My relationship with the outdoors has been an insecure one. I grew up in an urban area where we ran around on sidewalks, sat on concrete, and seldom saw grass. Being in nature was foreign to me until I met my wife. Spending time in her surroundings meant I took on new experiences. I went hiking for the first time, learned to love the beach, and spent most summers at festivals or farms. It felt like I had transferred into a calmer dimension. I slowed down and looked at the things I’d never noticed. Our altered existence grew to be a solace as we aged. Nature provided the space to find a grounded state and escape the prison of my worried mind. Overstimulation lessened when the world slowed.

Our first hike was seven miles long. I didn’t know we’d walk this far ahead of time. The plan was to take the path she found for us to try. It wasn’t difficult according to her, so I was less nervous about the idea of a straighter route. The scenery was gorgeous. It was the first time I saw bamboo or trees taller than I was. It was also the first time I had ever walked away from the comfort of a crowd. There’s a hidden hope in my eyes for safety in numbers and I threw it out the window that day. We weren’t alone on the trail but others remained limited. It was the biggest test of my curiosity. My wife could have walked forever, but the city slicker in me urged her to turn around after a while. I was still a rookie with a lot of learning to do. That was when I found her endless tolerance for nature and thirst for being out in the world and not at home.

My ability began to grow with each trip we took. Being in the green opened my eyes to observe a bird singing to start the morning or celebrate the afternoon. Getting into the outside taught me the comfort of the sun on my skin and the feeling of sand beneath my feet. Stepping away from my safe zone indoors gave me a deep appreciation for my body’s abilities. I gained a massive sense of accomplishment from walking until I exhausted my legs’ strength. Lungs found the healing properties of the natural world and not human-made pollution. There’s nothing more gratifying than a deep breath on a cold morning. What an unmatched sense of peace to have breakfast with my wife on the beachfront watching the water. To be free from the distraction of phones, or our jobs, and talk.

Once I became a quiet observer, Mother Earth had gifts and they kept giving. She offered stillness for perspective, presence, and the needed rest of priority. A retreat to silent confines was not an easy journey. But, as soon as I shut down the noise to listen, I found it was easier to enjoy the simple pleasures and life lessons she had to offer.

Editor: Michelle Naragon