Nature Kills My Dreams and That’s Okay

Nature Kills My Dreams and That’s Okay
April 16, 2017 Brandon

I like nature. It trumps me every time. It trumps anything that I think about myself, this life, who I am, what I am to do. It leaves me outside of my personality. It leaves me outside of the world I have made–the lists, the connections, the goals. It leaves me out of the illusions and thoughts, expectations and monsters I’ve created that (I guess) live in the closet. The closer I get to nature, the less my fears about my life seem real. Nature is powerful for the obvious reasons, but mesmerizing because it’s completely real. That’s the point. It’s the realest. It’s touchable. Its magic is its life aside from us, and yet it is still generous enough to allows us to touch it. I am not “me” when I am there. I have an inability to drag the LinkedIn profile and “likes,” power and prestige that I have–as an American–been cultivating since, probably, kindergarten. Or as early as I knew that some people didn’t like others for reasons I had not yet learned. This part of me, the psyche part, well, it’s all left behind. Nature has no need for it, therefore, it can’t come with me, cuz, ya know, nature’s the boss. My personality is the electric collar left inside the electric fence. In nature, I am not the animal trained to live in the limits that favors security over freedom and choices. The collar is no longer a treasured object. It means nothing outside the fence. Interestingly, sometimes the collar is not such an obvious by-product of society. Sometimes it’s not the job and the money and the way people see me on social media, in the streets, on TV. It could seem altogether authentic. One day I could find myself sitting on a pile of leaves by the bank of a creek, rolling dirt between my fingers and getting lost in the sound of the water trickling by and notice a twig pass as it makes its way to some place where the creek ends. It wouldn’t matter if the dreams I had dreamed followed closely after the twig, rushing downstream, away from me. It wouldn’t matter anymore than some election in some far off place; it could be real and possible, but I could no longer believe in ownership of such happenings. I could let it go.

1 Comment

  1. Steve 2 years ago


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