Longing.

I live in the midst of artificial, synthetic, immaculate materials.

Masterfully curated experiences and encounters.

Manicured lawns and fingernails.

Macerated, artificial representations of being alive.

Surrounded by concrete and plastic.

The sunlight is calling.

I yearn for something real.

Something organic.

Something that grows.

Something that is constant.

Something that contains blemishes.

The mountains are calling.

The synthetic substances that cover my body, feed my body, occupy my home,

They wear me down and trick me into believing that life is predictable and safe.

They soothe me into a slumber of ease and comfort.

I forget that life is an adventure.

I forget how to be alive.

The breeze is calling.

I want to get my hands dirty.

I need to feel the grit in the crevices of my palms.

I need to feel the energy and power that is contained within the soil.

I need to feel the imperfection of the dirt,

That tarnishes my soft hands and tidy trousers.

The forest is calling.

Incomplete is the man who does not venture outside.

Who does not know the life that exists outside of his virtual world.

Who is unaware of the nature that has been present long before the algorithm fed his every interest.

We are slaves to our placated idea of reality.

We don’t even recognize our severed bond.

The river is calling.

The human spirit longs for nature.

Many suppress it and many ignore it.

Many are unaware that it’s missing.

Many scoff at sweat and dirt and labor and weeds.

But that longing remains an empty void, a connection lost.

The stars are calling.

It’s time to get outside.

It’s time to simplify, time to connect.

It’s time to experience something real, time to live.

It’s time to feel the breeze, dig the dirt, smell the river, touch the tree.

It’s time to go.

Nature is calling you.