When Concrete Silences the Sacred Wild

When I need inspiration, respiration, a catalyst, or a spark of divinity, I must exit syphilization, stage left, and immerse myself in a comforting bath of wildness. There, the plants, animals, rocks, dirt, and insects conspire in relationship to infuse my soul with a serenity that draws from Earth's vast resources. There is no specific habitat type that anchors me. The biome can be anything from beach to desert, grassland to dense tropical rainforest, and everything in between. The key factor, the space in which I set temporary roots, must feel untrammeled, pristine. I can pretend a worn path is animal-made during their daily searches for food or annual migration patterns. An errant gum wrapper or selfishly discarded cigarette butt are enough to destroy the carefully coiffed illusion I create that I am on a solitary journey seeking connection with interconnectedness.