Homo Urbanus – How We Traded Roots for Cables

"Environment selects," wrote Darwin. And it’s true. Only today, it’s no longer clear—who is choosing whom.

One day, almost imperceptibly, without grand announcements or declared milestones, the world changed. The year was 2008. WHO published a dry report that most people didn’t even notice – for the first time in history, more people live in cities than in the countryside. And with that, we, almost casually, officially became an urban species.

Homo sapiens, a being that first tamed fire, then the internet, and finally itself—left nature behind, divided into social profiles, and surrendered its thoughts to algorithms that know its desires better than it does.

Since then, most of humanity breathes city air, listens to traffic, and navigates by traffic lights. Nature? It remains on the phone’s background, on calendars in waiting rooms or offices, in some movie, maybe in a park during a walk, and if we’re lucky, we truly experience it on some occasional weekend.

But something got lost along the way. Not suddenly – slowly, almost invisibly. Like a quiet, slow forgetting. American Richard Louv called it nature-deficit disorder. It’s not a disease, not a diagnosis – more like a reminder, for now. A warning that as a species, we were made for connection, not disconnection. When children can’t go outside, they become irritable, restless, confused. And adults? Them too, just in a different way.

Somewhere deep inside, we know something is not right, even though on the outside everything "looks fine."

Louv and other experts also talk about natural neurons. A neurological link between the world outside and the world within us. A connection no screen, no app, no smart device can replace.

Because… we are nature. We are not an invention, but tender, organic beings. With bodies that long for forest air, for freedom of movement, for light that isn’t artificial.

Two weekends ago, I was watching the stars through a telescope from the top of a hill. And at the same time, on my computer, I was watching Canes Venatici (the Whirlpool Galaxy) spiraling closer to another galaxy. Beautiful. When we spend most of our days staring at screens, we lose perspective on how small we really are.

I don’t believe we all need to escape to a cabin in the woods. (Even though I sometimes secretly wish for that.) But I do believe that nature can return to us without us going anywhere.

If we’ve ever forgotten who we are, then the smell of soil might be the first trace back.

Because nature isn’t far away. We can invite it back. Into our homes, offices, cities. All we need to do is create spaces where we feel good. Physical, mental, architectural spaces.

So, how can we bring nature back into the life of Homo Urbanus?

• Plants in offices are not decorations, they are a necessity. They reduce stress, increase concentration, and purify the air. They give us a sense of connection with life.
• Meetings under the trees. Organize your next conference or meeting in a park, in a courtyard, on a rooftop. Studies show that natural environments foster collaboration, reduce conflicts, and boost creativity. People speak differently under trees. Softer. More human.
• A green window in your home. Herbs, succulents, little flowers on the shelf. It’s not about aesthetics – it’s about micro-biological contact. A plant reminds you every day that something is growing. So are you.
• "Walk & Talk." Don’t sit in meetings – walk. Conversations in motion open the mind. Every step brings thoughts that would never come in a meeting room.
• Let digital support the "living." Thanks to my husband, I now believe that digitalization is not the enemy of life – it can be its support. Let’s use it in a way that leaves us time for what truly matters. Technology should serve humans, not the other way around.
• Let cities breathe. Shopping centers, offices, co-working spaces – why should they be sterile? Look at Singapore: their rooftops are parks, their walls are alive. Greenery isn’t a luxury, it’s infrastructure.

If we want healthier people, we need livelier spaces. Let the smell of soil, freshly cut grass, or rain be that trace that reminds us who we are.

And if we already live and work in cities – let’s live with open doors. For nature. And for ourselves.