Mindfulness in Nature: A Path to Better Mental Health

 

In today’s fast-paced world, stress and anxiety have become familiar, leaving many of us searching for ways to rebuild balance. Mindfulness, a practice of focused awareness and presence offers a powerful tool to navigate life’s trials. When combined with nature, its benefits become even more profound. I want to explore, intertwining mindfulness with the natural world, how that can nurture mental health and uncover the scientific evidence that supports this.

What is Mindfulness?

‘Begin at the beginning’ said the King in Lewis Carol’s ‘Alice's Adventures in Wonderland’ so let’s first look at what it is we mean by mindfulness.

Mindfulness is the practice of being fully present in a moment without judgment. It enables and encourages awareness of our thoughts, emotions, and physical sensations, promoting a deeper bond to ourselves and everything around us. Originating in Buddhism, mindfulness has gained widespread recognition as a scientifically backed, therapeutic tool for mental wellbeing.

Jon Kabat-Zinn, a pioneer in mindfulness-based stress reduction (MBSR), has demonstrated its effectiveness in reducing symptoms of depression, anxiety, and chronic stress in his research. On his website he suggests

The Role of Nature in Mindfulness

Natures rhythms offer a perfect backdrop for mindfulness practices. Its ability to engage all our senses at once, grounds us in the present moment, making it easier to disengage from retrospective thoughts. The act of observing a butterfly in flight, feeling the crunch of the autumn leaves underfoot, or listening to the rustle of a reedbed in the late summer breeze instils a sense of calm and connection.

Spending time in nature is not only grounding but restorative. Biologist Edward O. Wilson coined the biophilia hypothesis which suggests that humans have an innate affinity for nature, and engaging with it can enhance psychological well-being.

The Benefits of Mindfulness in Nature

Combining mindfulness with nature amplifies the mental health benefits of both practices. Here’s how:

1. Reduced Stress and Anxiety:
   A 2015 study published in Landscape and Urban Planning found that participants who engaged in a 90-minute nature walk showed reduced activity in the subgenual prefrontal cortex, a brain region associated with deep thought. When paired with mindfulness, these benefits are enhanced as attention is drawn to sensory details of the environment, reducing mental clutter.
2. Improved Focus and Clarity:
   The smallest observations while immersed in nature, from the ripple of water, the contact call of a bird, or the sway of branches, naturally encourages mindfulness by presenting myriad stimuli. A 2019 study in Frontiers in Psychology found that forest bathing, or shinrin-yoku, improves attention and cognitive function.
3. Enhanced Mood:
   Published in Environmental Health and Preventive Medicine (2010), research revealed that time spent in forests significantly lowers levels of the stress hormone, cortisol and increases levels of serotonin, often styled the “happiness hormone.”
4. Deeper Emotional Connection:
   Mindful nature practices encourage us to feel part of a larger whole. This sense of interconnectedness combats loneliness and fosters emotional resilience. Studies in Ecopsychology highlight how nature-based mindfulness practices improve emotional regulation and foster positive social interactions.

 

How to Practice Mindfulness in Nature

You don’t need a dense forest or remote wilderness to begin. Here are some simple practices to integrate mindfulness into your time outdoors:

1. Grounding with the Senses:
   Notice the texture of bark, the sound of the breeze, the scent of wildflowers, the colours around you, and the taste of the air. Put simply, engage all 5 senses! This sensory awareness anchors you in the present.
2. Mindful Walking:
   Take slow, conscious steps, noticing each movement, how your feet make contact with the ground, the pace of your breath, and the flowing weight of your body.
3. Observation:
   Choose an element of nature a bird, tree, or flowing stream and observe it without judgment. In essence, remove your personal opinion from the equation and just notice the details: patterns, movements, colours, and sounds.
4. Breath Awareness:
   Sit in a natural setting and focus on your breath. Sync your inhales and exhales with the rhythm of the environment, such as waves lapping against the shore or wind moving through trees.
5. Gratitude Practice:
   End your time outdoors with a moment of gratitude. Reflect on the beauty you’ve experienced and its impact on your state of mind.

 

Peer-Reviewed Evidence Supporting Mindfulness and Nature

The scientific community has increasingly recognised the relationship between mindfulness, nature, and mental wellbeing.

• Mindfulness and Mental Health:
  A meta-analysis in JAMA Internal Medicine (2014) found that mindfulness meditation programs meaningfully reduce symptoms of anxiety, depression, and pain, with beneficial effects comparable to standard treatments like medication and therapy.
• Nature and Mental Health:
  A 2019 study in Nature Scientific Reports showed that spending at least two hours a week in nature is associated with improved psychological well-being, with participants reporting greater life satisfaction and reduced mental distress.
• Mindfulness in Nature:
  A study in Psychological Research (2021) found that mindfulness practices conducted in natural environments are more effective in reducing stress and improving mood than those done indoors, suggesting a synergistic effect between mindfulness and nature exposure.

 

Embracing Mindfulness in Your Daily Life

Mindfulness and nature don’t have to be reserv

ed for dedicated sessions. Small moments of awareness during a stroll in your local park or garden can make a significant difference. Try incorporating mindfulness into your ordinary daily tasks like gardening, birding, or simply sitting outside with a coffee.

Conclusion

Mindfulness and nature are a strong combination that, added to your usual routines, can transform mental health. Whether you’re taking a meditative wander through a forest or simply stopping to embrace the sunset, the practice encourages you to slow down, breathe, and rewire the relationship not just with yourself but  with the world around you too. The evidence is speaks volumes: nature and mindfulness together offer a restorative refuge in our increasingly busy worlds.

 

In the shadow of chaos

The following is a collection of thoughts I wrote following a panic attack I suffered at Bird Fair last year. My own insecurities borne from my ex wife's infidelity, mixed with alcohol and some silly comments from someone unseen, lead to the perfect storm in my head. I spiralled and found myself alone, admittedly by choice, as I didn't want to derail anyone else's evening. I fell deeper and deeper into my brains quagmire and experienced my first ever panic attack. I tried to capture the feeling of the experience for those who have been fortunate enough, not to have been through it before, I truly hope you never have to!

Since the event, I have undertaken a large degree of self reflection, I have embarked on a journey of healing via therapy and to a large degree, reduced my alcohol intake dramatically. I realise that my own insecurities and trauma lead to this and am determined to put those demons to bed forever! 

Please, never belittle a panic attack, it's not something that someone can just 'Get over" as I was told to do. It is irrational, it can't be helped and is 100% based on deep seated and often subconscious insecurities and genuine fears. If you know someone that suffers, reach out, validation and reassurance are basic human decencies in these moments and cost nothing. Ultimately, be kind!!!

It started as a whisper, a faint tremor beneath my skin, like a distant storm gathering on the horizon. My heart began to race, a wild, uncontrollable rhythm that I can’t slow down, no matter how desperately I try. Each beat felt heavier, louder, as if it was trying to break free from my chest. I felt its thudding in my throat, a pulse that tightens and constricts, making each breath shallower than the last. 

Panic gripped me before I even had a chance to name it, creeping up, slowly at first, until it swelled into a torrent that sweeps away all sense of safety. My mind, a blur, spinning too fast to catch a single coherent thought. I try to breathe, to ground myself, but it’s like drowning in open air. My lungs seize, desperate for breath, but each inhale feels thin, unsatisfying, as though the very air has turned to vapor and slipped through my fingers. My hands trembled, fingers twitching uncontrollably, as though my body has lost its tether to the earth. The world around me warps, sounds distorted, sharp and distant all at once, while light becomes too bright, too overwhelming. My skin prickles, flushed with heat and cold all at once. Every nerve feels frayed, exposed to the elements. I feel untethered, weightless, as though I might drift away into the void if I let go for even a moment. There’s no logic here, no reason. 

Panic isn’t rational, it doesn’t answer to words or thoughts. Instead, it surges through me like a flood, its current pulling me under, sweeping me into a place where nothing feels real anymore. My mind swarms with the impossible, with the worst-case scenarios that bloom unbidden, each one more terrifying than the last. My heart races faster still, like a bird trapped in a cage, slamming against the bars in a desperate bid for escape. My body curls in on itself, muscles clenched, as if trying to shrink from something unseen, something within. My chest tightens, pressure building and building until it feels like I might shatter. I want to scream, but the words are trapped inside me, stuck behind the lump in my throat. 

The world narrows, closing in around me, a dark tunnel where there’s no light at the end. Time stretches, warps each second feels like an eternity, and yet it’s over in a moment. The panic subsides eventually, not because I’ve conquered it, but because it has spent itself. I am left hollow, like a shipwreck washed up on a shore. My body, once taut with fear, feels drained, limp. My muscles ache from the tension, my heart still beats too fast, but it is slower now, the echoes of the storm retreating. But even in the aftermath, there’s a lingering fear. A shadow that tells me it will return again, unbidden, unpredictable. I am left raw, my mind buzzing with exhaustion. 

I close my eyes and breathe, the weight of it all pressing heavy on my chest. And yet, beneath the fear, there is something else. A faint whisper of hope so small, so quiet, I almost miss it. It tells me I have survived this storm before, and I will survive it again. Though the panic tries to isolate me, tries to convince me that I am alone, I know deep down I am not. There are hands waiting to pull me out of the dark, to help me stand when I no longer can.

Carried by the Wind: Lessons from the Shearwater Migration

Mid-August and I find myself sat on the rugged cliffside that supports the red and white tower of Pendeen Lighthouse, gazing out into the incomprehensible expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. I have come to witness an incredible yearly migration event. Today, Manx Shearwaters are passing this headland in a steady stream. At approximately 700 birds every minute, it was as if the sea itself was alive with birds dancing across the water surface, the sleek black and white forms cutting through the air with effortless grace. They headed south with purpose, skimming or shearing (as the name suggests) the waves on stiff wings, starting a journey of unbelievable magnitude that will see them cross hemispheres. Among them, a few Balearic Shearwaters. A close relation of our Manx but a bird of the Mediterranean rather than the Atlantic, they are duskier in appearance, not the crisp black and white of the Manxies. Fulmars pass by on their stiff, thin wings like miniature Albatross and the occasional small group of Gannets flapping clumsily in comparison to the refined beauty of the Shearwaters. But it was the Manxies that dominated the scope view, their numbers seemingly endless.

Just a few weeks ago, I'd experienced a panic attack at global Birdfair, an overwhelming flood of fear that had left me shaken and struggling to regain control of my thoughts. Because of this, I'd restarted therapy, trying to rebuild my mental well-being and deal with the root cause of my depression and anxiety, rather than relying just on tablets to mask the symptoms. Starting therapy was terrifying. It left my brain feeling overwhelmed and incredibly vulnerable. This is why I had headed to Cornwall. Some time for me to sit and take stock, A chance to be still with no other people around me. Sitting watching the seemingly delicate Shearwaters with the contrasting backdrop of the rugged North Cornish coast, I found something incredibly profound about the sight of their determined flight.

Manx Shearwater

The Manx Shearwaters had been breeding throughout the summer on remote islands around the West of the UK just North of where I sat, the windswept slopes of islands like Skomer, Rum and Bardsey. These places far from the disturbances of human life, provides safe Burrows for them to raise their young. They nest in the dark, hidden away during the day, only emerging undercover of night in order to avoid predators like Gulls and Skuas. With the seasons moving headlong into Autumn now, it was time to leave. Parents that have raised their chicks and fledglings that are headed off from the only place they have ever know so far, all taking to the air and following the instinctive pull of migration. These birds, which had spent the summer on the cliffs and islands of Britain were now embarking on a journey that would take them into the unknown, a pelagic odyssey that puts Odysseus to shame. 

Their ultimate destination was far to the South, in the rich, cold feeding grounds of the Argentine Sea where they would spend the winter months. It's hard to imagine the distance they would cover flying from their breeding grounds in the North Atlantic to the southern hemisphere. It's one of the most remarkable migrations, a journey they undertake every year, guided by instinct. And the pull of survival.

The significance of that journey wasn't lost on me. These birds were driven by an unbreakable connection to the cycle of life. To breed, to feed, to survive. They didn't question their path. They simply moved with purpose. In that moment, watching the birds disappear over the horizon, I found a parallel in my own struggles. I too had a journey to make. Therapy is my map helping me to find my direction again.

Manx Shearwater taking off

The rhythm of the bird passing began to soothe me. They moved in harmony with the elements. Wind, sea, sky. Carving a path forward with each passing wave. The steady flow of life moving past me without pause began to quiet the restless thoughts that have plagued me since the panic attack. My thoughts, which had felt chaotic and uncontrollable, began to fall into a slower rhythm, much like the birds themselves. 

Healing our minds is very much like migration. It's a long journey, sometimes arduous and with many different routes, but one that's essential for survival. Like the Shearwater, I need to trust the process to move forward, even if the destination feels a long way off. 

Watching them, I was reminded that while the journey might seem daunting, it's one I can make, one step at a time, guided by the tools I have, therapy, nature, and moments like these where I can find peace and perspective.

These birds weren't just passing that headland. They were showing me a way forward, a reminder that even in the face of overwhelming odds, there is a path to follow. And the strength to endure. In the presence of the Shearwaters, I felt a quiet strength, a strength that belied the birds diminutive size and appearance, and a sense too that I, could also keep going.

Dropping the Ball: Why Scrapping the Natural History GCSE Is a Big Mistake

Dropping the Ball: Why Scrapping the Natural History GCSE Is a Big Mistake

The government’s decision to pull the plug on the Natural History GCSE feels like a punch to the gut for anyone who cares about nature and the environment. To use the excuse that it was an initiative by the Tories from the last parliament was outrageous. This initiative got through despite the Tory opposition to it!! This wasn’t just another exam; it was a chance to inspire a generation to connect with the natural world and understand the challenges it faces. And now, that opportunity’s been tossed aside like a political football.

When the idea for the GCSE was first floated, it felt like a breath of fresh air. The plan was to teach kids about ecology, conservation, and the cultural importance of nature, a chance to make sure they actually get why the environment matters.

Jane Goodall rightly said: “How can we expect young people to protect something they don’t understand?” By shelving this qualification, we’re risking an even bigger gap between kids and the natural world at a time when we desperately need them to care.

Mary Colwell, who worked tirelessly to get this GCSE off the ground, shared her frustration with the delays before the qualification was shelved altogether: “The Natural History GCSE has been sitting in limbo… it is frustrating because we need it now more than ever.”

Why This Matters

Let’s be honest young people today are more aware of the climate crisis than any generation before them. They’re worried, they’re angry, and they’re ready to do something about it. But here’s the thing: passion needs to be paired with knowledge. Without an understanding of the how's and whys of the natural world, how are they supposed to make meaningful change?

The Natural History GCSE could have been a game-changer. It could’ve opened doors to careers in conservation, inspired a lifelong love of wildlife, or just given kids the confidence to speak up for the planet. Instead, the government’s decision feels like a message that nature education isn’t a priority and that’s a problem. Because if we’re not helping kids build a connection with nature now, how can we expect them to care enough to protect it later?

A Growing Disconnect

In todays tech driven world, many children spend a disproportionate amount of time staring at screens compared to exploring the outdoors. A recent survey even found that British kids spend less time outside than prison inmates!!

A whole generation is growing up unable to name common birds or trees, let alone understand the role they play in our ecosystems. A GCSE in Natural History could’ve turned that around, giving students the tools to engage with nature in a meaningful way. Instead, we’re leaving them to figure it out for themselves.

So, What Happens Now?

All is not lost, but it’s hard not to feel like this was a massive step backwards. There are still brilliant teachers, schools, and charities doing their best to weave environmental topics into lessons. And grassroots projects are helping kids reconnect with nature.

But it’s not enough. We need something bigger, something systemic. As Jane Goodall puts it: “What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.”

It’s up to all of us to keep pushing for change. Whether it’s lobbying for better environmental education, joining local conservation projects, or simply making sure the young people in our lives get to experience the joy of nature, we can all play a part.

The very best thing you can do, is email your local MP, push for change, be the change. Remember that government is supposed to work for us, if enough people raise their voices, it cant be ignored. Find your local MP here: Find your MP - MPs and Lords - UK Parliament