I spend a lot of time seeking out places where there’s no cell service, no traffic, no televisions, no people, and very little that resembles the world I normally live in. Instead, mine is filled with remote mountains, high altitude, wind, snow, rivers, and, sometimes, weather so severe that finding shelter becomes the priority.

One of the things I’m learning is that the longer I spend in nature, the more patient I seem to become with people when I return home.

That sounds almost too simple, but I notice it again and again after each expedition. Someone yells at me, and I’m more likely to let it go. A car cuts me off in traffic, and instead of getting angry, I might laugh. A potential client doesn’t return my phone call, and I’m less likely to make up a story about what it means or take it personally.

I don’t suddenly become a saint. I still get irritated and have bad days. There’s a good reason why I meditate daily. But the amount of space between what another person does and how I respond is different.

Gaining Perspective

I think nature gives us more room. When I spend enough time outdoors, especially in places vast enough to humble me, my own problems begin to feel more manageable.

On an expedition, I worry about what matters most in the moment: finding a safe route, getting enough water, protecting my hands from the cold, deciding whether conditions are safe enough to continue. But then I look up, and there’s a mountain in front of me that’s been there for thousands, perhaps millions, of years. The wind moves across it. Clouds form and disappear. Nature becomes a breathing, living entity, and I’m fortunate enough to witness and be a part of it.

The more time I spend outside, the more I carry that feeling of wholeness home. Nature slows me down. It gives me perspective. And that perspective follows me into ordinary moments of my day, including the moments when another person does something that would normally get under my skin. I can’t prove that a mountain can make you a kinder person; I just know what happens to me.

I find the connection between those two things fascinating.

Environmental Compassion

People talk about environmental compassion. We teach one another to recycle, protect forests, care about wildlife, and reduce pollution. Those things matter, of course, but are we also missing something else? I think learning to care about the natural world can help us practice caring more about one another.

When I’m outside, I’m reminded that I’m part of something I cannot control. Nature doesn’t care about my schedule. It doesn’t care whether I am having a good day. A storm doesn’t change its mind because I’m frustrated. That is humbling. And humility can be useful when dealing with other people.

The person who cuts you off in traffic may be having a terrible day. Someone who doesn’t call you back may be overwhelmed. Your colleague who snaps at you may be carrying something you know nothing about.

You don’t have to excuse bad behavior. Compassion doesn’t mean allowing people to treat you poorly. It means creating enough distance between their behavior and your reaction that you can choose what to do next.

I find nature helps me create that distance.

So, I have a simple prescription I’d like to pass along. Try to spend at least 30 minutes to an hour outside every day. Plant something in your garden. Walk around your neighborhood. Sit on a park bench or in the grass. Take a hike. Walk the dog. Eat lunch outdoors. Sit under a tree and leave your phone in your pocket.

The activity isn’t nearly as important as the contact. Give yourself enough time to notice what is around you. Over time, you may find yourself becoming slower to anger, more patient in traffic, and less likely to assume the worst when someone disappoints you.

I think as we become better at caring for the world around us, we’ll become better at caring for the people in it. That is certainly what continues to happen for me.