Thoughts on being outdoors.
Apr. 1st, 2007 12:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ferineBeing outdoors is integral to my well-being. Even if it's but once a month that I'm afforded the opportunity, the experience is enough to caulk the cracks in my spirit.
Since I rely on others to physically take me to nature areas, I have no choice but to be patient waiting for and wholly appreciative of when the chance arises.
Remote or nearby, mountains or plains, I've come to appreciate nature wherever it crops up. Even a small, empty, weed-choked lot in the midst of a city is, to me, a defiant symbol flipping the bird to urban development. Finches that reside in streetlights, a crow resting atop a tree in a park or beside an office, a fox stealing through the parking lot of an apartment building, small wild flowers flourishing beside sidewalks; all give me a thrill, and remind me that the wild is everywhere to the observant.
Having grown up in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, located in a valley of the Continental Divide, I only experienced the heart of the mountains and vast pine forests. When I relocated four hours east of the mountains, it took years to accept and appreciate the beauty of nature on the plains. Though vastly different from mountain splendor, prairies offer their own distinct loveliness.
Wilderness -- remote, suburban, or urban -- holds healing sway over me. I declare with the honesty and passion of my being, though scientifically questionable, being in nature keeps me from suffering the full extent of my chronic illnesses. It also soothes anxiety and other stress.
Is this related to my connection with Lynx? I should say so, in that Lynx is a facet of the whole of me. All of me is tied to the wild, in all the wilds forms.
Since I rely on others to physically take me to nature areas, I have no choice but to be patient waiting for and wholly appreciative of when the chance arises.
Remote or nearby, mountains or plains, I've come to appreciate nature wherever it crops up. Even a small, empty, weed-choked lot in the midst of a city is, to me, a defiant symbol flipping the bird to urban development. Finches that reside in streetlights, a crow resting atop a tree in a park or beside an office, a fox stealing through the parking lot of an apartment building, small wild flowers flourishing beside sidewalks; all give me a thrill, and remind me that the wild is everywhere to the observant.
Having grown up in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, located in a valley of the Continental Divide, I only experienced the heart of the mountains and vast pine forests. When I relocated four hours east of the mountains, it took years to accept and appreciate the beauty of nature on the plains. Though vastly different from mountain splendor, prairies offer their own distinct loveliness.
Wilderness -- remote, suburban, or urban -- holds healing sway over me. I declare with the honesty and passion of my being, though scientifically questionable, being in nature keeps me from suffering the full extent of my chronic illnesses. It also soothes anxiety and other stress.
Is this related to my connection with Lynx? I should say so, in that Lynx is a facet of the whole of me. All of me is tied to the wild, in all the wilds forms.
