There’s a familiar modern fantasy that goes something like this:
If I could just get outside more, everything would make sense.
The anxiety would evaporate. The brain fog would lift. The personality would improve. The email inbox would stop screaming. Life would feel…real again.
We say this while staring into rectangles, indoors, under artificial light, surrounded by objects that did not exist 200 years ago and expectations that didn’t exist 20.
Which raises the question people keep asking—usually while hiking in expensive boots they researched for three weeks:
Is love of nature something we’re born with? Is it written into our DNA? Or is it just what happens when the nervous system is overwhelmed and the forest looks like a reasonable alternative to the internet?
The short answer: it’s complicated.
The long answer: pull up a log, because this goes back way further than Instagram sunsets.
The Romantic Idea: Nature as Our Original Home
There’s a popular belief that humans are meant to love nature because we evolved in it.
Savannas. Rivers. Trees. Open skies. Predators lurking just far enough away to keep things interesting.
According to this story, our attraction to nature is ancient—an inherited preference shaped by millions of years of survival. Green landscapes meant food. Water meant life. Elevated views meant safety. Natural sounds meant the world was functioning normally and nothing was actively trying to eat us.
This idea has a name: biophilia. It suggests that humans have an innate tendency to seek out connections with nature and other living systems.
It’s a lovely theory. Comforting. Almost poetic.
It also gets oversimplified into something like:
Humans love trees because genes.
Reality, as usual, is messier.
If Nature Love Is Genetic, Why Does Everyone Experience It Differently?
If appreciation for nature were purely genetic, we’d all respond to it the same way.
We do not.
Some people walk into a forest and feel awe, calm, grounding, transcendence.
Others think:
Bugs. Dirt. No Wi-Fi.
Some people feel spiritually restored by the ocean. Others spend the entire time monitoring their proximity to jellyfish.
Some people move to the mountains for peace. Others last three weeks before realizing they miss grocery delivery and restaurants that stay open past 7 p.m.
This variation matters.
Genes don’t usually produce such wildly different emotional reactions unless culture, experience, and conditioning are doing a lot of the heavy lifting.
Evolution Gave Us Preferences, Not Poetry
From an evolutionary standpoint, humans didn’t need to love nature. They needed to navigate it successfully.
That meant:
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Preferring landscapes where food and water were accessible
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Avoiding environments that felt dangerous or unpredictable
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Seeking shelter, shade, and visibility
In other words, nature wasn’t a spa. It was a workplace.
Our ancestors weren’t pausing to admire wildflowers. They were scanning for threats, resources, and survival opportunities.
What evolution likely wired into us wasn’t reverence—it was pattern recognition.
Open spaces with trees and water feel good not because they’re beautiful, but because they historically increased the odds of staying alive.
That’s not romance. That’s logistics.
Modern Humans Don’t Encounter Nature the Way Our Ancestors Did
Here’s the key problem with the “it’s in our genes” argument:
We don’t experience nature the way it was experienced during human evolution.
We experience it as an escape.
Nature is no longer where we live. It’s where we visit. Temporarily. On weekends. With snacks. And an exit strategy.
This changes everything.
When you walk into the woods today, your brain isn’t thinking, I must forage or perish.
It’s thinking, Finally, no notifications.
The relief people feel in nature may have less to do with ancient DNA and more to do with contrast.
The Attention Economy Is Doing Nature a Lot of Favors
Modern life is relentless.
Endless information. Artificial lighting. Noise that never stops. Cognitive demands layered on top of emotional ones.
Your brain is constantly filtering, responding, deciding, performing.
Nature, by comparison, is low-bandwidth.
Trees don’t ask for anything. Rivers don’t update. Mountains don’t track engagement.
Psychologists call this attention restoration theory. The idea is simple: natural environments give the brain a break from directed attention—the exhausting mental process of focusing on tasks, screens, and demands.
Nature doesn’t demand focus. It allows it to drift.
That relief can feel profound. Almost spiritual.
But again—that doesn’t mean it’s genetic destiny. It may just be mental recovery.
Why Green Is Especially Powerful
Studies consistently show that green environments—parks, forests, gardens—are associated with reduced stress, improved mood, and better cognitive function.
Is this because green equals survival in evolutionary terms?
Partly. But it’s also because green is statistically rare in modern urban life.
Most people spend their days surrounded by:
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Gray concrete
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Artificial colors
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Flat surfaces
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Right angles
Nature breaks that pattern.
It introduces fractals—complex, repeating shapes that the brain processes easily and finds soothing.
Your nervous system doesn’t think, Ah yes, the savanna.
It thinks, This is easier to look at.
Childhood Experience Shapes Nature Affection More Than Genes
One of the strongest predictors of adult connection to nature isn’t genetics—it’s early exposure.
People who spent time outdoors as kids are more likely to:
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Feel comfortable in natural settings
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Experience curiosity instead of anxiety
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Associate nature with play rather than danger
People who didn’t often experience nature early may associate it with:
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Discomfort
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Uncertainty
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Inconvenience
This isn’t biology. It’s learning.
Your brain forms emotional associations based on experience. If nature was joyful, it becomes comforting. If it was stressful or absent, it becomes neutral—or even threatening.
Genes don’t override memory.
The Romanticization of Nature Is a Modern Luxury
Here’s an uncomfortable truth:
People romanticize nature the most when they don’t depend on it.
Historically, nature was unpredictable, dangerous, and unforgiving.
Weather destroyed crops. Animals attacked. Disease spread. Resources vanished.
The idea of nature as calming and healing only emerges when:
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Food is secure
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Shelter is guaranteed
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Medical care exists
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Survival is mostly handled
Loving nature is easier when it’s optional.
So Why Does It Feel So Deeply Personal?
Because nature provides something modern life rarely does: perspective without judgment.
In nature, you’re small—but not evaluated.
There are no metrics. No rankings. No performance reviews.
That alone can feel emotionally profound.
It’s not that nature loves you back. It’s that it doesn’t care—and that can be oddly freeing.
Are Some People More “Wired” for Nature Than Others?
Yes—but not in the mystical sense.
Personality traits matter.
People high in:
tend to report stronger emotional responses to nature.
People high in:
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Stimulation-seeking
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Structure preference
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Predictability
may prefer environments with clear boundaries and human design.
Neither is better. They’re different nervous systems responding to different inputs.
That’s not destiny. That’s temperament.
The Genetic Component: Subtle, Not Sacred
Genes influence:
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Sensory processing
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Stress reactivity
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Novelty tolerance
Those factors can shape how someone experiences nature.
But they don’t dictate meaning.
Genes set the stage. Culture, experience, and context write the script.
Nature Isn’t Calling You—Your Nervous System Is
When people say, “I feel called to nature,” what they often mean is:
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I’m overstimulated
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I’m burned out
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I’m craving silence
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I want relief from constant evaluation
Nature happens to deliver those things efficiently.
That doesn’t make it fake. It makes it functional.
The Danger of Over-Romanticizing the Question
When we frame love of nature as something mystical and genetic, we risk:
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Excluding people who don’t feel it
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Moralizing environmental behavior
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Turning preference into virtue
You don’t need to feel awe in a forest to care about the planet.
Environmental responsibility is a social and ethical choice—not a personality test.
So… Is Love of Nature in Our Genes?
Here’s the most honest answer:
We are wired to respond positively to certain natural patterns—but what that response means depends on everything else.
Genes influence comfort. Experience creates attachment. Culture supplies interpretation.
Nature doesn’t awaken something ancient so much as it quiets something modern.
And sometimes, that’s enough.
The Final Thought
You don’t love nature because your ancestors did.
You love nature because it asks less of you than everything else.
And in a world that never shuts up, that can feel like home.