Sunday, March 10, 2013

The post that may never be

I'm slowly working on a political post, but it keeps making mad, so I've been walking away. A lot of things about politics make me mad, which is unfortunate since I was a political science major and now I can barely handle a conversation concerning American politics because all I want to do is make loud "ughhhhhh-"type noises. So, rather than focus on that right now (even though it would likely make me feel better) I'm going to write about what has become probably one of my favorite things in the world.

Being alone in a field or woods by myself. Well, not alone, because my dog is with me, but sans other human life. I have this large field behind my house, which used to be a wooded area but was cleared a few years ago because it was supposed to be a housing development. Then the housing market crashed and the field has been left alone ever since. While I know it won't stay that way forever, I desperately wish it would. If I had millions of dollars, I would purchase the land and make it a conservation area.

When the land was first logged, I was terribly upset. I hate seeing nature destroyed. It's the hippie in me. It was this ugly, brown mark on the land that you could see from the hill across the highway. It was boring, everything was dead. The trees were gone and you rarely saw the wildlife that had previously occupied the land. Then slowly, as nothing was done on the land, nature started growing back. It's all wild, and while there aren't the large trees that had stood before, it's a different kind of wonderful.

The field for me has become my escape. It's silly, because I can still see the houses and hear the highway. But when I put in my headphones, it's as if I am alone, far away from society and all the shit that goes along with it. My dog is running around like a crazed lunatic, and sometimes I see wild animals. The best part though, is how it makes me feel. I feel like I am very comfortably me. Maybe that sounds cheesy, but if you have a place where you are you, without any confusion or worry, then you understand. I feel like the optimum of everything I try to be, where I can face my flaws without worrying about them, or letting them bring me down. I feel.... free. The awesome thing is, this happens to me whenever I am outside, in nature. Or driving alone down a highway where no one else is. It's a pretty powerful feeling, and usually makes me feel better about whatever has been bothering me in my life.

I've pretty much always been one of those people who has to move to deal with serious things. If I want to talk to you about something, I'd much prefer it to be while we're on a walk, or going for a drive. If I'm anxious, I have to get up and do something, I can't just sit. I will also clean when I'm stressed, but having organization has been proven to reduce stress overall in a person's life. For me, I also just have to step away. Being outside is what calms me down. I think I love the field in particular because watching it grow back in to what it is now has been one reminder of something it took me a while to figure out. Nature always wins. It takes time, but it can adapt (evolve-if you will). It also ties in to something I never really realized I believed about my life, but has now become sort of like a motto to me. Remember the tortoise and the hare? How slow and steady wins the race? That's me. I've tried to be the quick mover who accomplishes a lot as a young person, but that's just not me. I'm more patient, and believe things unfold as they are supposed to. Sometimes I do get impatient with my life, wondering why I can't be more. Slowly though, I'm learning that when I truly want something, I don't let it go, and it just takes me a bit longer to get it. I have to remind myself that I will get there eventually, and life isn't a competition.

That's what these walks do for me. They let me take the pressure off of myself, and just... exist. And it is so damn nice. It really is.

1 comment:

  1. Keep writing these. Please. It makes me feel as comforted as when we'd wander around at recess in 6th grade discussing our 12-year-old problems. (Which incidentally aren't all that different from our 23-year-old ones, I'm finding...)

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