Being inside is great when it’s freezing cold or incredibly hot outside; it’s why we humans created shelters, after all. Otherwise, I’d rather be in the open air. Indoors is honestly just too dull for me: you have the hum of the air vent, the rustling from other people, and the occasional door opening in the hallways. That’s it. Being outdoors is completely different; it’s alive. It’s life at it’s best: the trees talk and dance like ancient tribes; the birds chirp and sing like gossipers on a Sunday; the flowers, grass, and weeds reach longingly towards their sun god; the clouds drift by like great airships of distinguished individuals; the wind whistles and flows, caressing anything and everything it can, teasing the rooted and grounded world; the water runs, rushing among the empty and overflowing the full, reaching depths unimaginable; the ground rumbles and shifts slowly, adjusting like an old woman in her throne; and the animals scrounge, scurry, stalk, prowl, battle, compete, have sex, fly, swim, walk, hop, gallop, migrate, kill, consume and die to replenish the energy taken from Mother Earth.
This is where we came from; without this we are nothing. Every human recognizes the connection within them, but many have grown oblivious and numb to the voice that speaks within.
Do you listen, readers?