Life in the city is full of stress. A Psychologies journalist told how, even in a noisy metropolis, you can learn to notice the world around and regain peace of mind. To do this, she went to training with ecopsychologist Jean-Pierre Le Danfu.
“I want to describe to you what is seen from the window in our office. From left to right: the multi-storey glass facade of the insurance company, it reflects the building where we work; in the center — six-story buildings with balconies, all exactly the same; further on are the remains of a recently demolished house, construction debris, figurines of workers. There is something oppressive about this area. Is this how people should live? I often think when the sky gets lower, the newsroom gets tense, or I don’t have the courage to get down into the crowded metro. How to find peace in such conditions?
Jean-Pierre Le Danf comes to the rescue: I asked him to come from the village where he lives in order to test the effectiveness of ecopsychology for himself.
This is a new discipline, a bridge between psychotherapy and ecology, and Jean-Pierre is one of the rare representatives of it in France. “A lot of diseases and disorders – cancer, depression, anxiety, loss of meaning – are probably the result of environmental destruction,” he explained to me over the phone. We blame ourselves for feeling like strangers in this life. But the conditions in which we live have become abnormal.”
The task of the cities of the future is to restore naturalness so that you can live in them
Ecopsychology claims that the world we create reflects our inner worlds: the chaos in the outside world is, in essence, our inner chaos. This direction studies the mental processes that connect us with nature or move us away from it. Jean-Pierre Le Danf usually practices as an ecopsychotherapist in Brittany, but he liked the idea of trying his method in the city.
“The task of the cities of the future is to restore naturalness so that you can live in them. Change can only start with ourselves.” The ecopsychologist and I come to the conference room. Black furniture, gray walls, carpet with a standard barcode pattern.
I sit with my eyes closed. “We cannot get in touch with nature if we do not have contact with the closest nature — with our body, Jean-Pierre Le Danf announces and asks me to pay attention to the breath without trying to change it. – Watch what is going on inside you. What do you feel in your body right now? I realize I’m holding my breath, as if I’m trying to reduce the contact between myself and this air-conditioned room and the smell of the cladding.
I feel my hunched back. The ecopsychologist quietly continues: “Watch your thoughts, let them float like clouds somewhere far away, in your inner sky. What do you realize now?
My forehead is wrinkled with anxious thoughts: even if I don’t forget anything that’s going on here, how can I write about it? The phone beeped — who is it? Did I sign permission for my son to take the school field trip? The courier will arrive in the evening, you can’t be late … An exhausting state of constant combat readiness. “Watch the sensations that come from the outside world, the sensations on your skin, the smells, the sounds. What do you realize now? I hear hurried footsteps in the corridor, this is something urgent, the body tenses up, it’s a pity that it’s cool in the hall, but it was warm outside, arms folded on the chest, palms warming the hands, the clock is ticking, tick-tock, workers outside are making noise, walls are crumbling, bang, tick-tock, tick-tock, rigidity.
«When you’re ready, slowly open your eyes.» I stretch, I get up, my attention is drawn to the window. The hubbub is heard: recess has begun at the school next door. «What do you realize now?» Contrast. The lifeless interior of the room and the life outside, the wind shakes the trees in the school yard. My body is in a cage and the bodies of the children who frolic in the yard. Contrast. Desire to go outside.
Once, traveling through Scotland, he spent the night alone on a sandy plain — without a watch, without a phone, without a book, without food.
We go out into the fresh air, where there is something similar to nature. “In the hall, when you focused on the inner world, your eye began to look for what meets your needs: movement, color, wind,” says the ecopsychologist. — When walking, trust your gaze, it will lead you to where you will feel good.
We wander towards the embankment. Cars roar, brakes screech. An ecopsychologist talks about how walking will prepare us for our goal: finding a green space. “We slow down with stone tiles laid at the right intervals. We are moving towards peace in order to merge with nature.” Light rain starts. I used to be looking for somewhere to hide. But now I want to continue walking, which is slowing down. My senses are getting sharper. Summer smell of wet asphalt. The child runs away from under the mother’s umbrella, laughing. Contrast. I touch the leaves on the lower branches. We stop at the bridge. Before us is a powerful current of green water, moored boats sway quietly, a swan swims under a willow. On the railing is a box of flowers. If you look through them, the landscape will become more colorful.
From the bridge we descend to the island. Even here, between skyscrapers and highways, we find a green oasis. The practice of ecopsychology consists of stages that consistently bring us closer to a place of solitude..
In Brittany, students of Jean-Pierre Le Danf choose such a place themselves and stay there for an hour or two to feel everything that happens inside and around them. He himself once, traveling through Scotland, spent the night alone on a sandy plain — without a watch, without a phone, without a book, without food; lying on the ferns, indulging in reflections. It was a powerful experience. With the onset of darkness, he was seized by a feeling of fullness of being and trust. I have another goal: to recover internally during a break in work.
The ecopsychologist gives instructions: «Keep walking slowly, being aware of all the sensations, until you find a place where you say to yourself, ‘This is it.’ Stay there, don’t expect anything, open yourself to what is.
The sense of urgency left me. The body is relaxed
I give myself 45 minutes, turn off my phone and put it in my bag. Now I walk on the grass, the ground is soft, I take off my sandals. I follow the path along the coast. Slowly. The splash of water. Ducks. The smell of the earth. There is a cart from the supermarket in the water. A plastic bag on a branch. Terrible. I look at the leaves. To the left is a leaning tree. «It’s here».
I sit down on the grass, lean against a tree. My eyes are fixed on other trees: under them I too will lie down, arms folded as the branches cross above me. Green waves from right to left, left to right. The bird responds to another bird. Trill, staccato. Green Opera. Without the obsessive ticking of the clock, time flows imperceptibly. A mosquito sits on my hand: drink my blood, scoundrel — I prefer to be here with you, and not in a cage without you. My gaze flies along the branches, to the tops of the trees, follows the clouds. The sense of urgency left me. The body is relaxed. The gaze goes deeper, to grass sprouts, daisy stalks. I am ten years old, five. I’m playing with an ant that’s stuck between my fingers. But it’s time to go.
Returning to Jean-Pierre Le Danfu, I feel peace, joy, harmony. We are slowly walking back to the office. We rise to the bridge. Before us is the motorway, glass facades. Is this how people should live? This landscape overwhelms me, but I no longer experience anxiety. I really feel the fullness of being. What would our magazine be like elsewhere?
“Why be surprised that in an unfriendly space we harden, reach violence, deprive ourselves of feelings?” comments an ecopsychologist who seems to be reading my mind. A little bit of nature is enough to make these places more human.”