A few years ago, I caught myself in the middle of what I can only call a weird human glitch.
I was sitting at my desk, supposedly “working,” but my attention was skittering around like a squirrel hopped up on espresso.
One minute, I was checking emails.
Then I was refilling my coffee.
Then I was Googling something completely unrelated (which, for the record, I can’t even remember now).
By the time I finally stopped, I realized I had no idea how long I’d been in that loop… but my brain felt fuzzy, my shoulders were tight, and my eyes were doing that “I’ve stared at a screen too long” burn.
It was like my mind was untethered—floating somewhere outside of me, dragging me along behind it.
And the strangest part? I wasn’t even doing anything meaningful. Just… scrolling and reacting.
That restless, unrooted feeling
I didn’t know it at the time, but what I was feeling has a name:
Nature deficit.
It’s what happens when our eyes, ears, skin, and even our nervous systems forget what “real life” actually feels like.
We live inside a world of glowing rectangles.
We’re constantly reacting to little pings and dings.
Our feet rarely touch the ground (and no, your kitchen floor doesn’t count).
The result?
We feel scattered. Stressed. Restless.
Like we’re missing something… but can’t quite name what it is.
A little confession
I didn’t always notice it in myself—until I started working with plants every day.
Back then, I was managing the gardens at Piscataway National Park, just outside of Washington D.C. My job was basically to be outside, growing vegetables and medicinal herbs, and teaching other people about them.
I’d spend the morning walking between the plots, brushing my fingers over basil leaves, listening to the bees humming through the echinacea, smelling the sharp green scent of tomato vines on my skin.
And here’s what I realized…
I never felt that scattered, frazzled energy in the garden.
Not once.
Out there, my brain felt steady. My shoulders softened. My thoughts stopped leaping like squirrels from branch to branch.
It was like my nervous system finally remembered: Oh right. This is where we belong.
The root of the problem
Humans are wired to be in nature—visually, physically, emotionally.
It’s not just “nice” to see green things.
It’s necessary.
Your body was built to:
- Track the slow sway of a plant in the breeze (hello, eye muscles relaxing)
- Smell soil after rain (yes, that earthy scent has a real calming effect)
- Feel the temperature shift as you step into shade (instant micro-adjustment to your stress hormones)
When we don’t get those sensory inputs?
Our system feels off.
And no amount of coffee or productivity hacks will fix it.
Why TriGardening exists
This is why I started TriGardening—because plants aren’t just “decor.” They’re lifelines back to the part of us that feels grounded, steady, and alive.
I believe nature connection is just as essential as mind–body–spirit care. (Actually, they are mind–body–spirit care.)
Whether you have a backyard, a windowsill, or just a desk corner, you can invite that connection back into your life. And when you do, things shift.
Your thoughts slow down.
Your breath deepens.
Your energy stops ricocheting everywhere and roots into something solid.
A quick win for today
If you’re feeling restless or scattered right now, try this:
Get yourself one low-maintenance plant.
Just one.
No complicated care instructions. No guilt trips about not being “a plant person.”
Choose something forgiving, like a pothos, snake plant, or ZZ plant.
Then—this is key—put it somewhere you will see it every single day.
Don’t hide it in a corner. Make it part of your daily visual landscape.
Every time your eyes land on it, pause for just two breaths. Notice the color. The shape. The way the leaves catch light.
You might think nothing is happening in that moment—but your brain is quietly recalibrating, re-learning the rhythm of life outside the digital spin cycle.
The truth is…
Maybe you’re not as bad at focusing or as easily distracted as you think.
You’re just a human living in a world that’s forgotten it isn’t made of concrete and glass.
The good news?
It only takes the tiniest shift—a single plant, in the right place—to start rooting yourself again.
In the next article, I’m going to tell you why plants don’t just look nice…
They rewire your brain to feel calmer and more focused.
It’s going to sound a little magical (because it is).
See you then,
P.S. If you already have a plant nearby, I dare you to pause right now, look at it, and just be with it for 10 seconds. I’ll bet you feel a little different after.