Something shifted for me recently. I noticed my neighbourhood — actually noticed it. The cliffs, the sea, the parks, the air that fills your lungs without resistance. I’ve been walking through it every day, but it took time for my nervous system to recalibrate enough to feel the difference.

And then I went into the city. For the first time in my life, I could smell it. Not a specific thing — just the city itself. The accumulated weight of exhaust, concrete, food, people, and machines pressing into your airways. I’d never noticed before because I’d always been soaking in it.

Here’s the thing though — I don’t want to give up the city entirely. The events, the art, the randomness of strangers, the energy of a place where things are happening. That matters. A life surrounded only by nature is peaceful, but it can drift toward stillness that stops feeling restorative and starts feeling empty.

What I’ve landed on is this: it’s better to live outside the city, close to nature, and come into the city when you choose to — than the other way around.

The difference is what becomes your default. When you live in the city, your baseline is noise, density, and sensory overload. Nature becomes the escape. But when you live near the coast or the trees, your baseline is calm. The city becomes the adventure — something you opt into deliberately, on your terms.

Your default state should be the one that restores you. Everything else is a visit.