Why does watching wild places feel like I've already been there?

Nasreddin sat outside his door one hot afternoon, chest heaving, forehead shining, fanning himself with his turban. A neighbor stopped. 'Hodja! Were you just up on the mountain?' 'No,' said Nasreddin, 'but I watched a shepherd climb it in a puppet show last night. See how tired I still am?' This is the trick your evenings are playing on you. A film about wild places gives your body just enough — the colors, the wind sounds, the ache of distance — that the wanting quiets down before your feet ever move. The urge gets fed a small meal and goes back to sleep. You are not lazy and you are not broken. You are alone with a screen that does most of the job of a mountain for none of the effort. Fix that by making the going a group errand, not a private ambition — much harder to skip when someone else is already at your door with a backpack.