The Answers We Find in Wild Places

In my previous blog, The Journey Within the Journey, I wrote about a concept introduced to me many years ago by the late Dr Ian Player. Ian spoke about how every journey through nature is really two journeys taking place at the same time: an outer journey and an inner journey.

The outer journey is what we see as we experience wildlife, landscapes, cultures, conservation projects, challenges and adventures that become our memories. The inner journey is less visible, and definitely one that comes from feeling in a safe space. It's our reflections, changes in perspectives and a deeper understanding of our capabilities that often stay with us long after the journey itself has ended. This is some of the best personal growth we can hope for.

Having just returned from South Africa with an extraordinary group, I found myself reflecting on this again during the trip, which is not unusual for me as I noticed the inner journey happening for people again. As a leader I have the privilege of watching both journeys unfold but what interests me most is how it happens and why.

It's the quiet conversations around the campfire.

It's the complete lack of conversation around the campfire as people stare into the flames and coals.

The moments of quiet reflection.

The gradual shift that takes place as people begin to slow down and settle into the rhythm of camp life in nature.

A person taking themself down to the river to ponder a while.

Someone sitting in a tree or by a waterhole in their own space and thoughts.

During this recent trip, I watched this journey happen and it led me back to a conversation I have often had with people, which is not about 'if' the inner journey exists, but 'why' this happens more powerfully in nature.

Why do wild places seem to affect us so deeply?

Why do quiet conversations become more meaningful around a campfire?

Why do people return home feeling changed, even when they struggle to articulate exactly what has changed?

Why is sitting still in nature and doing nothing perceived as wasted time rather than recognising it as an essential part of reflection, growth, and understanding?

I truly believe that doing absolutely nothing is something we need to do more often. In a world that constantly needs us to be busy, productive and connected, there is real value in simply stopping and slowing down.

I think a big part of the answer lies in the fact that this inner journey is not forced upon people. No teacher, leader, expert, or personal development coach has told them what they should feel, what they should learn, or how they should change, as it comes from the wild places themselves.

Personally I have always been wary of some so called experts in personal development who claim to know precisely how others should better themselves. There can often be an ego and arrogance in that world that makes me switch off very quickly. Nature has a remarkable ability to strip away distractions and asks very little of us, except that we are situationally aware and pay attention in a different way, and we really benefit from the fact that nature does not have a voice like ours and will not give opinions like we do.

An elephant does not care about our job title, or whether we have no job at all.

A river does not care whether we are wealthy or struggling, successful or looking for new direction.

A desert landscape could care less about our achievements, and is not concerned by our failures.

A night sky filled with stars will never judge our successes or mistakes.

The wilderness does not care whether we have experienced homelessness or live in a mansion.

Nature does not care what qualifications we hold, what car we drive, how much money we earn, how others perceive us, or who we fall in love with and why.

In wild places we are reminded of something that is easily forgotten in modern life. That we are simply human beings sharing a brief moment in a much larger story. Maybe we have lost sight of this because our attention is no longer drawn upwards towards the stars as it was for countless generations before us. Instead our gaze is often directed downwards towards our possessions, our ambitions, and the endless pursuit of what we think we need next.

Of course I understand this and that our families, friends, homes, work, and the things we love are all important. They give meaning and richness to our lives. I suppose the challenge comes when our pursuit of these things leaves no room to simply be present or is forgotten about completely in the education of young people.

Perhaps the answer about 'why' the inner journey happens more powerfully in nature lies simply in the fact that nature asks no questions of us but gives us plenty of space to discover our answers.

Angus