Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity. —John Muir
Above: The mountains are calling and I must go write.
If we take the time to look up every once in a while, we catch a glimpse of what writer Saul Bellow called “unexpected intrusions of beauty.”
Majesty is everywhere to be found if we just pay close attention. As I wrote in Boring is Beautiful:
[T]he world holds tremendous grandeur as long as we allow ourselves to truly see it.
There is so much material to be found in the monotonous, in the minute.
We simply have to get out of our own way.
To me, the art of getting out of your own way—of living—lies in becoming sensitive to the little things.
Things like:
A child delirious with laughter.
A night’s sky peppered with glinting stars.
A heaping gulp of cool, fresh air.
A quiet (or very loud, in my family’s case) night spent playing a board game.
A tight hug from a loved one.
The key is to pay attention and see the minutiae as miracles in and of themselves.
Invest your attention into the art of living.
Remember, against truly staggering odds, two things happened:
One, the universe.
Two, you.
A recent trip to Maine’s Acadia National Park reminded me of this.
More specifically, it was the moment of awe that flooded me when I entered the lush forest’s woody embrace.
Though this feeling is not new, the concept of forest bathing—of immersing yourself in the fresh, cool atmosphere of the woods—is.
Per the Cleveland Clinic, what the Japanese call 森林浴 (i.e. shinrin-yoku) “[has] only been around since 1982…[and is] based on three different traditional concepts: yūgen, komorebi and wabi sabi.
Yūgen is about being so keenly aware of the beauty of the world around you that the deep emotions you feel can’t be expressed with words.
Komorebi literally translates to “sunlight leaking through trees.” It describes the relationship, or interplay, between the sun and the leaves.
Wabi sabi celebrates the beauty of imperfection and impermanence.”
Talk about unexpected intrusions of beauty!
These untranslatable words that come from near and far delight this stooped scrivener almost as much as a good book or a punny pun does.
The simplicity of some belie their complex denotation, and vice versa. For instance, what the Japanese call yūgen, the Germans call waldeinsamkeit and the Serbs, merak.
Not only do these feelings cross cultures and languages, so too do their psychological and physiological benefits. Consider this city-slicker intrigued.
And so, refreshed from my rendezvous with the wild, I leave you with a poem to capture the greatest show on Earth: Nature.
Think of it as a cheeky, verbal souvenir from The Pine Tree State:
Maine’s Sylvan Show
Step right up to the Sylvan Show!
Our wares are many tho’ time’s running low.
The music of the stream, the silence of the roots,
The creaking of the limbs, the frailty of the shoots.
The town’s all here—it’s the Maine event,
Time in the woods is time that’s well spent.
So come one, come all to this verdant land,
The air’s cool and fresh, the mountain, just grand.
Enjoy, enjoy the Maine Sylvan Show,
Where you lose your mind and find your soul.
Per my about page, White Noise is a work of experimentation. I view it as a sort of thinking aloud, a stress testing of my nascent ideas. Through it, I hope to sharpen my opinions against the whetstone of other people’s feedback, commentary, and input.
If you want to discuss any of the ideas or musings mentioned above or have any books, papers, or links that you think would be interesting to share on a future edition of White Noise, please reach out to me by replying to this email or following me on Twitter X.
With sincere gratitude,
Tom