An Embodied Curiosity

Image: A dirt path through a forest of tall trees. © Yvonne Wilber

In August of last year I found myself  making my way up the “easy” trail to Spencer Butte in Eugene, Oregon. I had hiked the butte once before, but this trail started at a higher elevation than the one I had hiked earlier in the year.

Where the two trails intersected, I was surprised to find how absolutely familiar I was with the section I had already traversed. The turns, switchbacks and the variations in the trail surface, the changing elevation and the well-placed bench or fallen log reminded me that this path was thoughtfully designed. The voices of the birds and the scent of plants and loamy soil spoke to me as if I had regularly traversed that hillside. 

This experience was actually quite astonishing, as I do not remember paying that much attention to my surroundings earlier in the summer.

Even so, my body remembered, and reminded me that I knew that place well. It was deeply familiar to me, because my body had paid attention.

If you are familiar with Japanese studies on Shinrin-yoku, or forest bathing, you know that the practice involves immersing yourself in a forest or another natural environment. Forest bathing prescribes a slow, meditative walk or a relaxing time spent sitting or lying down among the trees. The goal is to fully engage with the natural environment and to let go of the stresses and distractions of daily life. 

The Japanese scientists learned that forest environments― compared to city environments― promote lower concentrations of the stress hormone cortisol, lower the heart rate and blood pressure, allow for greater parasympathetic nerve activity, and lower sympathetic nerve activity.

These effects create a positive impact on mental and physical health, and can have a range of health benefits, such as reducing stress, improving mood, and boosting the immune system. I imagine a walk at the beach, or in the desert can have a similar effect.

I don’t think we really need a scientific study to affirm what many of us know by experience. Being in nature is good for us.

While scientists use investigation of the human body and the analysis of data to understand this phenomenon, I wonder how we might understand these experiences through the lens of curiosity?  

We know that curiosity drives inquiry and innovation, and the desire for greater understanding. At its simplest, however, curiosity is defined as a desire that does not carry with it any extrinsic benefit or reward.

Curiosity is a source of “latent” learning, learning that occurs as organisms move in and through their environment. 

Humans―like many other animals― have a natural curiosity which manifests as we interact with the world we live in. We see this especially in babies and children, who use all of their bodily senses to explore every aspect of their environment. Curiosity, then, is not simply a habit of the mind, but of the body as well.

Curiosity is involved in latent learning in several ways. First, curiosity leads us to engage in behaviors that are not immediately rewarded or reinforced, but which can result in valuable learning over time. 

Second, curiosity can drive us to engage in exploratory behavior that is not directly related to our current goals or needs. We often call this behavior “play” or “foraging” and it serves as an important mechanism for latent learning.

When we engage in play or foraging behavior (like when sampling blackberries on the side of a trail, or picking up a rock at the beach and try skipping it across the waves), we are motivated by curiosity and the desire to explore, rather than a specific goal or reward. We end up learning new skills or information that we may not have otherwise encountered. (And find that blackberries can be sweet or tart!)

Finally, curiosity can drive us to engage in active problem-solving behavior. When faced with a challenge or obstacle, if we lean into our curiosity we are more likely to seek out creative solutions and try new approaches until we find a successful solution.

This type of problem-solving behavior can lead to valuable learning that is not immediately apparent, or front of mind.

In fact, researchers have found that curiosity goes hand in hand with the development of cognitive maps. These subconscious maps or pathways in the brain represent the relationships we develop between ourselves and the world we live in. They allow us to make sense of the world and give us the ability to be creative in our decision making and able to deal with the unexpected.

What we learn from our environment endows us with the flexibility we need to navigate the contingencies of the everyday.

Returning to the practice of Shinrin-yoku, I wonder how allowing our bodies to be curious might also teach us about how to live well in the world.

Curiosity causes us to slow down, to pause, to delay or even change our original goal.  Nature immersion accommodates this freedom. It allows us to quiet ourselves, to rest in the strength and steadiness of our heartbeat, and to experience a confidence about ourselves in the simple act of breathing. 

As beneficial as our time in nature can be for us as individuals, there is a common good also. When we learn to live well with ourselves in our bodies― embracing both its strengths and its limitations― we can find it easier to walk the path of life with equanimity, and not be easily upset or ungrounded.

We can be at peace.

It is in this inner peacefulness that we find a natural inclination to be curious about others, a habit that opens a space to treat one another with understanding, kindness, patience, and respect. 

Postscript
I think it is important to acknowledge that for many Black people, this nation’s forests and parks may not be or feel safe. My hope is that those of us who love the outdoors work together to make those places safe and accessible to all, so that all may experience the wonderful benefits of immersing oneself in nature. Resources for Black enthusiasts can be found in diversity groups like Outdoor Afro.