By Zach Goldberg
We’ve all been there.
On a deadline, constantly working, and frustratingly and inconceivably stuck. Brain fatigue sets in. The goal was to push through, slowly trudging up that hill like a real-life little engine that could.
“I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.”
And then we stumble. We fall back. That fatigue we believed to be a tiny bump in the road grows. With no solution in sight, we stay glued to our desks, hands affixed above the keyboard, staring blankly into the screen. Why isn’t this working?
“I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.”
But we are not engines. We’re not machines. And hell, even machines need to recharge their batteries, don’t they?
Humans certainly have to. And we unfortunately don’t do so enough. But sometimes we need a respite from the work. We need to clear the clutter and make room to build new imaginative connections, allowing the great ideas we desperately search for to come to fruition. We need to do these things, lest we burn out, which happens all too often.
In Japan, doctors prescribe short walks through the woods to help alleviate the mental stress of their patients. This form of therapy is called “forest bathing” or, in Japanese, “Shinrin-yoku.” Surrounded by the green and the beauty of nature provides many the relief they seek from the stress of work.
The process is meant to leave one feeling refreshed, regenerated, and renewed. Because when you’re walking through the woods or through the park or even on a tree-lined street, there is no routine. There’s no immediate goal. You’re surrounded and enveloped by nature. Your mind gets a break.
It may sound unproductive. We often fear if we’re not constantly working we’ll appear lazy and unfocused. But in this time, the mind is free to roam and explore. And when the mind is free to roam and explore, to clear the clutter and mental fatigue, that is when we will inevitably have our breakthroughs.
This starts by removing ourselves from our work. It comes from taking a step back from all of our lofty goals and aspirations. It sounds scary, but believe me… your work and your goals will be waiting for you when you come back. You can then begin to climb up that hill once more, maybe this time with all your wonderful senses just a little more restored.
Will you take this walk with me?
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