For the Love of Houseplants
The plants in our living room love the Kentucky sun. This summer our palm grew three leaves and pressed them eagerly against the window. Our numerous vines extend further each day. And even the plants in the dimmer corners of the room extend confidently toward the light. Taken together, our two dozen plants help make our living room the most peaceful room in the house.
All the greenery we’ve packed inside is something I fantasized about frequently during the latter years of my walk. For however much I enjoyed a life spent outdoors, I understood that I couldn’t go on living outside forever, and that eventually, I would have to box myself inside like everyone else. I knew this boxing-in would mean a permanent longing for the wind and the rustling leaves that I lived with for so long. And that living indoors would mean the loss of relief I experienced when reaching a spot of shade on a hot day. Of course, the profound satisfaction of a life outdoors could never be brought perfectly inside. I understand that. The outside is simply more expansive than any indoor space could replicate. Still, I figured I would try.
The mental and physical benefits that indoor plants have on us are documented as well as anything in science. A study in the Journal of Physiological Anthropology found that caring for indoor plants reduces psychological and physiological stress. A Scandinavian study has shown exposure to indoor plants improves feelings of well-being and reduces depressive moods. Other studies discovered that students in a computer lab worked 12% faster, were less stressed, and performed better on creative tasks when plants were nearby.
In the 1980s and 90s, NASA conducted a massive clean air study in order to divine the effects that plants have on enclosed spaces such as the ISS. The results helped identify a few species (peace lilies, Boston ferns, snake plants, spider plants, and rubber plants) that are particularly effective at filtering common indoor pollutants. This research shaped a generation of interior design and inspired many an American to add a plant or two more to their mantel or desk.
Often the things that benefit us the greatest are the most subtle in their effect. Hit after hit of TikTok dopamine is something we know we shouldn’t be pursuing, yet millions of us spend a quarter of our waking hours locked onto that hamster wheel. Burgers, ice cream, and fatty ribeyes taste wonderful, but ravage our health (and the planet’s). The world today is a buffet of instant gratification. New markets crop up daily in order to make our every ‘problem’ more frictionless. But this relentless easing has led us to forget where our deepest satisfactions are derived.
The humble houseplant is doing more good than we recognize. Our affinity towards them is evolutionary. Not only did we evolve outside, surrounded by plants, and passed our entire history alongside them, but plants contain many practical advantages for our survival. Foliage provides a bit of stability to the world’s natural chaos. Plant coverage is a temperature regulator and shelters us from the wind, sun, and rain. Forests are teaming with calories too - berries, nuts, and prey. Many plants have medicinal qualities. In some cultures, plants have precious spiritual associations. For the indigenous Shipibo people that I visited in the jungles of Peru, their holiest sites were a few ancient trees known as the Noya Roa (the Tree of Light).
For too long, we’ve prioritized efficiency and immediate application over the acceptance of our flawed humanity. The perfect example of this can be found at the house immediately behind my own. A historic mansion on a hill was bought, refinished, then put on sale for double the price. In the process of this flip, the massive asphalt parking lot was left untouched, but three trees were torn from the curbside so that passersby might have a better view of the For Sale sign.
Tragically, the person who bought the house is a developer with no connection to the neighborhood and so clearly misses what makes our neighborhood so desirable - the massive trees lining every street. Just as with indoor plants, outdoor plants humanize us, shelter us, and give us something to admire during the ceaseless passage of time. Who wants to spend another minute looking at a sweltering parking lot or drab office building?
We need plants. Whether we realize it or not, they make life worth living.
The first experiment that stood out to me while studying psychology in college looked into whether giving residents of nursing homes more choices would make them healthier. In the study, half the population was told they could do things like rearrange their rooms, choose movies, and take care of a plant. The other half were told the staff would care for everything (including watering the plant). What the researchers found was that people in the ‘choice’ group were happier, more active, and got sick less. They talked to others more often, and in a follow-up study eighteen months later, they had a fifty(!) percent lower mortality rate.
Of course, choice is the common denominator in this study, but everyone in the choice group chose to take care of a plant - and benefitted because of it. And sure, this study isn’t meant to say that by taking care of a plant you’ll lower your chance of death by fifty percent, but suggests that merely having something to take care of in this world, even just a plant, makes life that much more enjoyable.
So, the next time you’re passing the plant section of the grocery store, consider picking up something green. It might just save your life.
I know the odds. Almost no first-time authors sell more than a few thousand books. Even rarer is the first-time author who reaches the bestseller lists. The first-time author isn’t a well-known commodity. People simply don’t buy their books. Likely, I’ll sell some copies in the first few weeks then the sales will peter out and The World Walk will drift into obscurity like so many others.
I like to imagine the exception though. Perhaps some big interviews the week of the release will rocket the book onto the bestseller lists. Maybe the writing is so exceptional that it will find its legs in the spring after it’s been suggested over and over again. If the fates turn in that direction it would change my life. I’d be able to write full-time with the confidence that I could make a living through it (right now the pay makes it essentially a hobby).
I won’t get too far ahead of myself. The book is written and I’m proud of it. That’s more than enough for me. The process of putting my story on paper was one of the great pleasures of my life. The previous two years I spent pouring over my journals and photos, then thoughtfully whittling down the stories into a larger narrative was an incredibly satisfying puzzle to put myself up against each day.
The release is less than a month away. I hope the book sells, but I’m not getting those hopes too high.