How does nature genially help us on our way to inner peace?

I discuss why we feel good in nature and how we can elevate our feelings to the next level.

What can we learn from trees and the sky?

The other day, I had to take a short walk. It was cold, and I wasn't in the mood at all. Still, I was beaming by the end of my roughly seven-minute walk. And I knew exactly why. Have you ever had a similar experience without knowing how a short walk like this could have had such a significant effect on your mood?

I have a theory.

Walking between the ugly buildings on the concrete ground, I desperately tried to find something nice to look at. It was in the morning, the sun just barely started glowing up, and my exhales became foggy clouds in front of me. I looked up. The sky was gorgeous—the kind you instantly want to take a picture of. But I refused to take my phone out of my pocket because I didn't want to take my eyes off the clouds. They were pink and light blue, blown into pretty patterns by the freezing morning wind. It reminded me of a beautiful afternoon during summer when I was lying on a bench for about an hour, examining the sky above me, filled with gratefulness for being alive and being able to experience such a peaceful and lazy hour.

How can it be that such different circumstances brought the same feeling? I asked. Then it hit me. The only constant beside me was the sky. A human being admiring the vastness of space and the untouchable nature of ever-changing clouds. Ever-changing, yes. But they're always there. Well, most of the time, when the thick greys don't cover up all that beauty. And even then, the sky is still there. This is the secret. I started to smile ear-to-ear.

Then I looked at the skinny skeleton of the bushes near me. They're also always the same. And I could go back three thousand years, and they'd still be the same. Branch after branch, growing in a particular rhythm until they become tiny twigs. Then, when spring comes, buds sprout to become blossoms or leaves— always the same, always the exact same beauty, through thousands of years. Trees don't care about their look. Seasons come and go. Nature's flow follows them without complaining or giving a damn. The seed contains the whole tree already, as the tree contains the seed. Life shines through them because they don't have additional layers, unlike us.

We get these layers from an early age. Babies shine like trees. Then their parents cover them with different kinds of blankets; some with thinner ones, some with unbearably thick ones. Society carefully keeps the covers on and adds its own selection to the collection. By reaching "adulthood," we no longer recognize the light of life. At least not consciously. But when we walk out and lift our gaze to the airy magnificence, it fills us with this light to the brim. Just as when we hold a sleeping baby. Or when we unite in deep love and recognize it in our core.

Glimpses of this light keep us going, but often, we don’t even realize it. And whenever we spend too much time without it, we feel empty, alone, and tired. So off we go, searching for a new source.

Then, one day, we discover that we are like trees, only with thoughts. And yes, we're also walking around. Those two things often prevent us from experiencing stillness and noticing that we are also sources of that same light. We only need to lift all those layers to see it. And it's much easier to do so when surrounded by pure and naked aliveness, like in nature.

Once we experience this, it gets easier and easier to reach that inner source. Whenever we feel lost again, we look up at the sky and realize that being still in movement is the only way to stay close to it.

And that's the secret of nature.

Being the same while changing through seasons. Emitting the same amount of light by avoiding covers, blankets, and shields caused by thoughts. Ours and others. Seeing them as cute, short-lived clouds on the sky of our stillness. Letting go of them right when they form, knowing they'll dissolve into thin air again as waves dissolve into water. This is how my seven-minute walk opened my eyes to our oneness even more, and trees taught me how to stay graceful and beautiful in all circumstances, at least in theory. I'm still practicing.