A leafy alternative to doomscrolling (Day 1)

In which Hari talks about leaves and rain and hope

Credit: Wagrati Photo

You may not have slept very well. You may have interrupted your doom scrolling to accidentally click on this. I am going to ask you to stick with me while I say some mildly amusing things, and then ask you to go outside and step on some crunchy leaves.

In Wales, where I live, it rains most of the time. Wales was, as far as I am aware, actually largely temperate rainforest before people of the past decided to deforest pretty much the entirety of the UK. There are still some rainforests left in North Wales, which I hope to visit one day. All this to say, and I can’t express this enough: it rains almost every day here, even in summer.

This makes it very difficult to find crunchy leaves to stand on. This makes crunchy leaves a rare commodity. Leaves in Wales are damp and soft, and often will conspire with mud to make you slip. I have, on multiple occasions, walked over what I thought was a leafy path, only to fall directly on my bum in a puddle of mud - the leaves having tricked me into thinking I was safe when, of course, you never are around here. Crunchy, trustworthy leaves are a much sought-after luxury in my home country.

Yesterday, I asked my Instagram followers to give me things they like about nature and, as you might expect, given the subject of this brief article, someone said this:

              Crunchy leaves are SO pleasing

I, too, like da cronch. There is very little better than walking in the woods in Autumn, going off the beaten track, and having the pleasure of hearing and feeling the little leaves crumple under your feet. Some of them go in on themselves, some of them break, some of them powder underneath your step. All of them give you an innate sense that you are connected to something bigger than yourself.

In times of difficulty and uncertainty, it is easy to be cynical and pessimistic. It is, in fact, natural. But, in this moment, you can’t control the outcome of things bigger than you anymore than the leaves can control whose feet grind them into mulch. There are times to act, and there are times to allow yourself to rest. You have acted all you can, and now, like the trees in autumn, you must shed your leaves and sleep before acting again.

You, like the leaves, are made up largely of carbon. You, like the leaves, can crumble and break, as can those who cause you distress. You are one of the most unlikely things ever to exist, which seems odd because there are other ‘yous’ everywhere you look, but it is true.

If you are lucky enough to be somewhere with trees and dry leaves, turn off your device for 10 minutes and walk with the crunch under your feet. It won’t make you feel better, but it will remind you that you are human, and that things are impermanent. It will remind you that there is a big ecosystem that needs your hope. It will remind you that resting is selfless, because that big ecosystem needs you at your best for what comes next.