorbed in their reproductive pursuits.

These are the kind of experiences that help me to feel delighted with the world, despite the very present reality of ecosystems everywhere unravelling. Time exploring wild places replenishes my capacity to cope. Feeding my enchantment is what keeps me connected, curious, and able to remain engaged in the many battles to advocate for the rights of nature.

Each of us has a personal duty to fight against cynicism and despair. Cultivating wonder and continually augmenting our knowledge are essential, in my opinion, to keep hopeful and positive about the possibilities for our future.