Recently I moved to Edinburgh from Glasgow. This was in large part because I wanted to live closer to nature, which might sound like an unusual reason to move to a city, but for me it made perfect sense.
I’m lucky enough to live right by Arthur’s Seat. I step outside and immediately I am surrounded by green space. I love the energy and creativity of city life, but I’ve realised I also need access to something wilder.
I grew up on an island on the west coast of Scotland, where nature is completely interwoven with everyday life.
Just to get to school every day I would walk through forests and fields, saying hello to red deer, to catch the bus. The bus would take us along the coast and it was not uncommon to spot golden eagles, seals, dolphins and basking sharks on the journey. Quite insane to think about in hindsight! At the time, I definitely didn’t appreciate how incredible it was to see these things everyday. When you’re that age, you rarely recognise how lucky you are. But when I look back now, I really do.
Now, whenever I go back to the island, I take everything in a way I never did when I lived there.
Simply taking in the view and being present in nature feels to me like a very productive day.
I’ve embraced urban life since leaving the island, and I genuinely love living in a city. But I’ve also noticed how easily I slip into the rhythm of the “rat race”. There is always something to do, somewhere to go and something to achieve. Even leisure time can start to feel like a productivity achievement.
I have noticed there is a particular trend in my generation, fueled by social media. Reconnecting with nature has become its own performative industry. There is endless content about hiking, wellness, and getting outside. This can of course be wonderful, but sometimes I feel it is all motivated by the wrong intentions. The right outfit, the right viewpoint, the right photograph. This is something I myself have definitely been sucked into.
I recently saw a news clip about people queuing at the top of Snowdon for the perfect picture. I understand it. Reaching the top of a mountain is a huge achievement, and of course you want to remember it. But I can’t help wondering what happens when the photograph becomes the point.
Are we experiencing nature, or documenting ourselves experiencing it?
I do think there is value in occasionally leaving your phone in your pocket and allowing yourself to simply be somewhere. Removing the impulse to share returns me to the feeling I had in my childhood, where I was immersed in nature with nothing to prove.
I recently went on a WanderWomen forest hammock bath experience and it evoked that childhood feeling in me.
It was a gentle, grounding way to be introduced to Edinburgh’s natural world. Our urban brains are constantly spinning many plates and sometimes you need an external voice to help guide you into a calmer state. Anna’s session really facilitated that slowing down and feeling present.
There was something deeply refreshing about being surrounded by women. I work in a very male-dominated industry, so I loved hearing everyone else’s stories and experiences, which in turn supported me to share my own. I think being in a green beautiful space also stimulates a desire to open up and share and I think we could all feel the benefit of that during the session. I left with a comforting feeling of connection to both the space we’d been working in, and the people I’d shared that space with. I would really recommend WanderWomen to anyone looking to slow down without the pressure of proving anything.
Come and wander with us: Book now at www.wander-women.co.uk
