Issue link: https://nest.uberflip.com/i/1264850
In natural areas, we also get a good mea- sure of space, a feeling of the world as big and wide. During the massive Western wild- fires of recent summers, the choking smoke and darkened skies forced millions of peo- ple indoors and left many of us feeling like digital shut-ins. Above all, this crisis is char- acterized by an even more intense feeling of claustrophobia (at least for those of us who aren't grappling with layoffs or illness). Evacuate? Where would you go? Suddenly, there is no away. Maybe our misery is compounded by the things our isolation brings up. Down our daily distractions, we're forced to think about the unpretty feelings we've tried to avoid. Our own shortcomings, the doomed relationships, the people we miss, our am- plified anxiety—it's all quarantined inside, right there with us. Our only escape is in the hearts and Hap- py Birthday messages written in chalk on driveways. The painted rocks placed in yards. The teddy bears perched in windows. The 8 o'clock howl. The evidence that we're all in this together, even if we're not together. But even in a viral pandemic, what nature provides is a space apart. That is, a place (mostly) beyond the human-built. On a hike or a beach stroll, you rarely have to worry about touching metal or glass or plastic. No matter the landscape, you'll be in the open air. Get outside and you can get a cure for the quarantine's claustrophobia. Plus, touching soil and earth has been shown to have immune-system benefits—consider it a virtuous side effect. We all know by now that this is serious business. It is a global pandemic that has desecrated the economy, locked up billions of people in every crevice of the globe and may kill hundreds of thousands (best-case scenario) before it's over. When you need a little extra strength and soothing because