getting in touch with Nature.

    All right.  I have been on major bed rest this entire week so I haven't really had time to get outside and tune into my nature side.  However, I'm a bit of a nature freak on my own, even without Emerson, so I can maybe shed some light on past experiences. 

    A couple years ago, my family and I went to stay with family friends who live in Denver, Colorado.  I just have to say, right off the bat, that Colorado is one of my favorite places in the world when it comes to all things nature.  Anyway, their house was not in the city, but outside 

a little ways; paved roads turned to dirt, apartments turned into big houses turned into ranches, etc.  Basically, it was gorgeous.  I'd already had a "wow" moment on the plane ride in, watching the sun set over the rolling grass hills... anyway, I was in love already.  So the next morning, my mom and I decided to take a walk through the side streets and stuff because, well I guess there was nothing else to do really.  We trekked out a bit and the sun peeked through the clouds and I had one ear with an iPod headphone in it and the other ear open to hear my mom's end of the conversation and we were just walking, with no idea where we were going.  It was such a moment of perfection.  I turned off my iPod.  It was early enough that there were no cars or other manufactured sounds>  There was just the sounds of our voices and our feet crunching in the dirt and the feel of the hot, hot, hot summer sun on our shoulders and the view of tree after tree and flower after flower and it sounds so cliche, probably because it was, but there's definitely a reason why it's a cliche.  I know that Emerson said that we had to be solitary in order to really enjoy nature, but this was an example of sharing that enjoyment with another person.  Especially because it was my mother, I, essentially, am her, so maybe Emerson can forgive me.

ps-  this is not my mom.  this is kathryn.  and this is colorado, not exactly where i'm talking about but... go with it.

An example of solitude and nature mixing together is from earlier this year and it's stuck with me as a pretty solid image.  I'd just had a... rough, I guess you could say, well... rough but sweet... complicated.  Anyway.  I'd just had a (insert adjective here) family gathering at my grandma's house.  The gathering basically solidified my aunt's imminent death.  It wasn't the first death I've dealt with, but it hit me hardest, no doubt.  I tried to find solace with a friend, but he wasn't really doin' it for me.  So I drove to the Del Mar beach (not fifteenth street... the one, like, when you're driving down from Torrey Pines?  Down the coast?  Might even be called Torrey Pines Beach) and I parked on the dirt and went for a walk.  I'm honestly not really sure where I walked but it was through a bunch of garden-y things... I wasn't paying much attention to that.  I was paying attention to the setting sun and the thoughts that were zipping through my head.  I didn't have anyone there to hold my hand or wipe my tears or anything.  But it was so... "illuminating".  Emerson talks about how "The name of the nearest friend sounds then foreign and accidental" and that is kind of what I let happen to me on that walk.  I forgot about Marilyn.  I forgot about my family and the

sadness and the denial and I just thought.  I thought about life and about death, as it was foremost on my mind. 

What is interesting to me is how Emerson believes that "Nature always wears the colors of the spirit."  It is not at all so for me.  Nature is a way to clear my head of my own spirit when it's weighing me down.  It's a way to forget about the craziness of my personal life and reflect on something much greater than me... much more stable.  There is nothing, not really anyway, that can remind me of my own personal issues and so they are forgotten.  The specifics, anyway.  Of course, it's a lot harder to actually clear my head so I just think on a grander scale.  Nature has always been like that.  The clouds never spelled out her name and I never saw the ocean paint an image of her face.  The wind never whispered the word "cancer" and the tree trunks never sent pitiful, sorrowful glances in my direction.   I was allowed to think in solidarity and I was allowed to figure out my thoughts, without any kind of opinionated intervention.

The only thing that sucked was walking back to my car and finding the 35$ parking ticket on my windshield.  That brought me back to reality.  Thirty-five dollars was worth it though.   I couldn't have put a price on that particular hour and a half.