When we think of rewilding, we might picture vast landscapes being restored to their natural state—wolves returning to forests, wetlands filling again with life. And yet, rewilding doesn’t have to be only about grand conservation projects. It can also be something personal. A quiet invitation to let nature back into the small rhythms of daily life.
Why It Matters
We live in carefully controlled environments. Climate control, artificial lighting, screens, curated feeds—so much of modern life removes us from the unpredictability of the natural world. That distance might make life more efficient, but it also makes it thinner.
By rewilding our daily lives, we invite texture and wonder back in. Instead of thinking of nature as separate, we remind ourselves that it isn’t just a place we visit on weekends. It’s something we can live alongside, every day.
Gentle Ways to Rewild
Rewilding doesn’t require moving to the mountains or abandoning technology. In fact, it can be as simple as opening small doors for nature to enter:
- Bring the outside in. Open your window to birdsong or fresh air. Place plants where you work or rest.
- Eat with the seasons. Let your meals reflect what’s growing locally—for example, strawberries in summer, apples in autumn, roots in winter.
- Change the way you walk. Instead of treating it as exercise, treat it as exploration. Notice leaves underfoot, textures of bark, and the patterns of clouds.
- Get your hands dirty. Tend to a garden, even if it’s just a few herbs in pots. Touching soil reconnects you to cycles of growth and care.
- Embrace natural light. Step outside at dawn or dusk. Or, when possible, work with daylight instead of artificial brightness.
Each of these is a doorway back into connection. Most of all, none demand perfection. They simply ask you to notice.
The Rhythms That Remind Me
One of my favorite ways to rewild is simply to notice the rhythms unfolding around me. On early morning walks across our land, before the sun has fully risen, there’s a soft orange glow in the air. In that half-light, little bats swoop above my head, catching the first insects of the day. Later, when the light has shifted, swallows arrive in the very same spot, carrying on the same dance.
What strikes me is how seamlessly they trade places—one presence flowing into another, each belonging to its moment. The bats don’t cling to the day, and the sparrows don’t rush the night. They know their time, and they honor it.
It’s a reminder that life holds rhythms far older and wiser than my own schedules. Because of that, when I notice them, I feel steadier. More part of the world, less apart from it.
Rediscovering Serendipity
Nature doesn’t follow a schedule. A sudden birdsong, the scent of rain, or a flower blooming in a crack in the sidewalk—all of these remind us that life isn’t always planned. By welcoming them, we give ourselves the gift of surprise and a gentle reminder that we are part of something larger.
A Gentle Reminder
Rewilding your daily life isn’t about adding more to your to-do list. Instead, it’s about peeling back the layers of noise that keep you separate from what already surrounds you.
Nature doesn’t ask for effort—only attention. Therefore, when you give it that, even briefly, it gives back a sense of grounding and belonging that no screen can replace.
This reflection is part of a three-part series on reconnecting with nature. In the first piece, The Extinction of Experience, I explored what we risk losing when we drift away from nature. Here, the invitation is to begin welcoming it back—one small step at a time.