Reaching for Sunlight
And comparing myself to a houseplant
This past month has been exhausting. After suffering from sinus inflammation in early March, my body struggled to bounce back. This is my prime time of year for sinus issues—with wildly variable weather and pressure changes and the start of pollen season—so nothing seemed awry until I looked at the calendar and realized it had been more than three weeks since I felt even halfway decent.
The fatigue and the difficulty of staying on top of my work meant that hiking plans were repeatedly pushed aside. I could see deadlines looming and couldn’t justify taking off a whole day to go walk in the woods. However, I probably should have.
I’ve become increasingly convinced that I’m happiest when I nourish myself like a plant—plenty of water, sunshine, and dirt beneath my feet. There’s an oft-shared comic by Poorly Drawn Lines that has made the rounds on the internet for years which reads, “Don’t Forget: Drink water. Get sunlight. You’re basically a house plant with more complicated emotions.” That resonates with me, though I would prefer to be planted outdoors rather than on someone’s windowsill.
My own windowsills are not particularly hospitable to houseplants. My apartment only has east and west-facing windows. The east-facing ones are about five feet away from the next building, so while the rooms are bright, there isn’t much direct sunlight. The west-facing windows are not blocked by a building, but there are several large trees with branches that obscure the view, especially when they leaf out. The plants in the west-facing windows—a bromeliad and an amaryllis—are surviving, though they are rather gangly as their leaves stretch out to reach for the sun. I’ve given up on growing plants in the east-facing windows after killing more potted herbs than I’d like to admit. It’s taken me a long time to realize that if there’s not adequate sunlight for my plants to be happy inside, there probably isn’t adequate sunlight for me to be happy inside, either.
It’s amazing the difference a bit of sunshine can make. Today1, I decided that I needed a change of scenery because I was overwhelmed by prep work for a presentation I’m giving later in the week. I walked a couple blocks to a sandwich shop and sat at a sun-drenched table by the window to eat lunch. Almost immediately, it felt like someone had replaced my dying batteries with a fresh set! I lingered over my meal and soaked in warmth, light, and Vitamin D.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise to me that I felt better. Over the years, I have repeatedly observed that sunshine, exercise, and fresh air drastically improve my mood (no surprise that I love hiking). But when I’m feeling depleted—when my inner houseplant is wilting—it’s easy to forget that I already know the key to my reinvigoration.
Even after recharging in the sunlight this afternoon, I still found myself waffling over whether there’s enough time to get outdoors2 before I head north to a conference where I will be inside a hotel for three and a half days. Those pesky complicated emotions that separate me from a houseplant wanted me to focus all my energy on practicing my presentation and triple checking my packing list: “You’re not feeling 100%, so you should compensate by cramming as much information into your head as possible.”
But what if getting out for a hike will get me closer to 100% than another hour staring at my computer screen? Past experience tells me that it will. So I’m going to quash those anxious thoughts and instead get up half an hour earlier than normal on Thursday, which will give me plenty of time to fit in a three mile hike somewhere along the drive up to the conference. I will drink my water, reach my face towards the sun, and feel the ground beneath my feet. And by the end of the trail, I bet I will be smiling.3
The day I wrote this, which was Tuesday, April 8, 2025.
For more than just a walk through my neighborhood.
Epilogue: As I stepped onto the trail at Skunk and Foster Lakes State Natural Area on Thursday, April 10, I immediately felt my breathing patterns change. I took deeper breaths in and exhaled audible sighs. With each repetition the muscles in my shoulders and back loosened and a weight lifted. And yes, I smiled.
I really relate to this. For me, anxiety and/or social anxiety can become a cage that keeps me in my yard and house. The garden really isn't enough all the time; I have to hike or at least visit a park. I'm not sure if it's the need to feel a trail under my feet, the sense of exploration, or needing to at least perceive I'm away from too many human-built structures (not counting visitors centers and restrooms.)
I hope the conference and especially the hike on the way there was enjoyable. I love incorporating nature stops into work travel.
I incorporate practicing into outdoors time, sometimes. I record myself practicing conference presentations and court arguments and then play it on my phone like a podcast while walking around (or driving to the destination.) It really helps! It makes it easier to remember the talk and seem natural, not reading off a page, and also catch things I might like to fix.
A great reminder to get outdoors. I KNOW that taking a walk is the best medicine, but somehow it's still hard to make myself go out, especially when it's raining. However, I will go out and garden with very little excuse...
I loved this quote from your post: "I’ve become increasingly convinced that I’m happiest when I nourish myself like a plant—plenty of water, sunshine, and dirt beneath my feet." So true!