I just finished reading Richard Louv’s The Nature Principle. It’s one of the most constructive and inspiring looks at our need for nature, not just as children (as in Last Child in the Woods) but every bit as much as adults, too. There’s a really wonderful quote about the risks vs. the benefits of being out in nature:
From the backyard to the backcountry, nature comes in many forms. The negative impacts of the risks that do occur in wilderness (from large predators, for example) should be balanced by the positive psychological benefits of that risk (humility, for one). And yes, most research on nature and human health has focused on pathology and natural disasters, but this preference by researchers has something to do with where the research funding comes from. Researchers looking at the health benefits of nature are, in fact, addressing a knowledge imbalance. (Louv, 2012, p. 52)
I am 33, and I am of the last generation of children who got to play outdoors unfettered, for the most part. Between helicopter parents, overzealous lawsuits, and stranger danger, kids these days are more and more discouraged from venturing outdoors–and this is in the safest, quietest neighborhoods. Adults, too, fear the risks. Television shows, even those on channels that are supposedly nature-friendly, often focus their reality-TV-flavored shows on the biggest, scariest, and most dangerous animals as something to fear and control, not wonder at. We’re a long way from Wild Kingdom. Newspapers and stations pick up stories of isolated incidents of hikers being attacked, and so then everyone (especially women) questions whether the trails are safe. This completely ignores the fact that the overwhelming majority of wilderness experiences are positive and without any danger beyond, perhaps, a bit of mud or a brush with a nettle. Good news isn’t good news for the news-makers, though.
The problem is that if we scare people away with all the doom and gloom of risks, however unlikely, then no one ever gets to enjoy the benefits, to include the benefits of taking risks. Some of my most memorable hikes were ones that had big challenges, things that could have gone very wrong if I hadn’t been careful (and prepared) at the time. Some of those hikes, though, also saw me being a novice trying something new for the first time, and even though hiking up Dog Mountain with a storm up top wasn’t as safe as, say, a leisurely stroll to Multnomah Falls, the experience of nearly being blown off the trail (and learning when to turn around) was an important lesson. Even more, though, I felt a great sense of victory, not over the mountain, but as a tiny being who managed to learn a little more about how to live with that mountain, however, briefly. That was my positive humility–not kowtowing before the spirit of the mountain because I am just a lowly worm of a human that deserves to be crushed, but the humility of being a very small part of an integrated system of mountain, flora and fauna, and weather patterns on that day. I felt closer to the world as a whole because of feeling closer to that mountain and its companions. (This isn’t even including the general benefits of being outdoors, some of which I outlined in my last post here.)
I can safely say for myself, then, that the benefits have far outweighed the risks. When I was young, one of my wilderness places was almost entirely destroyed. For years afterward I felt disconnected and depressed because of this; the anchor I’d had in that place was gone. It wasn’t until I discovered paganism as a nature religion in my later teens that I began to rebuild those connections. It took a lot of time and effort, and yes, I took a lot of risks, not just in physical trips outdoors, but socially, culturally, and spiritually. Every risk I successfully faced was one more victory, an additional benefit to the positive experience itself, whether I was hiking or camping, or learning something new about the path I was walking.
We can’t protect ourselves from everything, nor should we. Every risk we successfully take gives us strength to face the next, and in the event that such risk-taking goes badly, we’ve built up resources to help us deal with it and even come out ahead. Risks connect us more deeply to ourselves, as well as to the world around us. That, I feel, is a benefit well worth taking a chance on.
I completely agree – although we should think carefully about risks, especially on a personal level. As a disabled person whose joints dislocate easily, I’d be an idiot to get stuck on the side of a mountain alone because I listened to the people who are always telling me to push my own boundaries. On the other hand, there are ways for all of us to take calculated risks and enjoy the benefits. Great post!
Oh, absolutely. I wouldn’t scale Mt. Hood’s peak because I don’t have the skills for that level of climbing, but being able to test my limits reasonably, and train for more skills to push them further, is definitely a bonus!
I turned 60 this year and your post brought back a memory from my childhood, speaking of playing outdoors and taking risks..I hope you don’t mind if I share it here. My younger brothers and I used to play “down by the river” as we called it. I saw this place years later, as a mom, and I couldn’t believe we used to play down there. lol We used to sit on the old dam watching the water flow by…this was maybe 50′ above the water. We spent many hours and days playing down there. we would lie on the sun warmed pine needles (remember that smell?) and gaze at the bright blue sky. One day we walked the trail longer than we had ever dared and what we came across was breath taking. A waterfall flowing across the path….the stream it made on the path was at that time narrow enough to jump across without getting wet…the water fall was the height of a two story building maybe a bit more. Being the normally cautious big sister, what made me insist that we climb the waterfall I will never know lol. I don’t mean beside it…there was no way to climb beside it, it had to be up the center of the waterfall…we took our shoes and socks off and tied them together and carried them over our shoulder. We dared to climb up the entire way to see what was up there. It was a sight I will never forget it was the most magical, most holy place I have ever been in, saw, witnessed whatever words you want to use it was. I can’t even begin to describe it. We sat there for hours he and I just drinking in the beauty of the place. This was our secret place and we never shared it with anyone until many many years later. We walked along the brook and came to a field that is hard to describe…This field our walk took us to was covered Lady Slippers…I don’t mean a few, I don’t even mean a few hundred there had to have been thousands of these flowers in all colors, mostly pink but there were few yellow and green ones also. As far as the eye could see it was a sea of pink. I can’t tell you how it made me feel and I surely can’t tell you how it made my brother feel but we still talk about it. The point to this story was to say if we hadn’t taken the risks we did we never would had discovered this beautiful place. Sad ending though, I received an email from one of my brothers telling we that it’s all gone every bit of it…they tore it all up to build homes. I told him I don’t want to remember it any other way than the way I have described it here…the magical place of my childhood. thank you for letting me tell my tale. Blessings always.
Oh, that sounds like such a beautiful place! I’m so sorry it was destroyed; my own childhood wild places met the same fate. Here’s to preserving wild places for later generations!
Once again your words are full of insight and revelation! I too remember playing in “the woods” outside our back yard.We would be gone all day with our friends, playing “house’ making mud pies, catching crayfish from the creek, marking turtles with finger nail polish and letting them go hoping to identify our new friend over and over again. We ran in the neighborhood until you could hear the mom’s yelling “like fish wives” (my mom would say) for kids to come in for dinner and we would eat fast so we could get back out there and catch fire flies, or continue to sled down the snowy hill. Yep, I got pin worms, scraps, broken wrists, lost, hungry, etc. but what a great learning experience it was. Thank you for this post and it is a very very sad time that we no longer feel safe in Gaia’s Garden! Blessed be and much love!
I have a lot of similar memories, minus the broken bones. I still keep that wildness in myself as well; I hike all over the place solo, and I try to have at least a few new adventures every year
I feel so much grief that people, and especially children, don’t spend time outside anymore. Long hours alone in the woods or on the banks of streams as a child made me who I am, and I treasure those experiences.
I strongly support programs that get kids outside. Summer camps, scouts, nature-specific programs, etc. I don’t have kids of my own, but if I did they’d be out hiking with me!