When AI Listens but Can’t Feel: Rediscovering Reciprocity with Nature

In the quiet of the forest, we remember how to listen, feel, and give back.

During a recent visit to China, I observed how deeply technology has become entwined in daily life. From families on hikes more focused on selfies than scenery to entire subway cars bathed in the glow of phone screens, the level of immersion was profound. It was the closest I’ve felt to living in the Pixar film Wall-E, a world where real connection gives way to artificial attention.

Digital immersion: even shared public spaces fade to the glow of our screens. Photo by 俊玮 戴

And yet, amidst this digital saturation, I heard a story that gave me pause.

A woman, struggling with long-standing emotional tension with her mother-in-law, began using an AI therapy app. For her, traditional therapy felt culturally distant and inaccessible. But through the app, she began exploring her emotions, practicing new communication patterns, and gradually shifting her responses in real life. The result was a more honest, less reactive relationship that surprised even her.

It’s a powerful reminder. AI can help. It can offer insight, reflection, and even transformation.

But it still can’t feel.

We live in an era of astonishing technological advancement. Artificial intelligence is reshaping nearly every industry, including mental health. Apps now offer digital companionship and therapy-like interactions to millions. For many, especially younger generations, a chatbot provides comfort that feels more accessible than waiting weeks for a human therapist.

There’s no denying the reach or efficiency of this shift.

But I find myself asking: Where does nature fit in here? And more importantly, where do we fit in nature?

Reciprocity means stepping into a mutually beneficial relationship with the natural world, one based on gratitude and love. In this relationship, we don’t just take from nature. We also listen, care, tend, and give back. And in that loop of giving and receiving, something ancient and essential is restored. Healing flows not only to our own human suffering but also to the suffering of the Earth.

Nature Informed Care reminds us who we are:

• We are made of nature.

• We are nature.

• We come from nature.

We’ve simply forgotten.

Technology is advancing faster than our bodies and brains can evolve. The result is a growing disconnection from our inner lives, our nervous systems, our relationships, and the Earth itself. We begin to forget who we are and what we love.

In a world moving at breakneck speed, Nature Informed Therapy invites us to move at the speed of life, not the speed of light. It’s not about instant results or algorithmic solutions. It’s about slowness. Presence. Deep attunement to ourselves, each other, and the living world.

AI can offer insights. It's pretty good at offering solutions, as well as providing affirmation. But it cannot:

• Co-regulate with the rhythm of the forest

• Sense a client's nervous system shift during silence

• Guide someone to ground themselves through the feel of tree bark or the sound of a stream

• Cultivate a reciprocal relationship with place

• Walk beside someone in quiet companionship as their grief rises and falls like the path beneath their feet

I see so much healing occur in my counseling sessions when we focus on the healing medicine that is a healthy relationship. In Nature Informed Therapy, which is grounded in attachment theory, the therapist’s attuned presence and nature’s steady support together form a secure base from which clients can explore, risk, and rewire. This relational medicine is something AI, for all its intelligence, cannot offer. It cannot co-regulate. It cannot attune. It cannot love.

Nature Informed Therapy is a return:

• To presence

• To slowness

• To remembering what we are

Because some things, like shared breath and the feel of bark under your palm, can’t happen through a screen.