Nature's cure for what ails us

“Silence was the cure, if only temporarily, silence and geography. But of what was I being cured? I do not know, have never known. I only know the cure. Silence, and no connections except to landscape."

- Mary Cantwell, Manhattan, When I Was Young

Have you ever felt this way? I think the late Ms. Cantwell, author and New York Times editor, touched upon something primal, and essential in most of us: the unspoken, but vital, need to turn away from the chaos (organized and otherwise) of the human community, and connect with the physical world.

During my customary dog walk this beautiful fall morning, I veered from the well-known streets of my neighborhood, and meandered through a woodland path up the mountain behind my home. I could sense the excitement of discovery in the eager way my pooches picked through piles of leaves, tails wagging, and noses close to the earth, scoping out new scents.

As the pups and I made our way through the woods, our only accompaniment was the swish of leaves succumbing to our footfalls, the gentle breeze rustling branches overhead, and the occasional call of a bird or insect. Absent was the hubbub of human activity: infinite cars and trucks competing for a finite amount of road space; chattering pedestrians looking neither left nor right, but straight ahead, issuing directives into cell phones; vendors frantically filling morning coffee orders in nearby cafes. As those noises had receded, I'd felt something give way inside me; a loosening of the seemingly omnipresent tightness in my chest.

The further up the mountain we got, the easier it was to breathe. Eventually we hit a summit, of sorts: a plateau with a little clearing. I watched the wind brush through the long grass like the hand of a great celestial being, giving the ground a gentle tousle, and I thought of all the times I'd done that: lovingly run my hands through my children's hair. The perfection of the memory echoed within me, resonating in nature's reassuring whispers around me. Up here, all was right with the world. There was no need to get caught up in the banal, the everyday worries, or my seemingly endless list of chores, and commitments. Like the leaves overhead, my concerns dropped off, and whisked away, caught on the tail wind of a gusty breeze.

Glancing around, squinting in the sunlight, and taking it all in, I felt a genuine connection. The complete absence of human contrivance allowed me to be my own, authentic self. And nothing more. A fleeting thought crossed my brain, like a current along a charged wire: we live for moments like these. Moments of pure connection. And during this particular moment, the connection I made was with myself. For this second of time I wasn't a mother, daughter, wife. I wasn't striving to reach goals, defending injustices, complaining about perceived slights, or engaged in any manner to the myriad human distractions so innate to my everyday world. I was in a new place, an exotic space without expectation. Just the perfection of life proceeding around me, and within me.

And the dogs liked it, too.