A Wanderer's Spirit

That's what they call it right? A wanderer's spirit? Or maybe even just a wanderer. Those who go forever without destination, existing on a path.

It's a strange thing. A detached sort of thing, and yet... it isn't.

To say that the past year or so has changed many things for many people would be tantamount to saying nothing at all. You, as a reader, certainly don't need me to generalize how the world has shifted. You're as much a part of this world as I am.

But, for a while, I can recall feeling as though the world had left me. It was a claustrophobic sort of malaise that made me begin to wonder, to dread, that nature itself had exhumed something primordial, something wrathful unleashed upon my home town and the rest of the world to marshal an era of human silence.

The human race held its breath, and in this vacuum was only our reflections.

What did your reflection look like?

Many of us turned to social medias on a scale that we had never done before. It made sense, and it was the most obvious way to stay connected. Many, still, continued trying to push the world forward, or at least their own lives forward. Yet, somehow the space between us continued to grow. Resentment and spite were, and still are, all too common within the social medias we rely upon to connect with one another. Worse still, western politics grew into a grotesque reality television tumor within these social media platforms, and as we kept to ourselves (or not) this only seemed to feed the fires of uncertainty, fear, and desperation.

Those of us who were blessed, even privileged, to maintain a relative semblance of health were still forced to wrestle with the stark reality towering before us. That looming glass pillar reflecting our own mortal coil. The visage of absolution in an otherwise uncertain world. Alas, the feeling of helplessness in a universe expanding endlessly beyond our reach.

These were the battles that I saw myself, and those close to me fight. I am humbled, yet still trying to reconcile the fact, that innumerable others were fighting a battle far graver than I could ever comprehend.

So... I wandered.

Maybe it was a slow burning shock that coursed through my psyche. Maybe it was ignorance, or even selfishness that pushed me out and into the woods behind my neighborhood. At first I remember skirting tree-lines, sometimes so insecure I couldn't bring myself to go out of sight of my own vehicle. Eventually, my camera came with me. I'm still not sure if this was conscious. I've always loved taking photos, especially of nature, even before understanding how to use the camera.

There was something about putting whatever the natural world showed me into a view finder and hearing the shutter open and close.

*Click*

*Click*

*Click*

(Scroll right or use arrow to scroll through gallery. Click on image to expand.)

I wasn't there to take photos. In fact, I really didn't know why I was there. I just was. And my camera somehow always found its seat riding shotgun. It was my camera that pulled me deeper. Away from my car, from my phone, from the side of the road or lot where I had parked. The little walks turned into excursions. I remember the first time the sun fell beyond the horizon stranding me in darkness perhaps a mile deep in nature.

I remember remembering where I had come from.

The little boy at his grandparents ranch house who refused to come inside for dinner. The smell of damp earth and soft springs of water flowing down the hills. Of grass and trees and something carried by the wind.

Suddenly, yet after so much time, I realized that what I had been looking at in the mirror, wasn't really there at all. What really mattered was where I was looking when I wasn't looking at myself. To push beyond the scope of myself was a lesson hard learned, and so worth it. And I have nature to thank for holding my hand along the way.

All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king.

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring