After having lived a year in a more rural quarters, I yearned to move somewhere with more activity, to once again be part of the hustle and bustle of downtown.
I felt set to the side, placed in a quiet corner of the campus. When I was young, I did something I knew was bad, and when my parents found out, I sentenced myself to stand in the corner for a half hour to think about what I had done. Last year I placed myself in this corner of the campus, strangely compelled to think about my transgressions against nature. I love my city, but how could I abandon the bucolic landscape from which I was raised? Each time I opened my window to the sound of wind tugging at the leaves and birds' sweet song, I felt guilted to hum along for a few bars. It was my penance as a human who has strayed so far from nature, and I strove to forgive myself in this romantic way.
We no longer possess the same relationship to a flowing field or a shaded bower that we once had. Why is it that we can look at a maple or a rose and be taken away by the inherent beauty in each? Why is the hunt of a bear deemed majestic, or the flight of a hummingbird nimble? What are these adjectives if not human invention? We attribute to nature our very own man-made qualities, and thus imbue ourselves into the trees, flowers, animals from which we have strayed so far. Some people do this because they cannot conceive a better way to describe nature, but I and many poets do it out of guilt and longing.
As I lie in my fifth floor bed and hear nothing but the hum of an air conditioner, knowing well that opening my window now would only invite the sound of passing motors and vociferous pedestrians, I feel a pang of regret in the pit of my stomach. I find it much easier to get to classes on time, to see friends, to find food at eateries, but the subtle lack of the soft song of the wind and birds makes me gray, mass-produced, and easily interchangeable. But at the same time, the grass grows greener inside of me, grows lush and pillowy, awaiting my lazy body to lie into its cool, moist embrace. Someday soon.
i long for the green pastures with a sheep locked outside of its herd because of its curiosity and adventures from my college hostel room window.... » renaye
on 2007-10-03 12:02:22
Personally I'm not much for nature. Could be because there really isn't anything to really look at here, though. You get used to it. :| » randomjunk
on 2007-10-03 01:48:13 I think that's why so many people like Colorado.
It's got the convenience that comes with big cities, and also the Rockie Mountains.
I love to go hiking, walking amidst the trees, taking in the scent of the outdoors. It's a good break from my suburban life every now and then. » invisible
on 2007-10-03 02:42:21
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