By Jennifer Weeks, a Boston-based journalist and former senior editor at The Conversation U.S. Her articles have appeared in Audubon, Slate, The Boston Globe Magazine and many other outlets. Originally published on Undark.
Humans have turned to nature for solace and revival for centuries, without knowing exactly why it makes us feel better. “It is not so much for its beauty that the forest makes a claim upon men’s hearts, as for that subtle something, that quality of the air, that emanation from the old trees, that so wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit,” Robert Louis Stevenson wrote in the mid-1870s. But what is that subtle something, and why does it affect us so profoundly?
In “Nature and the Mind: The Science of How Nature Improves Cognitive, Physical, and Social Well-Being,” neuroscientist Marc Berman brings the data, drawing on his own research and work by other scientists into the psychological and physiological ways in which spending time in natural environments improves human well-being. He starts by recounting a 2008 study that he conducted as a graduate student with his advisers at the University of Michigan.
The researchers gave subjects challenging memory tests, including one called the backward digit span task, in which they would hear a list of up to nine digits and then try to repeat them in reverse order. After completing the tests, the subjects took a 2.8 mile walk either through downtown Ann Arbor or in the university’s leafy arboretum, and repeated the tests. The urban walk did not measurably affect participants’ scores, but walking in the arboretum improved their performance on memory- and attention-related tasks by 20 percent. Looking at pictures of either natural or urban scenes produced similar, although somewhat weaker, results.
“Other studies had asked people how they felt after time in nature, but none had ever quantified nature’s impact on our cognition using objective measures,” Berman writes.
In Berman’s view, attention is a central element of cognition. He sees directed attention — the ability to choose what to focus on and filter out what’s less important — as a critical human capability. “Instead of knee-jerk reactions we may regret, directed attention allows us to pause, consider our intentions, and respond to people and experiences with measure,” he explains. “It keeps our flashes of anger from becoming violent behavior” and “keeps us on task when that’s what we want.”
And modern society, with its plethora of distractions — especially the digital economy and social media — has made attention “the World’s Most Endangered Resource,” in the words of political commentator Chris Hayes, author of the recent book “The Siren’s Call.” Businesses that want our attention — and the user data that comes with it — are churning out web-based products and services designed to keep us online and engaged, and, in some cases, away from their competitors.
For Berman, the founder and director of the Environmental Neuroscience Laboratory at the University of Chicago, this trend is worrisome because directed attention isn’t just a vital ability. It’s also a limited one, and can easily become depleted as we multitask, juggle work and family needs, and try to tune out tech-based noise. “Today, we’re pushing our directed attention to a breaking point,” he warns. “We’re getting distracted when it’s not necessary or adaptive, and our very ability to maintain our important relationships and live meaningful lives is at risk.”
Berman sees hope in a concept called Attention Restoration Theory, developed by University of Michigan psychologists Rachel and Stephen Kaplan, that posits nature as an answer to directed attention depletion. The Kaplans saw natural stimuli — think of leaves rustling on tree branches, or clouds drifting across the sky — as fundamentally different from manmade signals, like cell phone alerts or billboards. Nature’s sights and sounds engage a kind of thinking the Kaplans called “soft fascination” that doesn’t take up all of an observer’s attention. When you sit next to a flowing stream, you can listen to the water splashing and also let your mind wander more widely. That experience, the Kaplans hypothesized, offered an opportunity to replenish our directed attention.
The 2008 “Walk in the Park” study was an early empirical test of attention restoration theory. Its results were encouraging, but raised more questions for Berman: How much restorative power did time in nature have? How did it work, and how could it be applied?
In a follow-up study, Berman and colleagues recruited participants who were experiencing clinical depression and had them carry out the same memory tasks, followed by the same walks. Before the walks, the researchers prompted their subjects to think about something negative that was bothering them, to put them into the mode of repetitive negative rumination that characterizes depression and saps directed attention. Participants who took walks in nature showed even greater cognitive gains than those in the original study.
“It felt like discovering a fifty-minute miracle — a therapy with no known side effects that’s readily available and can improve our cognitive functioning at zero cost,” Berman writes. The results echoed findings by scientists at the University of Illinois who discovered that when children with ADHD spent time in green outdoor settings, they showed fewer attention-related symptoms afterward compared to others who spent time in human-made spaces. In one study, children with ADHD showed attention performance improvements after a walk in a park that were comparable to the effects from a dose of Ritalin.
Another notable aspect of Berman’s findings was that people didn’t have to like nature to benefit from it. Participants in the walking studies didn’t always experience mood benefits, but they showed clear attention-related improvements. “Good medicine doesn’t always taste sweet,” Berman observes.
Another area of Berman’s research examined which features of nature provided these benefits. Through several studies that asked subjects to rate photos of natural and built settings, he and his colleagues found four key qualities that people considered “natural”: abundant curved edges, such as the bends of rivers; an absence of straight lines, such as highways; green and blue hues; and fractals — branching patterns that repeat at multiple scales. Fractals can be generated mathematically, but they also occur throughout nature, from tree branches to many snowflake designs.
“Natural curves and natural fractals are all softly fascinating because they can balance complexity and predictability,” Berman writes. “They’re not so complex that they’re overwhelming, but not so predictable that they’re boring. Instead, they live in a kind of active equilibrium, like a churning waterfall or a burning campfire — things humans tend to find particularly softly fascinating.”
Using artificial neural networks — machine learning programs that may make decisions in ways similar to human brains — Berman and a doctoral student found that scenes with more natural elements were likely to be less memorable to humans than urban scenes. This suggests that it takes less directed attention to process natural stimuli. When we look at something like a tree with a huge mass of leaves, we don’t zero in on each individual leaf and analyze its features. Instead, we throw away a lot of the repeated elements and focus on the key features, such as the tree’s overall shape, mass and colors. This leaves us with more brainpower for other tasks.
These observations have implications for design — not just for those of us who can easily add plants and natural materials to our homes, but on a larger scale. One ongoing focus in Berman’s environmental neuroscience lab is combining brain science with urban planning to improve the designs of cities and towns. He argues that access to nature should be seen as a human right, rather than a nice perk, and that it’s especially important to provide more green space in cities, where the majority of the world’s population lives.
“If we don’t investigate the increases in individual and societal health that nature can offer us — if we just go on a gut sense that nature is good — then only the wealthiest among us will continue to have consistent access to the ways nature can keep us healthy and safe,” he asserts. “Meanwhile, poor and marginalized populations will continue to lack access, and worse, be told (or shown) that nature is not for them.”
While Berman is clearly frustrated by our tendency to underestimate how much we need nature, there is a strongly optimistic thread running through his highly readable and jargon-free account. Humans, he reminds us, “are not who we are by individual factors alone — we are who we are because of our environment and how individual factors interact with environmental factors (such as nature) to shape us.”
“And science,” he concludes, “shows that cultivating access to green space changes minds in ways beyond our wildest expectations.”
Good stuff thanks Conor.
My meditation teacher often used to tell us to just “enjoy nature” as a practice. One of his rationales was that trees don’t have right angles (unlike our ugly human constructions), and thus the brain’s overactive pattern-seer switches off. So just gazing at nature relaxed our brains and nervous systems.
> an absence of straight lines
Our back yard is an edible landscape with Japanese garden aesthetics. It’s come to fruition this year, and the back perch has a sliding door for a window, full view. If you sit in the directors chair on the north side, the sightlines let you see everything, over and through the woods and bamboo, into the catbird tunnel and watching the legs of passersby in the alley, who cannot see you in return.
The middle chair is lower, and when you sit in it you see a wall of green. What little of neighbors houses seen are broken up by leaf and branch. The ancient laundry pole has a small mulberry vectored in front of it, you can’t see the garden table and work area to the south. I can sit and let the clouds work, throw some seeds to the chipmunks and cardinals that ask. Completely chill. No straight lines.
“One ongoing focus in Berman’s environmental neuroscience lab is combining brain science with urban planning to improve the designs of cities and towns. He argues that access to nature should be seen as a human right, rather than a nice perk, and that it’s especially important to provide more green space in cities, where the majority of the world’s population lives.”
It’s always interesting to see yet more confirmation of the notion of man as still being part of nature and not separated from it.
There’s 4.5 billion urban dwellers globally who can only benefit from this kind of work.
But there’s a lot of wheel re-invention going on here.
It’s been known that the urban heat island phenomenon is profoundly affected by the presence of city green spaces and tree lined avenues for over half a century. My climate tutor – one Prof Tony Chandler – was the main innovator in the mid 60s.
This has more recently morphed into city climate change adaption policies through greening – a basic principle of urban planning for some years now.
The original work of Patrick Geddes, pioneering city planner and the first ‘landscape architect’ of the industrial age, automatically integrated green spaces like parks and gardens in his city design to enhance urban well-being all his professional life (1890-1930), not only to promote that connection to nature but also he was a committed early ecologist believing that those “green lungs” improved densely populated urban areas, filtering pollution.
And of course, they do, even if there is still highly destructive urban planning such as the infamous Sheffield Chainsaw Massacre.
Between 2014-18 Sheffield CC contracted Amey to fell and “replace” 17,500 street trees, many of which were healthy.
The programme was titled “Streets Ahead” – apparently with no irony whatsoever.
It was part of a £2.2 billion road maintenance PFI – so mostly serving corporate profit – and sparked large scale public protests, folk occupying trees to prevent felling, various arrests, and then community legal action.
There is no doubt the felling was unnecessary and harmful to the city. An independent 2023 inquiry found Sheffield council’s leadership to be dishonest and eventually forced them to issue a belated public apology. It does show that people do care about greened urban environments and community agency still exists.
In this context the use of Trump’s urban troop deployments to clean up Washington’s parks and gardens, mulching trees and picking litter is an unintended but welcome consequence of his militarisation policies. There’s 8100 acres of green spaces in Chicago that might similarly benefit from troops with 47 monogrammed leaf blowers. …… Make America Green Again ?
Geddes work was then paralleled by Ebenezer Howard’s Garden City movement with a comparable emphasis on sustainable green urban dwelling from the late 1890s onward, which owed much to the social reform and ownership agenda of the Arts and Crafts movement. Then there is that frequent citation that 40%+ of Russian food production is/has been grown in dacha gardens, many/most of which are urban or urban fringe.
The concepts of both Geddes and Howard have fed into the recent rediscovery of well greened urban villages by the 15 minute city movement, also providing huge scope for climate change cityscape adaptation like that taken up in Paris – which is an amusing ‘volte face’ considering the grand design car centred thinking of Corbu and Parisian 60s and 70s large scale urban ‘renewal’.
Then we have Christopher Alexander’s Green Streets and Accessible Greenspace proposals integrated within his 1977 “A Pattern Language” – a design manual which ought to be compulsory reading before course entry to all architecture, urban design and planning, and community development programmes.
Ran across this earlier, seems relevant: https://www.lawyersgunsmoneyblog.com/2025/08/you-cant-walk-your-way-out-of-disability
Of course “nature” takes in a huge variety of environments and perhaps ‘imprinting” plays a role in all this. I love trees because I grew up in a neighborhood full of them. Those who grew up in Western US landscapes may prefer all that open space.
At any rate the above ideas definitely resonate in many fields other than psychology. Architecture comes to mind.
I think having a natural space at your disposal is like having a superpower; in dealing with the modern stresses of knowing the world of mankind is a festering pile of shite.
I am fortunate to have a chunk of woodland with elevations, rocks, water and trees…. and all the life that comes along with it. This mini forest is a place that is only minutes away from the “real” world, but being in it feels like another time and place. Nature makes you aware of how trivial and temporary we are. It is good to know we are not the source of anything. We do not have “control”. But we do share a connection with The Source, with everything.
And then coming back out to the world…..where; it just is what it is.