My brother and I would go out and build forts in the field behind our house. We’d outline the walls of the fort, with various pieces of nature we found, from sticks, to rocks, to (if we were lucky) a bush that was already in the ground. That made the best kind of wall.
We’d each take a “corner” and make a bed, usually out of leaves, or dry grass. Sometimes we’d bring a couple of towels out, to pretend those were our blankets.
We’d mark where the door was, and we had a special password that you needed to say if you wanted to come in.
We’d gather our “food” to make our dinner. Various plants, flowers, berries, and sticks were assembled on a plate. We’d pretend the sticks were french fries, a rock would be a hamburger. We’d go through a typical day of living in this house, adding as we went when inspiration, and imagination, hit.
In our minds we had built a castle.
Other days, we’d climb trees. I had my favorite pine tree, that if I climbed up to this one particular branch, that I would be able to wave to my neighbor Sophie, and elderly lady who lived next door. I can still remember the specific path I would take up that tree – first, put my foot on the bottom branch, then grab another one with my right hand and I’d hoist myself up to a rickety one in the middle where I’d quickly get up to the sturdiest of them all. The bark was worn off where my feet would go, as though to mark the path for any friends I deemed worthy of seeing this special spot.
When we got older, we moved, and our new house had a pond on the property. Cat tails, lily pads, and huge bullfrogs. In the summer time, we would run down the hill from our house and begin to explore. Each day, we were curious what we would discover next. We’d first scan the pond for any sign of life – usually some beady eyeballs just breaking the surface of the water. Sometimes they were little, and sometimes they were a little larger than we felt comfortable with. We would see how close we could get to the frogs before they ducked under the water. Sometimes we’d toss a small rock near them, to see if we could get them to jump. (Amazing how stoic those things can be when their world is getting “rocked.” #horriblepun)
In the wintertime, that pond froze, and early in the winter we’d test the ice to see if it was thick enough to finally walk on. There was a small stream that ran into the pond, where it met the pond, it never completely froze, so we knew not to go near that spot. Sometimes, we’d lie down and look through the clear ice, which looked black……and count the frozen bubbles we’d see – usually losing count after about 100. Other times, the ice was cloudy, and we couldn’t see a thing. We always wondered what lay (or swam) beneath that ice, and would make up stories of the creatures who dwelled in the mysterious abyss. Some days, we’d bust out the ice skates, and weave in among the dead cattails and skate in circles, as the pond was not that large, and paled in comparison to the rinks we grew up skating in. But it didn’t matter – this was OUR rink. Just for us.
We lived on over 4 acres of land, in the woods. There was so much to explore just outside of my door.
Near the side of my yard, was a huge blackberry patch – tons and tons of berries to eat all summer long.
I’d find wintergreen plants, and bring the leaves home and make myself some tea. And feel very proud of myself that I even knew to do that.
At one end of our lot, was a grove of birch trees. Sometimes I’d go just to sit among them, pretending like I was in some sort of enchanted winter forest.
I’d look out my bedroom window out at this small rock fence right outside my room, where a maple tree grew out from in between the rocks. There was always a family of chipmunks who lived there, and I’d sit on my bed and look out the window, a mere few feet away from them, watching them gather food, play around the rocks, and just be chipmunks. Every spring, they’d be back, and it was like greeting old friends.
By this time, we had Atari in our house (yes, am fully dating myself). We’d play it for a little while, but aside from when we first got it, it was a once in a while thing to do. While it was fun to play, it was not nearly as interesting as what was all around me. Video games were not a part of my life during the crucial first 6 years of my life, when the subconscious mind is developing it’s lens for experiencing the world. Instead of stimulation and entertainment coming “at” me, it instead, came “through” me, into the world around me. I’d explore based on what I was noticing, or was curious about, rather than waiting for it to find me.
Being out in nature is healthy, grounding and life giving.
Touching the bare earth with your feet is balancing to the endocrine system.
Vitamin D supports the immune system. Can’t get that when you are covered by a roof.
Fresh air is far healthier than indoor air.
Children with ADD/ADHD improve when exposed to nature.
(In fact, two years ago, I read a great book called “Last Child in The Woods” by Richard Louv, which details research that supports the idea that being out in nature is essential to a child’s physical and emotional health.)
Presence matters. Being in nature and exploring your surroundings is practicing presence.
Have you ever simply sat in nature, closed your eyes, and just listened? Try it.
The commercial embedded above says it all. And to me, was quite sad to watch. Yet we see it all around us all the time. If this resembles your house, or your child, it’s never too late to begin shifting this.
It begins with you.
Turn off your phone, and get outside with your child. Leave the phone in the car when you are out and about with your child (there is a reason we have voicemail after all).
Designate gadget free times for the entire family. Mealtimes, car rides, whatever works for you.
Start slowly if that seems too daunting, but START.