It happens every time, and independently if I want it or not, I find myself pulled into it.
Parked at the Big Sur Station, I am getting my equipment ready. The plan is to hike to Syke Camp, spend a couple of nights there then one night on the beach and finally hike a 3,000 feet peak nearby.
I should be excited, thrilled and relaxed, but instead I am anxious and worried. I try to focus on making sure that I don’t forget anything—I would really hate finding out that I have forgotten a lens or battery for the camera after a five hour hike and having to return.
Despite all my previous stories written, despite all the photos that I have taken, despite the fact that deep down I know that it always works out, I can’t stop but stress about the uncertainty on if I will be able to find something to write about or find a nice landscape to photograph. Will I be inspired? If so, about what? Will the light be good? Will I see animals? Will the weather cooperate? And what if I don’t have anything to show by the end of the week?
My last story,TIME, was written many months ago in Hawaii. I have since been twice in Alaska, kayaking and hiking a glacier, and even though both were incredible expeditions, I failed to come back with new words. Knowing the reasons why the page has remained blank doesn’t help either.
The creative process is one of the hardest things to find. And even more challenging is to protect that process as the world around you changes. Inspiration is complicated and some are more famous for their bizarre rituals then for their own art.
I love being on expedition—having a set target, a destination to reach, a goal, but it is not what I live and work for. The content that I produce during these adventures is more descriptive—narrating the days, the progression, the ups and downs, the struggles encountered and the magical moments witnessed. It is premeditated.
Inspiration is not really the most important aspect, but rather your ability to deliver the story, to capture the local flavors.
What I long for as an artist is much different. It is when I have the feeling, the sensation that the inspiration has come to me rather than me seeking it. It is that sense of being connected to something else, something bigger. As alone as one can be when creating, knowing that you are only a channel through which your environment expresses itself brings a total different perspective—the loneliness disappears and a deep fulfilling connectedness lives – bringing along a sense of purpose.
I am two hours into the hike and my mind is still stuck in that parking lot. I am walking the trail much like I would walk the sidewalks of New York—focused on the destination and shutting myself to everything else in between—a self defense mechanism we have had to developed to protect ourselves from the constant and relentless assault on our senses from our modern lifestyle.
Instead of enjoying the moment, I feel heavy and distracted. Layers of anxiety rooting from our civilized, moral and intellectual culture weighing on me. My ears are open but don’t hear anything. My eyes are open but can’t see anything. My body is tensed, preoccupied with every uphill steps I have to make. The Ventana Wilderness is full of wonders with majestic Redwoods and beautiful Pacific Madrones, yet, my head looks down—I am a man walking his purgatory!
After five hours, I arrive at the destination tired but wired. Where are the hot springs, where to camp? Quick lets get to work—what can I photograph? I can’t rest. This is work and I must produce!
It is six pm—the tent is up, the backpack emptied, the hot springs have been located and already “enjoyed.” The kettle is on the stove. I am camping on this tiny “island” in the middle of the Big Sur River, a magical set up, yet I am totally oblivious to my surroundings. I am pacing frantically. The steam shoots out from the kettle and I am slow to realize the water is ready.
So much for someone who is supposed to be “one” with nature—pathetic!
I take my cup of mate tea and sit on a log that rests slightly above the river, bridging my campsite to the north shore. My feet hang with my toes dipping in the frigid running water. I take a sip. Then I take a deep breath. Another sip— another breath.
Finally, the moment I have been unconsciously waiting for is starting to manifest itself.
Like the afternoon wind pushing away the morning fog, with every new sip and every new breath, my comatose state starts fading. Free of their societal constraints, my senses awaken from their lethargy. My back arches up. My chest opens up. My ears start tingling to the sound of water swirling around the rocks. My eyes start seeing for the first time an American Dipper just a few feet away, diving for a few second then reappearing with a nymph in its beak. My lungs are beginning to feel lighter. My mind is clear. My heartbeat has slowed down, yet I remain extremely sharp.
By the time my tea is finished, everything feels new and fresh—alive.
In reality though, it is me who has changed, it is me who is alive now. I was closed and sequestered, now I am freed and attuned. I have finally found the state of mind I came here for. And with it came my inspiration. Thought by thought, sentence by sentence, words have come back. Stripped from the confinement of technology and cultural expectations, I was finally at peace with simply one thing—being.
“Nature is pleased with simplicity.” ~ Isaac Newton
“Life is not complex. We are complex. Life is simple, and the simple thing is the right thing.”
~ Oscar Wilde
As much as we want to categorize, compartmentalize, judge, humanize, and beautify nature, for me the “wild” is only one thing—real. Everything is what it is. There are no right or wrong, no bad or good, no judgement. Nothing is pretty, nothing is ugly. A dead tree has as much value as a living one. A fire will benefit some while it will kill others. The prey does everything it can to survive, as does the predator. There are no winners, no losers. No one is more important, yet everyone is connected and interdependent.
Nothing is perfect—evolution is this endless chaotic yet harmonious dance where each adjust to the other, over long long long periods of time. Species adapt or disappear. Continents break while others sink. Still, every morning, the sun rises and brings with it life. And even if this sun stops to shine, another one, somewhere else in this huge universe will illuminate another world.
Independently if we believe and speak about it as a separate entity, in reality we are no different than nature. Quite the opposite, we are nature, and we are intricately part of it. We are nothing more than a footnote in the grand scheme of evolution. Yet we have come to believe that everything revolves around us—that is everything is about us.
Our view of the world is no different then when we thought that the earth was the center of the galaxy. Instead now we see ourselves as the center of Life, of the Universe.
In our quest to conquer—not only territorially, but intellectually and morally, we have lost our connection to the world around us, to the planet and to life. We also have lost our ability to look at our environment (the surroundings or conditions in which a person, animal, or plant lives or operates) and learn from it. We no longer look at nature and use it to understand life—instead we see nature and life as flawed systems that need to be corrected and reengineered under our own perception of what it should be.
We see ourselves as great saviors with god powers!
Our myopia and shortsightedness have made us inefficient and incapable of looking at the bigger picture. We focus on details, obsessing about single events, while loosing perspective of everything else around. Our expertise at extracting data from pretty much anything—important or not, trivial or useless, has transformed our world into an intellectual dump. Buried under so much information and incapable of managing it, we look at technology as our only hope.
Completely lost and feeling powerless, we blindly put our salvation into machines and their ability to “process”—because the only way we can make sense of anything is through numbers, equations, statistics and graphs. Common sense is no longer valued unless it can be measured and quantified.
Sitting on that log, with my empty cup of tea, nothing feels out of place. I don’t feel out of place. The humility brought by the simplicity I find myself surrounded by is relaxing, refreshing and gives me hope. Real and honest is what nature is to me.
It is a constant reminder of the true essence of what life is about. It is my source of inspiration, my elixir for meditation and my most profound teacher.
“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”
~ Marcel Proust
This article has been adapted from the original.
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Editor: Bryonie Wise
Photo: courtesy of the author