Day 49: As I despair of futures (those of my country, the globe and my own), I find some small comfort in setting a course by the compass of John Muir's words: "I only went out for a walk, and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in." On the trail, my mind shuts off all conscious thoughts of anything but what is before my eyes and I exist only as a part of the nature surrounding me. I am "home" in a sense that no four walls can convey, however cozy. The atmosphere of soft colours and filtered light dispels the garish glare of frets and worries, the whisper of wind navigating through bare autumn branches drowns out the ugly voices of news and politics. My passage through the environment disturbs nothing more than is absolutely necessary. Time passes, but the metronome beat of the clock is meaningless. Here in truth, I am cousin to the lichens, sister to the stone, grounded and apart from the artificial reality with which we have surrounded ourselves. I find peace in the forest, among my kin.
But I cannot walk in the woods forever, as much as I would like to do. At some point, I must return to the grievously misnamed arena we call "civilization," and face again the horrors of bigotry, hate, environmental insensitivity and greed as fostered by that grand bastard, Donald Trump and his minions. Despair again takes my hand and says, "Come walk with me."
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