Going Back to the Real World

Working in the tourism industry in a place as idyllic as Jackson Hole and Grand Teton National Park, I often hear someone say, “It’s time to go back to the real world.” At first, it was simply an easy comment to dismiss as someone who would prefer to stay in vast stretches of mountain wilderness versus returning to a stressful job and city life. After hearing it a few times, however, I began to wonder, if their home is the “real world,” then what am I in? Is my reality somehow not as valid because I’ve chosen to live in a picturesque setting?

I’ve chosen a line of work that I enjoy in a place that I love. Despite this, I still have many of the same stresses anyone in any other locale would have. I’ve gone through my share of financial worries. I’ve been through a divorce. I have a daughter to raise. I have social relationships like anyone else. So why is Jackson Hole, Wyoming not the “real world” then?

In reading between the lines, it became apparent that people who say such statements are often unhappy and unfulfilled either in their work and/or their living situation. I’ve chosen my career and my home, and I chose them because they bring me joy and fulfillment in my life. They, in turn, have also chosen their work and employment, but are receiving less than desirable results. They may also choose to believe that the fear of making a large change in either or both of those situations will result in unwanted conditions. It’s possible.

On the other hand, I’m where I want to be because I’ve chosen to trust my instincts and intuition, which have guided me here. I’ve found that doing so consistently, no matter how irrational the decision seems in the moment, leads to unexpectedly enjoyable outcomes.

But that’s digressing onto a tangent of the larger question. So then, what is the “real world”? To some visitors to the area (and many similar destinations), living in “real world” seems to require anxiety, traffic, frustration, and sensory bombardment, which are really all just forms of stress. Many of the factors that contribute to this unwanted stress can lead to a weakening of the resiliency of someone’s stamina and endurance, both physically and emotionally.

In contrast to this, more and more studies every year are confirming that time spent in nature isn’t just good for humans, it’s all but required. Simply being in a forest for a few minutes has a profound effect on our nervous system. Being in a quiet natural setting for just a few hours can lower stress and heart rates with the effects lasting up to an entire week. Even listening to birds chirping can lower stress (and you don’t even have to be a birder!). Our bodies evolved to be in nature. Quiet nature. Restorative nature. We need nature as much as we need clean air and water.

This means that someone that sees the “real world” as a stressful day-to-day existence amid skyscrapers and traffic jams is increasingly cut off from the very things that make us human. As such, I would argue that places like Grand Teton National Park, or any national park or national forest or the like are a better definition of the real world than anything found in a large urban environment. If anything, by leaving behind such places, I’ve found a world more real and meaningful than anything I spent years searching for in a big city.

No matter how technologically advanced we become, we still need time in nature. We need expansive and enormous natural preserves to disassociate with the chaotic enveloping of sensory overload from urban sprawls. There’s a reason more and more people are seeking national parks and forests every year. It’s not just budget dictating vacation ideas. It’s also an innate calling back to something we can feel our bodies craving. It’s the same feeling you get when you go days without eating any fruits or vegetables. In time, you’ll find your body craving them and devouring them when given the opportunity to eat some. If you don’t believe me, go a week without eating vegetables, and at the end of that week, go walk by a salad bar and try not to get anything from it. (I experienced this while thru-hiking the Arizona Trail. After three weeks without significant vegetables, I stopped in a restaurant to get a meal and the first thing I ordered was a spinach salad. It was one of the best salads I’ve ever had, and not because the restaurant did anything special to it.)

It’s the same with nature. Without access to what really matters to us, we can feel run down and disoriented. When that happens, it’s time to get back to the real world.

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