Being somewhere you don’t feel you belong is an uncomfortable situation for anyone. Having been born in the city, it seems pretty unfair that I would feel so out of place there. I am not suited to live with other people, much less 600,000 of them. I moved away as soon as I could, I built a small cabin in the woods. Now I have time to think. Now I have space to create. Nature is my comfort zone. I am better off alone.
Living in the woods has taught me more than any office job could teach. Out here, I’ve found the the world to be completely within reach. Everyone else runs around trying to connect with objects and it’s an aspect of their life that I choose to reject. In the forest, I relate with the green of the trees and close my eyes looking towards the sun, feeling a breeze work it’s way through my hair. I am aware of all the noises. These noises do not include:
Registers clanging, money exchanging
Nervous foot tapping, self-explanation
Knuckles that pop, phones ringing in the backdrop
The buzz of connections paired with disaffections
Useless affirmations and bleak obligations
Further more, in the woods there is no one in need. What the world offers me, is what I’m guaranteed. The outside world only breeds greed with it’s seed at a speed faster than anyone living within it even sees.
In solitude, there’s a different vibe, one found only outside in the wilderness you just have to sit up and take notice. The noises I hear in my ears, are a result of the pines stretching and growing for years. The pop of the firewood, it burns for my warmth. It is my livelihood, everything I can absorb. Its a product of the river, that delivers a shiver to my skin every morning. Goosebumps jump out and pump my blood, crying out, “This is where I belong, these noises are my song, the rest of the world is doing it wrong”.