I’m writing this blog because my day in, day out work / commute / whatever feels like a slog through muck and crowds.
I’m writing this blog because my father passed away suddenly two days before Christmas, and I need some strength to find a way forward.
Yes. I need to be outside. I need a framework for my life that includes the outdoors, in spades.
Maybe when I am smarter or more creative, I will figure out how to be outside on the coast of Wales for a month. Or how one writes a book about exploring deserted islands in the Hebrides. Or hiking some ancient temple circuit in Japan.
But for now, I need to keep my job in Manhattan. I need to keep my house in Sea Cliff, a little village by the sea on Long Island. And most of all, I need to inject as much outdoors, as much wild, as I can into my day.
I can’t say why I need to be outside. Here is what I know about it, though: Time doesn’t stop. It’s racing by, all the time, and it definitely gets faster as you get older. When I was little, I had to race to catch up with my tall father, who walked briskly and, as he said, with a purpose. I kept trying to tug on his sleeve, and ask him to pause a moment. It's the same thing with time, only there's nobody to actually talk to. Let me take this in, please, just for an extra minute? Right.
But in face of this ridiculous sensation of time speeding up incessantly, I find that being outside is what helps things calm down. Taking a long walk. Climbing a mountain. Pausing to see the sunset from the cliffs. Taking an extra moment to stare at a winter night’s bright sky. Exploring the angles of the tidal pools in Sea Cliff harbor, day after day. Looking for herons early in the morning at low tide. And so on.
So, I need to work. I need to stay put. Like most of us, right? But I need to shift around some priorities. Outside of my obligations, my priority is getting outside. Wherever I can, whenever I can. Yes.
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