More Than Peace & Quiet.
Why Nature-Based Therapy Matters More Than Ever
Still water and birdsong. A quiet moment by the water in one of my favourite places for walk-and-talk therapy.
But the benefits of nature go far beyond peace and quiet. They tap into something much deeper, both personal and evolutionary.
When I was working on my psychology thesis, which explored biophilia and emotional responses to environmental uncertainty, the psychological impacts of climate change were starting to be studied more widely. A few tools had been developed to measure eco-emotions, but the emotional weight many people were carrying still sat mostly outside the mainstream conversation.
What I saw then and what feels even more true now, is that this distress wasn’t just about the science or the future. People were grieving what was already being lost. In the face of constant images of disaster and a relentless tone of urgency and hopelessness, many began to feel disoriented, numb, or shut down. That pervasive sense of hopelessness can cut people off from their capacity to act, from their relationship with nature, and from any meaningful sense of agency.
This is where the biophilia hypothesis offers more than theory. It proposes that humans have an evolved preference for natural environments not only because they’re calming, but because for most of human history, they were essential to survival, belonging and wellbeing. This instinct remains within us, even if modern life has made it easier to ignore.
Reconnecting with nature through direct, sensory experience not through social media ranting, headlines or even data, reawakens something deeper than sentiment. It taps into an ancient, adaptive bond that once shaped how we lived, how we belonged, and how we made sense of the world. And when we feel part of something rather than separate from it, the desire to care for and protect it becomes more natural.
That sense of connection also helps close the psychological distance, in terms of time and emotionally. Climate distress stops feeling like someone else’s problem, or a distant future to dread. It becomes part of our present, part of how we choose to relate and respond now, because it’s personal.
In my practice, I offer walk-and-talk and walk-and-make sessions nature-based approaches that bring therapy out of the office and into the world. These aren’t merely nice creative or calming alternatives. They’re ways to support psychological safety, emotional processing, and self-awareness in a setting that helps regulate the nervous system.
When we move, we think differently. When we create, we speak in layers. And when we do these things outdoors under trees, beside water, or along a familiar path we often find we can access parts of ourselves that are harder to reach in a clinical room.
These approaches are grounded in research. Studies show that:
Natural environments reduce stress, support mood regulation, and enhance cognitive functioning.
Exposure to nature increases feelings of social connection and cooperation.
Connection to nature (more than fear of climate change) predicts pro-environmental behaviour.
As climate disruptions become more frequent and undeniable, many people are feeling emotionally overwhelmed. We grieve. We worry. We feel helpless. We also feel angry, and that anger is valid.
Eco-anger is emerging as one of the most powerful emotional responses to environmental uncertainty. More than fear or despair, it has the potential to energise and mobilise but only if it has somewhere constructive to go. Without support, this anger can burn out, turn inward, or harden into hopelessness. It can also spill outward in ways that are isolating, reactive, and ironically disconnected from the very values it’s trying to defend. In some cases, it leads to frustration with others who "aren’t doing enough," or to behaviour that’s divisive, antisocial, or even environmentally harmful in practice.
Spending time in nature won’t fix everything, but it can help create space to pause, reflect, and redirect. It offers a grounded, accessible way to come back into relationship with place, with our bodies, and with our values. It helps regulate the nervous system so we can hold strong emotions without being overwhelmed by them. And perhaps most importantly, it reminds us that connection itself is an act of resistance. It’s a kind of activism that softens numbness and reawakens care.
Moments in nature help us reconnect with the biophilic bond that shaped how we lived, how we belonged, and how we made sense of the world. Even quiet acts of attention and care can interrupt the tide of despair. Connection fosters clarity, and from that place, meaningful action becomes more possible, more sustainable, and more deeply felt.
Curious about walk-and-talk or walk-and-make therapy?
Visit michellesaleeba.art to find out more about my creative workshops.
And for WALK & TALK there’s more on the linked page.