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finding-meaning-in-less · 4 years ago

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Retracing the River

Writing as someone who understands the self, even an unknown self, in miraculous fullness...

When I went down to the river, I was excited because it finally felt like I was comfortable being outdoors at Dartmouth. I even felt comfortable using the same methodology as before, which was to wander around and be driven by whim like a child entering a space for the first time. However, last time, I wanted to take in the space of the river as a clean slate, and I hadn’t before considered that I already knew the space, and it would undermine the effort I put in the last time I was at the river to act like I wasn’t there before. When I finally stood outside of Tom Dent Cabin, I realized that to use the same methodology would be like throwing away my previous experience of meeting someone for the first time, and I didn’t want to throw all of that away. So, I altered my methodology to omit the idea of entering a space for the first time.

I didn’t have the same luck as before in terms of enjoying my experience. Without knowing it, I found myself following the steps of where I had previously visited. I was retracing the memory and feeling of calm that I had from the last visit, and before I knew it, I ended up in front of the tree with a lock. It felt like a sign of everything coming together. That even if I felt calm in the moment, everything around me hadn’t changed. The fear of it came back, and the weight of the world fit tightly around my shoulders. Everything came flooding in, and it was like being left to deal with problems with a stranger. It was quiet, and everything around me that I once found comfort in disappeared as the cold air set into my bones. I kept thinking that, in a perfect world, I could drop my fears at the cabin and only bring myself and nothing more, and I could be myself. I could look at the lock stuck in the tree out of curiosity for a second and walk past this lock as myself even with my flaws. I wished I could have sat there and, if I needed to, been able to let everything fall to the ground.

It reminded me of something I like to forget. My family had always taught me that nature was meant for seeking refuge because it healed everything and shielded us from everything. I always thought this came from the fact that we gathered a lot of medical herbs and planted them back in, and it was like a transaction between us and nature. I was taught an ideal relationship with nature that I was never reaching. I thought I would go back to this cultural lens that I had with nature. That’s why I found it frustrating to almost reach this perfect experience the last time I went down to the river without having to give anything, and then still fail at having it again, because it felt like I was denied something I hadn’t earned. I was constantly denied having refuge in a place that I didn’t feel comfortable being in, whether that be Dartmouth or the natural space around Dartmouth. Everything about that visit felt uncomfortable, and I was left sitting with my thoughts in front of the tree with a lock. I didn’t proceed as far as I did before. I was stuck in the layers of barriers between myself and the river, again. Because I expected to have a nice experience near the river again, but there is a history of everything overlapping with fear, pain, sadness, and the need to not deal with all of that at once.

There I was wrestling with the idea of being in nature; I could even go as far as saying life while thinking of the ideal way of being where I was and with whom. Because I have been in the US long enough to see nature differently, but at the end of the day, the lines defined by my childhood between myself and nature stay there, drawn for the most immature reasons, and yet I can’t get rid of them. I was there as an adult who was like a child, following things as they are but questioning everything for what it is. I wasn’t able to find what my cultural lens was, because I didn’t fit into my culture or the Euro-American lens, and my inability to even be able to identify my lens reinforced why I felt like the lock in the first place. Seeing the lock again was like a reality check. I don’t know myself well enough to identify ways in which I see the world. I think that bothered me enough to where I felt very demoralized being next to the river and decided that spending more time there wouldn’t solve anything and left.

I think I associate parts of nature as storage of everything I constantly don’t want to unpack. I struggle with the ideas of being myself there and of who I could have been, and it amounts to feeling more and more lost and ultimately throwing away why I was originally there. It keeps feeling as though I learn so much that I can’t do anything about it. I was left helpless in a space that pulls me in with its energy and color, but dangles moments like the lock in my face. I know that I am not scared of the river or the foliage around it, but instead the shadows of experience that hang around everything. For me, it’s not like I don’t live with it every day, but going down to the river feels like I have to prepare for the worst when going down. This is even reflected in the way I dress when I go down to the river, because in my culture the way you dress is your credibility and gathers respect, and I honestly find myself having a conversation over dressing stylishly or warmly. Because even if everything else is out of control, the small things I can control are reigned in. All I know from this exercise is that I don’t know anything about myself, and what I learned from Beloved is that, without a definition of self, there is no relation to nature. I don’t think I quite understood what that meant before going down to retrace the river in my spot, but now after reflecting, I understood what that meant. Because I don’t know who I am at Dartmouth and where I consider myself to be, between the culture I left and this new American culture. It feels like being blind and knowing of colors, but only being able to imagine what they could be.

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#nature writing #nature #me #my wrtitng #writing

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finding-meaning-in-less · 4 years ago

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Less in Daylight

What tf is this about?

I’ve been mistaken on who I thought I was and who I want to be and these writings may serve as a warning to my future self. Less in Daylight and Finding Meaning in Less are just extensions of what I am working through in myself.

The threat that I might just lose control of my life is very real to me and writing is my haven. I know I am not good at it and through this, I can grow to be better at expressing myself outside of pen and paper.

For the past year, I’ve felt as though I’m not worth my own time. I am not suicidal, because I love living I just can’t seem to find a reason to keep it up every day. I am doing the bare minimum to take care of myself and make progress, but writing has been the most cathartic form of help.

I don’t expect anyone to read this and if you do read: Welcome to the spiral. If you know me in real life you don’t actually know me and that is okay. Also, don’t ask me why I made this into a Tumblr.

Who am I?

I am just a 20-something with no importance or consequence or experience. This is just where I am in my life. All I want to do is explore better ways to live a little, reflect more on it, and repeat.

Hopefully, this will help me find meaning in Less(a.k.a. myself).

Best,

Less

P.S. If you’re still here then interact with the ride and let’s see where we go together.

#my writing #biography #writing

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