Touch Grass: Finding Peace with Nature as a Toronto Student

Tuesday, August 25, was just one of those days. I woke up at 9:30, stared at the ceiling, contemplated what I wanted to do that morning, and then did none of it and slept for another hour instead. 

Eventually, though, sleep stopped chasing me, and I was tired of chasing it, so I turned onto my stomach and looked outside the window at the infuriatingly sunny day. If only it was rainy; I could have a valid excuse to stay inside and do absolutely nothing. 

But I knew from my trauma of the past Toronto winter season that I would regret missing out on such nice weather, so I had gotten myself out of bed and made a plan for the afternoon: I would walk to King’s College Circle. I would bring a book. I would lie in the grass and read. 

For context, I had no other plans that day, besides a gym workout, some university work, and housekeeping items that I finished by 2 p.m. I had also challenged myself to a full digital detox: no social media, no scrolling, no streaming anything besides the news. I had even decided to give up my smartphone and opted for a simple flip phone instead. 

This challenge was extreme, inspired by my summer activities. I had completed an internship at Bank of America in Charlotte, which was a quiet city in which nature still had a heavy grasp on it. I especially enjoyed walking beside the rail tracks in late evenings, getting serenaded by cicadas and kissed by the moonlight. I had found a sense of peace in Charlotte and felt an ache in my heart for the peace that had gone missing in the busy pace of Toronto. 

So on that Tuesday, I left my room and went down to the 2nd floor of my apartment building, where I borrowed a book from the community library. After selecting an intriguing mystery novel, I headed to the ground floor and exited the building. 

I walked through the Eaton Centre, then up University Avenue to King’s College Circle. The area was busy, as always, with incoming first-years exploring the campus, upper-year students enjoying the weather, and tourists taking photos of the views. I walked through the large green circle, straight to the middle of the busyness, and found a quiet, comfortable spot where the sun could shine on my face. I plopped onto the grass, flipped open my book, and read. 

Sometimes I would get bored, put my book down, and watch people instead. Interestingly, there were others also lying in the grass, not caring about the bugs and getting dirty. I could also hear snippets of conversation from nearby students playing frisbee, chatting with their friends, or just walking to a different part of campus. 

I left a few hours later, after noticing some ominous grey clouds rolling in. I got up from the grass and stretched, holding my book close to my chest. I had realized that I needed that Tuesday, even though it did not exactly have the right start. I needed to feel the sunshine heal my muscles after my gym workout. I needed to watch the clouds and jet streams in the sky. I needed to turn off my brain for a while and let the world flow through me instead of at me. I let my ears listen. I let my eyes wander. I let the insects land on my book and rest their wings. I let myself be at peace. 

To be honest, my friends think I’ve gone full crunchy granola, and my own mother even told me I act like I’m already retired. A couple of years ago, I too would have written my current habits off as new-age nonsense. 

While I’m not exactly 90 years old, I am currently in my final year of studies, feeling the pressure, mostly from myself, to get my life together. I want to maintain a lifestyle that will build me up for success as I begin to enter a more independent part of my life. Much of my past digital media consumption left me unfulfilled, while reconnecting with nature helped me stay grounded and think more deeply about my next steps after graduation. 

Maybe this story resonated with you; maybe not. But if it did, take my advice. Touch grass.