This summer, researchers at the University of Derby in the UK published a finding that humanity’s connection to nature has declined by more than 60 percent since 1800.

The researchers arrived at this conclusion by looking to several proxy indicators—including a drop in the frequency of nature words (like river, moss, blossom) in books as well as analysis of other trends like urbanization, reductions in everyday exposure to wildlife, and evidence that parents are less frequently passing on habits of connection to nature to their children. The researchers forecast that, absent major change, we’re headed for what we might call an “extinction of experience.”

This has serious implications for our ability to solve environmental problems. Our personal bonds with nature can shape how we take care of our local ecosystems as well as how we act on bigger issues like climate change—including the choices we make as voters and consumers.

Yet disconnection from nature also affects our shared future in less obvious ways. Our personal relationship with the natural world is indispensable for our mental health and even our connection to one another. In an age of rising distrust, loneliness, alienation, and fraying community life, we need connection to nature more than ever.

What It Means to Belong in Nature

When we talk about belonging, it’s natural to assume that we’re talking about human relations—how we fit into our families, friend groups, schools, workplaces, and society. But there’s more to it than that.

Across hundreds of conversations about the meaning of belonging with experts and people with deep lived experience, I’ve concluded that belonging is not only about social connection. It’s also about how we’re connected to the physical world—how we’re rooted in the land, in tune with the scents and sights of our surroundings, and embedded among the flora and fauna where we live.

As a range of recent studies demonstrate, regular time in green and blue spaces is linked to lower anxiety and depression, better mood, and improved cognition and sleep. With exposure to nature, children show gains in executive function and creativity. Time in natural settings also replenishes directed attention, lowers rumination, and reduces the stress hormone cortisol.

All of this is essential to our capacity to connect. When we’re detached from our surroundings, stressed, or caught in the fight-or-flight response, it’s hard to really listen, to care, to put ourselves in another person’s shoes.

Likewise, nature can offer us sensory richness and a sense of awe, which also strengthens our capacity to connect by broadening our perspective and bolstering our sense of meaning. Shared outdoor connection to familiar spaces—even rituals as simple as dog-walking—can increase cohesion, trust, and pro-social behaviour.

Can We Reverse the Trend?

A 60 percent decline in connection to nature is serious. But it risks getting much worse. Smarter and more ubiquitous AI-driven devices may push our time online upward, displacing time outdoors and our overall sense of connection to the places we live.

So, we need to restore access to nature and green spaces. But we also need to do something much more fundamental: We need to fall back in love with the natural world.

When I was writing my book On Belonging: Finding Connection in an Age of Isolation, I traveled to Port Royal, Kentucky, to interview the farmer, poet, and philosopher Wendell Berry. He offered me a specific vocabulary for expressing nature’s role in belonging. He doesn’t talk generically about “the environment.” He talks about the homeplace: “where you’re from.”

While we often reach for buzzwords like sustainability, Berry talks about responsible dependence: we rely on our places, so we owe them our care. To belong in nature is to be in relationship. That means receiving gifts of nourishment and inspiration from the lands and waters where we live, while also taking responsibility for their long-term well-being. Reciprocity. Mutuality. That’s what belonging is all about.

So how do we make Berry’s insights real? How do we return to reciprocal relationships with nature?

I’ve seen glimpses of solutions. In the Misipawistik Cree Nation in Manitoba, Canada, I’ve gotten to know land-based education efforts that teach fishing, natural medicine, and local history alongside traditional language, rebuilding a lived relationship to home while passing responsibility from elders to the next generation.

Environment Essential Reads

There are many practical examples that are scalable around the world. Cities should invest in street trees, pocket parks, pollinator strips, and safe wildlife routes, prioritizing places where there’s little accessible connection to nature. Likewise, schools and communities should consider early-childhood immersion programs: forest and gardening education, and ways of helping parents help their kids learn about nature.

We should find ways to design and use technology as an on-ramp, not a replacement for nature. Just as apps track our steps walked, they could also nudge us outdoors and track our time in the sunshine or walking in the woods. Field guides can help us get to know our local ecology.

As I wrote about recently in this series, “social prescribing”—where doctors connect isolated patients to nonmedical community services—can center heavily on gardening and hiking. A UK multi-year study of nature-focused social prescribing found major reductions in anxiety and boosts to happiness among participants.

Rekindle Belonging in Your Own Backyard

Of course, the work of falling back in love with nature is up to each one of us. It’s valuable to have our own intentional practices of paying attention and finding connection to the natural world. Be creative. For example, try connecting with something bigger than you (an old oak) and something smaller (a finch or patch of moss) each day. Belonging is about feeling our place in the greater whole.

Amidst all the difficult news, there’s also reason for hope. The University of Derby study actually found evidence of an uptick in nature words in the past few years—perhaps a sign of renewed awareness of the natural world. While it’s essential that we succeed in the big tasks of cutting carbon emissions and restoring biodiversity, don’t underestimate the importance—both personally and globally—of rekindling our deep affection for the places we call home.