The power of lying in the grass
A couple years ago, in the middle of the 2020 lockdown, I decided to spend a night camping in our garden. I slept better than I had in weeks.
To give you an idea of how ridiculous that looked, my partner and I live in central London. We have a small garden, so cramped that there is really only one way to pitch a small tent. Once the tent is up, you can’t really walk around it without getting branches in your face.
As small as it is, the lockdown had pushed us to enjoy our garden to the max. And so, one night, after a typical evening — dinner, video games — I took my tent and my sleeping bag out of the camping gear box, and proceeded to camp in our garden.
We often think of the city as something separate from nature. We have to live it to “enjoy” nature. I think that’s such a weird concept. Nature is everywhere. And we are part of it. Connecting with our bodies, with our senses is connecting with nature.
In the garden where I grew up, I would often lie on the grass. Taking a nap, fantasising about being on an adventure. I remember lying still, totally present to my body, focusing my senses intensely to follow the journey of an ant crawling on my skin. Whenever I think about being one with nature, this is the memory I think about.
In our modern life, many days can go by where I’m only living in my head. Dealing in ideas. Having meetings on my laptop, reading, watching videos.
But when I was camping in the garden, lying on the earth, I felt completely aware. I could feel the cold air on my face and warmth of the sleeping bag. I could smell the grass and hear the city around me, alive with noises. Cars speeding in the distance. Foxes fighting in a nearby garden.
By sensing things in the moment, all the anxiety I had been carrying just faded away.
It put me back in my body. At one with nature. Part of the earth again.
