What we can learn from cows.

I like to talk to my therapy patients about anxious cows. In a group of peacefully grazing cows, the mere smell of a nervous herd member can send the other cows into a frenzy. With ears pricked and tails twitching, they look for a familiar cow friend, perhaps one who seems a little more relaxed, and the pair begin to lick each other’s heads and lower the heartbeat with a nice, juicy tongue massage.

We’re not so different from cows. We all have ways of shaking each other up and calming each other down. One member of a team at work is worried about a deadline, and suddenly you’re all a little on edge (and then want to head out for a calming happy hour drink). Your partner is annoyed by a neighbor’s noisy renovation project, and before you know it, so are you.

I find that it can be helpful to tell my clients about cows – or elephants or even beetles. I live and work on Capitol Hill in Washington, where you will find The body counts in every library, but I have never had a copy of Frans de Waals Chimpanzee politics. Perhaps The The book should be ubiquitous. In my experience, when you let the animal world into the therapy room, people relax a little. They begin to realize that a dreaded walk home or a conflict at the office is an excellent opportunity to observe fear in a group of animals – metaphorically pulling out a naturalist’s notebook and recording patterns.

Much of the therapy world is disconnected from the natural world. We focus on personality types, attachment styles and diagnoses that are determined by the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (Diagnoses we would never give a cow because they’re just… all cows.) But our emphasis on human uniqueness, while well-intentioned, has backfired and we’ve developed a pattern of labeling many adaptations as dysfunctions. We turn to treatments that focus on the individual rather than seeing how our behavior is part of a group dynamic. We’re less concerned about our place in the grand story of life.

Humans are not inscrutable unicorns. We are products of evolution. Our behavior is influenced by the processes that govern the natural world. Our families and communities are natural systems doing their best to survive and thrive. When I wrote my last book, Loyal to you, It was important to me to use examples from nature to get people thinking about human relationships, because we can learn about ourselves by studying other natural systems, whether it’s a prairie dog town, a termite mound, or a mushroom swarm.

When a client felt ashamed of competing too much with her colleagues, I suggested she learn about elephant hierarchies at the watering hole. When a manager wondered why he couldn’t seem to inspire some of his team members, I pointed out that 25 percent of the ants in a colony barely work. Maybe the answer to why you or your child handle a situation a certain way isn’t buried deep in a stack of psychological research or a therapist’s TikTok dance. Maybe it’s because you’re living beings trying your best to survive out there—just like every other living thing on the planet.

I bring nature into the therapy room not to excuse behaviors, but to make my clients curious about how they and the people in their herd ultimately act the way they do. When people see behaviors as adaptive rather than dysfunctional, they have a better chance of moving on from self-blame. They also stop trying to change others. Instead, they become interested in how the patterns play out and how they can change. her Part of the automatic functioning of the group. You begin to wonder How can I learn to regulate my own fear when there is no one there to figuratively lick my head? And How can I stop my fellow dogs from making me so upset?

Because The is what makes people unique: the ability to break out of automatism and activate our own best thoughts. The ability to not always have to go along with the group. To speak calmly into the phone: “Well, Mom, I think a little differently about this.”

Of course, learning to act differently requires a lot of observation. We can learn something about observing our fellow humans (and ourselves) from researchers who study nature. Here are some books I often recommend to my therapy patients.

If you are overwhelmed by conflict and drama in your relationships, there is no better book than de Waals Chimpanzee politics. After meeting a 30-year-old chimpanzee who acts like a child to elicit pity and a female who tricks two feuding males into grooming each other, you’ll never experience Thanksgiving with your family the same way again.

If you want to build a community or feel more connected with existing friends, Caitlin O’Connell’s Wild rituals will have you stealing ideas from the elephant families she’s studied for decades. When I learned that zebras greet each other with playful winks, I thought about how my friendships might benefit from an elaborate handshake or a ridiculous curtsy.

I learned about the fearful cow licking through Ashley Wards The social life of animalsa great read for anyone who tends to be too hard on themselves and needs a comforting laugh. You learn that cockroaches who have a lonely childhood often have trouble finding love, and that locusts will bite the butt off of the locust in front of them so that the swarm will move in the same direction. (I’ll leave it up to you to decide in which area of ​​your life this metaphor is most useful.)

If you lie awake at night worrying about the future of America, then Thomas Seeley’s Honeybee Democracy shows you how honeybees wiggle their tiny bee butts to make important decisions about the future of the hive. Who doesn’t love a story with a dance competition?

No book can replace the value of being in nature. Even 10 minutes outside can be enough to reduce stress and improve mood. Feeling connected to nature also makes us more aware of the global challenges we face and the role we can play in getting out of this mess. So get outside. Pay attention to which way a sunflower turns or what’s causing a fight among the neighborhood birds. Go to the farm and watch the fear come and go.

I like to ask my therapy patients, “What will sustain your curiosity about your own functioning?” Although curiosity is not unique to humans, it is certainly our superpower. Being interested in life in all forms, enjoying it, being inspired, and being a little persuaded is a strategy I would encourage you to try. Chances are, you will teach your therapist something, to return.