Читаем Awe полностью

We experience biophilia in almost any kind of nature, from viewing the changing colors of leaves to the phases of the moon. More everyday awe. There are robust communities that have grown out of the awe we feel for clouds, the ocean, waves, trees, and birds, to name just a few. And gardens. Should you encounter flowers in a garden, fragrant pollinating forms of colorful geometry, you are likely to feel sensory delight, a sense of beauty, and perhaps awe, and be more inclined to cooperate. The scents in the garden—of basil, rosemary, camellia, peach, pine—send neurochemical signals from your olfactory system through emotion- and memory-related regions of the brain to the frontal lobes, including the orbitofrontal cortex, where our tendencies toward ethical actions are moved by our emotions. Scents in gardens take us on an awe-inspiring journey, often back in time to other moments of significant fragrance. Those scents signal to us what is pure, life-generating, rewarding, good.

How might we make the case that we have a biological need for wild awe, a need that is on par with our needs for protein-rich food, thermoregulation, sleep, oxygen, and water?

Or the more social needs, like being loved, cared for, touched, esteemed, and respected?

Basic, evolved needs unfold reliably during our development, are supported by specific neurophysiological processes, and if unmet, lead to poor health and social dysfunction. Within this framework, our biological need to belong is clear: it emerges reliably early in a child’s life, is supported by broad networks of neurochemicals (dopamine, oxytocin) and regions of the body (the vagus nerve), and if unmet—think solitary confinement or being an orphan from a civil war—leads to the deepest kinds of dysfunction, such as the stunting of the growth of the brain, chronic illness, depression, and premature death.

Do we have a biological need for wild awe? Let’s begin with the question of development. When given the chance, children find abundant awe exploring the outdoors; pouring liquids and filling buckets of sand; collecting bugs, twigs, and leaves; climbing trees and digging holes; splashing water; and marveling at the rain and clouds. Our remarkably long childhood emerged in our evolution to allow for the exploration and play necessary for learning about the natural and social environments. Less controlled by the prefrontal cortex (and the default self), children’s brains form more synaptic connections between neurons than adults’ brains and are more oriented toward novel explanation and discovery. The child’s awe-filled relationship to the natural world is a laboratory for deep learning about the systems of life, essential to our survival.

With respect to the neurophysiology of wild awe, the sights, sounds, scents, and tastes of nature lead to awe-related vagus nerve activation and reduce fight-or-flight cardiovascular response, blood pressure, cortisol, and inflammation. Here are but a few empirical examples of how our bodies are like an antenna when outdoors in nature. The sounds of water activate the vagus nerve. Certain scents in nature calm our stress-related physiology. Many plants give off phytoncides, chemical compounds that reduce blood pressure and boost immune function. Encounters with images of nature lead to the activation of dopamine networks in the brain, which animate, you will recall, exploration and wonder.

And as with any biological need, when our need for wild awe is satisfied, we fare better, and when it is thwarted, we suffer in mind and body. In testing this thesis, controlled studies have had people go on walks in nature, or had them view images or videos of awesome nature or see how people living near accessible green spaces fare. Scientists in South Korea and Japan have studied the effects of forest bathing, where people are led through immersive awe experiences in forests—for example, walking, taking in scents, feeling leaves and bark on the skin and with the hands, contemplating for a moment a tree and its remarkable design. When we satisfy our need for wild awe, it is good for our minds; we concentrate better, handle stresses with more resilience, and perform better on cognitive tests of different kinds.

Frances Kuo, a pioneer in the science of wild awe, had children diagnosed with attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder go for a walk of comparable length and physical exertion in a green park, a quiet neighborhood, or noisy downtown Chicago. Children scored better on a measure of concentration only after the walk in the park. Getting outdoors in nature empowers our attention, what William James called “the very root of judgment, character, and will,” and our ability to discern what is urgent from what is not and how to place the hectic moments of our days into a broader narrative. In geographical regions where the population has greater access to beautiful green spaces, people report greater happiness and goodwill toward others.