In Times of Trouble, Turn to Nature
When life feels overwhelming, or I find myself weighed down by uncertainty, I turn to the mountains, rivers, and forests of northern Idaho. The peace I feel in these wild spaces isn’t a recent discovery. Since I was young, my dad encouraged me to step outside whenever I felt lost, upset, or simply in need of a mental reset. “Go for a walk,” he’d say. “Find a quiet place outdoors, and just let yourself be.” A note I’m sure he took from the Beatles. He understood that sometimes, in order to process our emotions or release our stress, we need to step outside and connect with something larger than ourselves.
This simple advice has shaped how I cope with life’s challenges and find my way back to clarity. Whether I’m feeling uncertain about the future or struggling with the complexities of everyday life, time in the wilderness gives me a sense of calm that I find nowhere else.
Today, my favorite place to find that calm is on a trail, surrounded by towering trees or perched at the top of a peak, gazing out over an endless stretch of wilderness. There’s something humbling about standing on a mountain’s edge or along a lake’s shore and seeing how boundless nature truly is. It reminds me that no matter what burdens we carry, the natural world moves onward—weathering storms, adapting, and flourishing. These landscapes teach resilience, showing how trees bend but rarely break, how streams carve new paths around rocks, and how even the tallest mountains are shaped over millennia by wind and water.
It is in nature’s quiet persistence that I find perspective. When I’m standing among trees that have weathered decades, if not centuries, of storms, my own troubles feel lighter. The mountain doesn’t care what’s happening in my life, nor do the birds or streams or meadows. And while that may sound harsh, it’s surprisingly comforting; in the wild, I find release from the weight of my worries. Nature moves forward, and I am reminded that I can, too.
One of my favorite quotes comes from John Muir, who said, “In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks.” I feel this deeply every time I venture out. When I set off on a hike, I may be looking for fresh air, solitude, or a mental break, but I often return with so much more. The trail offers me a chance to untangle my thoughts, and sometimes, it feels as though nature is gently guiding me toward answers I didn’t even know I was seeking.
I’m also reminded of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s words:
“In the presence of nature, a wild delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows.”
There is something undeniably uplifting about the sights, sounds, and smells of the wilderness—the rustling of leaves in the breeze, the scent of pine, the crunch of earth beneath my feet. These sensory details anchor me in the moment, pulling me away from worry and into a state of mindfulness. It’s a powerful, grounding experience to be fully present in nature, appreciating each little detail that makes the wilderness alive and vibrant. In these moments, I am free to let go of what weighs on my mind.
The beauty of wilderness is that it’s a refuge available to all of us, whenever we need it. Whether you seek solitude on a backcountry trail or find peace beside a quiet stream, nature has a way of welcoming you exactly as you are. In times of trouble, I invite others to find solace in these wild places. Go to a spot where you can hear your own heartbeat, where the sounds of civilization fade into the background, and you’re left alone with the breeze, the sky, and your thoughts. Our wild places have been here long before us and will endure long after us; they offer a timeless refuge, a reminder that we, too, can weather life’s storms.
The next time you’re feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders, consider following my dad’s advice. Step outside. Let nature’s vastness remind you that you’re part of something much bigger, that your troubles, however real and pressing, are just a small chapter in a much larger story. Stand beside a mountain, beneath a wide sky, or at the edge of a tranquil lake, and take a moment to breathe, to be, and to let nature work its quiet magic.
Andrea Nagel lives in Sandpoint, Idaho with her husband, Kyle, and their mountain dog, Rue. She enjoys spending her time hiking, paddleboarding, and soaking in the beauty of the northwest. Andrea works as the Director of Storytelling and Partnerships at Better Together Animal Alliance. You can read more of Andrea’s and Kyle’s adventures and musings at stuckinorthidaho.com.
