“If I had influence with the good fairy who is supposed to preside over the christening of all children, I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life, as an unfailing antidote against the boredom and disenchantments of later years, the sterile preoccupation with things that are artificial, the alienation from the sources of our strength.”
—Rachel Carson, The Sense of Wonder
Like many, I was drawn to tramping (hiking) in New Zealand by the promise of epic scenery. I used to plod through bushy sections, impatient to get to the ridgeline and a wonderful, awe-inspiring view. My hunger for more kept me tramping, and I grew curious to learn about the environments I liked so much. I started with the names of birds and plants, which allowed me to see more than ‘bush’ on the way up a forested track. I found out how unusual New Zealand’s native species are, why that is, and what threatens them, and now everywhere I look in nature I see stories, some of them heartbreaking. I began volunteering in conservation and now have a greater sense of agency in the protection of the natural world.
I’m not claiming to be the next Jane Goodall. This is just my own experience of how one moment of wonder can spawn so many more, and shift perspectives for the better. It seems obvious that the earlier you're exposed to the wonders of nature, preferably with a devoted guide, the more likely you are to value it later in life. Some tentative studies back this up, though more are needed.
Of course, it’s possible to stand atop a mountain and feel unmoved, to watch a beetle crossing the trail and care nought. What you get out of any experience can depend greatly on what you bring to it. You might take a shallow approach, enjoying the easy thrills, or you can give your attention, mindfully becoming receptive to your surroundings. The latter choice is more akin to love, the former perhaps a one-night stand. I've borrowed this idea from Simone Weil and Iris Murdoch.
You don't have to go on a multi-day trip in the wilderness to practice attentiveness. Sit spots and forest bathing can help you develop a practice, rewild your perception, and learn to become familiar with seasonal changes. By opening up and softening your boundaries, you may even experience a sense of transcendence.
“We can experience union with something larger than ourselves and in that union find our greatest peace.”
—William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience
Transcendence is an idea that’s easy to disregard as ‘New Age’, but we’re fine with the concept of flow, of having our full attention captivated by an activity and losing track of time. We’re okay with losing ourselves in a good book or feeling that someone’s singing our life with their words. But feeling one with nature? That’s a little out-there.
Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs is a popular motivational theory, well used by big businesses. At the top of the pyramid sits self actualisation, which sounds like something any ambitious type might aim for. But Maslow later updated his theory, putting transcendence in the top spot – in his words, “the very highest and most inclusive or holistic levels of human consciousness, behaving and relating, as ends rather than as means, to oneself, to significant others, to human beings in general, to other species, to nature, and to the cosmos”. It seems to me that we could do worse than embrace transcendence as we seek to alleviate climate crisis and biodiversity loss.
Next: What is wilderness?