Marks Daily Apple
Serving up health and fitness insights (daily, of course) with a side of irreverence.
22 Aug

Sheltered: Missing the Primal Power of Nature

mountainsIn her book about human-animal relations, Made for Each Other, Meg Daley Olmert tells the story of C.J. Buffalo Jones, a 19th Century frontiersman who, in her words, “witnessed one of the last demonstrations of the natural order that shaped the logic of our ancestors” and left record of it. “On a hill in Canada’s Northwest Territory,” she explains, “he watched herds of caribou congregate until all the eye could see for ten of miles around was a giant mast of animals whose antlers became a mighty forest. For several days this living landscape flowed past him day and night.” The number, which Jones estimated at 25 million, absolutely staggers the modern imagination.

Whether or not his approximation was accurate, still the size and force of such an experience seem beyond comprehension. Yet, it’s exactly the kind of natural event that inhabited our ancient ancestors’ communal consciousness and, not surprisingly, directed their cosmology. As Olmert suggests, it’s a major mental stretch for us moderns “to fathom a world in which we were not the top predators.” Yet, we evolved not in a state of dominion but coexistence, observance and even reverence for nature’s many forces.

What a far cry from our experience today of course. Few if any of us (at least among the Internet connected readership) live at the whim of wilderness anymore. Our society has done a good job at erecting a pretty solid wall between us and these experiences. For better and worse, the power of nature can feel like a remote concept at least in day to day living. Seldom are we humbled by it with the exception of random, localized weather emergencies.

Even if we fit in our “green hours” and get the kids to the local preserves on a regular basis, even if we live in the countryside, even if we’re avid outdoors people, as great as these are, there are whole dimensions we miss, I believe. How many of us have ever hiked – and camped- above the tree line? How many have come face to face with an animal predator? How many have taken on a wave or mountainside that could easily undo us? The beauty of nature is one thing. The power of it is another.

Anyone who’s ever sat with a dying animal (dying by natural/hunted means), experienced first hand true natural devastation or had a genuinely life-threatening run in with the wildlife knows what I mean here. Experiencing the wild world in all it’s glory means encountering its fierceness as much as its grandeur, the danger as much as its sublimity. As reader Kyle Rife put it to me in an email when describing a nasty experience with a hive of yellow jackets he’d had, it was somehow “satisfying,” this “encountering nature and losing.” I think there’s something essential and revealing to that.

While nature was the living, looming backdrop of our ancestors’ experience and imagination, for many of us moderns it can seem more like postcard material – remote places we go “visit” that have relatively little meaning to our lives or how we perceive them. When we manage to get out of the city or suburbs or farmland to spend time in the wild, we definitely enjoy ourselves. The day or weekend or week fulfills a primal desire but probably also modern expectations – a story much tamer than frontiersmen, let alone hunter gatherers, would’ve witnessed. No judgment. That’s simply the age we live in.

What happens, however, when we change not only our itinerary but our attitude? It’s not about consciously donning a Grok style mindset but more about shedding the modern mental baggage to even give our primal awareness room to breathe. We can head deeper into the woods, farther into the state or national park, but it’s ultimately about letting go of expectations, being in the moment and encountering the particular environment fully on its own terms – as a force as well as a setting.

What’s possible when that happens? What opens up? What rises to the surface? How do we come away changed as a result? Do we need the hair-raising peril to get in touch with that humbling energy? I’m guessing it helps but isn’t necessary. The days of massive migrations are gone, and seeking out danger is as foolhardy now as it would’ve been in Grok’s day. Perhaps there’s something to the authentic fight or flight response though. An encounter with death, after all, can be profoundly life affirming.

Yet, brush with death or major injury aside, I think there’s plenty of room for our experiences in nature to change us without threatening life and limb. For me sometimes it’s just spending the day in the dustiness and brightness of the SoCal chaparral. In the face of something bigger and harsher, we can come undone – bared down to our essential primal humanity. We can perhaps imagine a kindred hunter gather spirit some 20,000 years earlier gazing with the same open observance. It’s enough to take us out of ourselves and put us at the center of life – a force greater than our own, an experience more timeless than our individual existence.

I think that’s when we get at the heart of it – when, for so many readers who write me about this – Primal living becomes a way of seeing and experiencing parts of life, particularly the natural world and their part in it. Once you’ve felt that inherent energy and ancient sense of proportion, you gain a different (some would argue pretty counter cultural) perspective on modern life. You live less sheltered and more grounded for it.

Thanks for reading, everyone. Have a good end to the week. Share your thoughts and comments.

You want comments? We got comments:

Imagine you’re George Clooney. Take a moment to admire your grooming and wit. Okay, now imagine someone walks up to you and asks, “What’s your name?” You say, “I’m George Clooney.” Or maybe you say, “I’m the Clooninator!” You don’t say “I’m George of George Clooney Sells Movies Blog” and you certainly don’t say, “I’m Clooney Weight Loss Plan”. So while spam is technically meat, it ain’t anywhere near Primal. Please nickname yourself something your friends would call you.

  1. That’s it! Anyone down for a week long hiking/camping trip at Mt. Rainier?

    Clack_Attack wrote on August 22nd, 2013
    • I’m down! hahaha!

      Sadly, I find this post to be almost too relate-able. I rarely get out into nature, and when I do, it’s not as “deep” or “profound as I’d imagine it to be. Maybe it’s because I never stay long enough, or am afraid of getting too dirty or doing something too dangerous, or am stuck using glasses to really see anything (which makes it less enjoyable).

      *Sigh*

      Mark P wrote on August 22nd, 2013
      • Try to live in the moment when you get out there. That’s the only way to connect, otherwise you may be physically present, but mentally still at work, chatting (text/call) with friends, or planning the next thing you’ll be doing… let life slow down when you are outside, and you will get there mentally as well. Focus on the trees, the grass, the wind, the bees, the insects… don’t think of them as pests, but rather “locals” trying to live their lives; to them you are the pest.

        Lately I’ve been trying to get bees to land in my hand (someone has to be friends with them..). thusfar unsuccessful, but the quest continues! :)

        Josh wrote on August 22nd, 2013
        • I don’t get that “cleansed” feeling unless I have at least part of the hike to myself, where I’m not talking to anyone who’s with me. I have a few friends with whom I can do that, and they’re my preferred hiking companions. I’d like to go by myself sometime, but I’m not comfortable with the risk.

          Darcie wrote on August 22nd, 2013
        • @Darcie, I can relate to this. Sometimes I feel like people are merely making noise (“talking”, some call it) to fill the emptiness… when they should really be embracing it.

          Josh wrote on August 22nd, 2013
        • I actually love going out hiking by myself, so I don’t have to hear everyone else’s chatter…but then I end up talking to myself to sort out my head! When I suddenly notice that I haven’t said anything for a while, then I know I’m in the zone and entirely peaceful. Inevitably, I’m refreshed upon my return.

          Tracy wrote on August 23rd, 2013
  2. Hmmm… I think it’s only when you fail, that you realise your limitations (and either decide to live within them, or do something about it). I can see why that knowledge would be satisfying…

    Scott UK wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  3. living in the middle of a city, its shameful what’s become “nature” to me: a perfectly manicured park. the wildest animal: squirrels who are practically trained pets, they are so used to being around people. thats… probably not a good thing :)

    Charlotte wrote on August 22nd, 2013
    • Don’t forget the trees that are growing out of the 3′ x 3′ space in the sidewalk.

      Tom T. wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  4. I don’t think trading our cow for these magic beans was very wise. Besides, they’re just high alkaloid legumes anyway!

    Groktimus Primal wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  5. A wilderness area and a vivid imagination seem enough to produce this state for me. I think of going to wild, rugged, empty beaches in Point Reyes National Seashore. It gives me a chill thinking about being a Native American Grok there. No doubt a long journey far into a wilderness would produce stronger feelings but that isn’t likely to happen any time soon.

    On another note, I’m convinced that we are all going to be experiencing major natural disasters soon enough.

    Harry Mossman wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  6. You can still see the AWESOME caribou migration in Alaska and Canada. My husband and I have seen it twice, camping and paddling on the banks of the Noatak River and base camping in ANWR. Life changes when you isolate yourself from technology for two weeks and just live with nature.

    Colleen wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  7. ready to live in the wilderness – give me the northern (BC) Rockies for life please

    lockard wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  8. A couple weeks ago I was in a badly leaking tent in a thunderstorm on the shore with no tree cover. This did make me rethink my relationship with nature, but not in a way that made me want less shelter.

    Julie wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  9. Mentioning Mt. Rainier made me homesick for just a minute. The only thing roaming wild and free around here are stray cats and homeless people.

    Wenchypoo wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  10. The one that really brought it home for me recently was Yellowstone, especially if you go in the early hours/off season so there aren’t so many people. The volcanic features really hit home that it is a giant super volcano, ready to blow. I remember this one large steam vent called dragon’s tounge that sounds like a dragon breathing, including big gouts of steam. It was humbling and awe inspiring at the same time, and really made you think about nature’s power and how little we can really do about it.

    YvonneJean wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  11. Such a bittersweet topic for me. I live in downtown Los Angeles, and so, yes, I’m pretty disconnected from nature on a regular basis; however, I don’t want to get into a mindset where I feel like the connections I do get to experience aren’t valid. The older and more health-conscious I get, and the longer I continue with the Primal lifestyle, the more I crave connection with nature. And the more I seek that connection, the more I am able to see that I am indeed still part of nature despite all the trappings of modern urban life that surround me. L.A. is bordered by foothills to the north, which have vast stretches of undeveloped land; I see hawks and other wild birds fly above me on a regular basis, even in the middle of downtown; I work in a high-rise on the west side with a fabulous view of the pacific ocean; the balcony on my third-floor apartment is close to the treetops, where I get to see birds build nests and hear their song first thing in the morning; I watch the sun set from that same balcony in the afternoon, and at that time, as I turn off my overhead lights and switch to the orange nightlight, I am reminded I am connected to the rhythm of nature. I guess it’s a far cry from experiencing the majesty of, well, any of the dramatic natural experiences Mark describes above. But, cultivating the connection to nature in my own heart and mind is extremely therapeutic. On the weekends, I like to go for mega-long urban hikes through downtown, and even though I’m surrounded by urban development, (and often, outright urban decay), I can look up and see the sky, feel the sun on my skin, see the mountains in the distance, and know that I’m still walking on the earth, concrete notwithstanding. I am a child of the earth and nothing can take that away from me. The more I cultivate that inner awareness, the greater my sense of peace.

    tkm wrote on August 22nd, 2013
    • I really love this comment.

      Christin wrote on August 22nd, 2013
      • thanks!

        tkm wrote on August 22nd, 2013
      • Me too! :)

        Cal wrote on August 22nd, 2013
    • Well said. Pretty much how I feel but I’m not there in LA. Nice to hear another person who can appreciate the beauty that we are able to experience where ever we may be. Thanks for your lovely post.

      2Rae wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  12. Good post.

    Ponee wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  13. Mark, I’m happy to see you writing more and more about the natural world.

    Coincidence? But since adopting a primal lifestyle I want to be out in nature more than ever. And this weekend I’m heading to Maine’s magnificient Baxter State Park for 3 days of hiking, swimming and quiet!

    Peter wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  14. hey i wrote a stupid, hatefull, unfounded comment a few weeks ago. it was completely unfounded. i was not in a good state at the time. Please disregard it. And supplements have aided and benefitted my body.

    joe wrote on August 22nd, 2013
    • Joe–everybody makes the occasional misstep. Not everybody has the grace to admit it, though. Glad you’re feeling better.

      Janey wrote on August 22nd, 2013
    • Wow, Joe. Spoken like a gentleman. Thank you, and best wishes for the future.

      Matt wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  15. The natural world is our true home. We have become so disengaged from it. We will pay the price someday. As my old wilderness teacher, Tom Brown Jr. used to say, “If you have no place you need to be, you can never consider yourself lost in the woods.”

    Nocona wrote on August 22nd, 2013
    • Wow, I read me some Tom Brown Jr. back in the day. Now that man made me want to live in the woods and track some stuff.

      Basil Cronus wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  16. I live on the East Coast and have easy access to the Atlantic ocean. Being out in the ocean (when you cannot see the land) drives home for me how powerful Mother Nature is…

    Leo wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  17. Liquid Mountaineering! Running on water.

    chris wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  18. I was a Rotary Exchange student in Argentina in 1994. I participated in two major trips and with both of them Duncan Chase, our Rotary mentor, had us participate in moments of quiet reflection, alone with nature. These were profound experiences, but I didn’t fully appreciate them until reading this post today. I was a Girl Guide for most of my life, but haven’t been camping since 2007. I’m taking my boys (2 and 4) and their father, camping this weekend.

    This post also makes me think a song we sang in Girl Guides –

    Have you ever seen the sunrise turn the sky completely red?
    Have you slept beneath the moon and stars with a pine bough for your head?
    Have you sat and talked with friends, though a word was never said?
    Then you’re like me and you’ve been on the loose.

    On the loose to climb a mountain,
    On the loose where I am free.
    On the loose to live my life,
    The way I think my life should be.
    For I’ve only got a moment,
    And a whole world yet to see,
    And I’ll be searching for tomorrow, on the loose.

    There’s a trail that I’ll be hiking
    Just to see where it might go.
    Many places yet to visit,
    Many people yet to know.
    And in following my dreams,
    I will live and I will grow,
    On a trail that’s out there waiting, on the loose.

    So in search of love and laughter,
    I’ll be travelling through this land.
    Never sure of where I’m going,
    For I haven’t any plans.
    But in time when you are ready,
    Come and join me, take my hand.
    And together we’ll find life,
    Out on the loose!

    Karen wrote on August 22nd, 2013
    • Oh, I like this song. Have fun camping.

      Susan B. wrote on August 22nd, 2013
    • Nice song! Of course, as soon as I read the first line, I broke in to….

      Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon?
      Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grins?

      I might have to have myself a Disney moment before or after I go hiking today!

      Deanna wrote on August 25th, 2013
  19. So thought provoking, Mark. Thanks! There must be a happy medium between the danger, discomfort, and precariousness of primitive living on one hand and, on the other, the unhappiness of the human zoo that most of us inhabit. Like Leo said above, the ocean provides some kind of nourishment and healing for me. But even there you have chartplotters, satellite phones, EPIRB’s, etc. If you use them you are not really disconnected; if you don’t use them and something happens…well that seems dumb. I don’t know the answer.

    Matt wrote on August 22nd, 2013
    • Try bringing them and not using them. “I’d rather have it and not need it, than need it and not have it.”
      Simply leave them powered off until and unless something happens. And put away in a not-readily-accessible place with the batteries out, if need be.

      Bill C wrote on August 24th, 2013
  20. Reminds me of this

    “The sea’s only gifts are harsh blows, and occasionally the chance to feel strong. Now I don’t know much about the sea, but I do know that that’s the way it is here. And I also know how important it is in life not necessarily to be strong but to feel strong. To measure yourself at least once. To find yourself at least once in the most ancient of human conditions. Facing the blind deaf stone alone, with nothing to help you but your hands and your own head.”
    ― Christopher McCandless

    Sean wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  21. I just returned from a 50 mile backpack with my son’s Boy scout troop in Yosemite. Once you get more than 10 miles or so from a trailhead you stop seeing people. And once you get above about 9500 feet you stop seeing non-native plants. And once you are above treeline you are looking at scenery very much like what the native Paiute and John Muir for that matter would have looked at.

    I love the backcountry: its so raw, and smoky, and hail-filled, and star-studded, and boulder-strewn and crazy-loud with rushing water and wind thru the conifers. It makes me feel conected to all the people, animals and plants who came before me and will be here after me. It makes me feel humble and proud all at once, to just be there, even for a few days and marvel at all. I am just a small link in the chain of life.

    I wish everyone had a chance to experience that firsthand instead of standing in line for a soft serve at Degnans Deli in Yosemite Village while they feed the chipmunks.

    Mimulus wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  22. This post bums me out. I used to live in Nebraska, and we went and watched the Sandhill Crane migrations which is magnificent… and I also used to live in Connecticut, and it’s fairly easy to “get back to nature”… now I am in Louisiana, and it is too hot to go outside, and if it’s not too hot, it’s too buggy, and if it’s not those things, then there is just NOWHERE to go. (If I were in New Orleans or on a lake, that would be a different story, but I am landlocked in sprawling Baton Rouge). Anyone have any ideas?

    Kelsey wrote on August 22nd, 2013
    • We live in Baton Rouge as well! There are ways…though I’m halfway out of town (in my mind anyway) to the foothills of North Carolina. You should email me – I get the fam out there a decent amount and it would be great to connect with a local grokster. raetzsch at geemail dot com

      Alvin wrote on August 25th, 2013
  23. Good post

    Every weekend (Sat & Sun) and usually 1 -2 days during the week, my fiance & I are roaming the woods in the Oregon Coast Range with our longbows stump shooting, practicing abo skills, enjoying nature all year long, in all weather conditions.
    This weekend is the start of our archery deer & elk seasons where we try to put very organic healthy meat in the freezer. I’ve never felt closer to my ancestors than when drawing a arrow back on a deer/elk and the experience that comes afterwards.
    We both work full time jobs and have to drive 10 to 15 miles where we have access to the woods, plus having to give up other activities to free up time to do so, but it’s well worth it.

    It’s better to be a active participator in nature than a mere observer. Dedicate the time, you’ll be well rewarded.

    Jerry wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  24. I can relate to the yellow jacket encounter having an odd “satisfying” feeling later…last winter I was nearly trampled by a moose. While it could have been much, much worse, being that close to major injury by a wild animal was a reminder of nature’s power. Living in Anchorage, seeing moose is not rare, but I always take the time to admire their beauty and now, their power.

    This was just a fantastic post. Very thoughtful and thought-provoking. My favorite kind. Now I need to check my calendar to see when I can go camping next.

    Stace wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  25. 25 million caribou? Did I read that right?
    And people freak out when they see a spider or a cockroach in their house! We are completely disconnected from our environment and the ecosystem.
    But I still hate that mouse in my kitchen.

    Madeleine wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  26. Funny Mark mentions hiking above the tree line. I commented the other day about spending a few months at a research camp in the Colorado mountains (my favorite place in the world) and encountering a bear at my cabin door. We drove/hiked above the tree line one time with a view of nothing but more mountains. It was one of the most exhilarating experiences I’ve ever had. Even though our hair literally standing on end from the electricity of a storm nearby (that was probably pretty stupid, could have been struck by lightning)I never wanted to leave. I recall making plans at that moment to build a house there and stay forever.

    Ellen wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  27. You, who dare to regard us as the moral inferiors of any mystic who claims supernatural visions-you, who scramble like vultures for plundered pennies, yet honor a fortune-teller above a fortune-maker-you, who scorn a businessman as ignoble, but esteem any posturing artist as exalted-the root of your standards is that mystic miasma which comes from primordial swamps, that cult of death, which pronounces a businessman immoral by reason of the fact that he keeps you alive. You, who claim that you long to rise above the crude concerns of the body, above the drudgery of serving mere physical needs-who is enslaved by physical needs: the Hindu who labors from sunrise to sunset at the shafts of a hand-plow for a bowl of rice, or the American who is driving a tractor? Who is the conqueror of physical reality: the man who sleeps on a bed of nails or the man who sleeps on an inner-spring mattress? Which is the monument to the triumph of the human spirit over matter: the germ-eaten hovels on the shorelines of the Ganges or the Atlantic skyline of New York?

    Ayn Rand wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  28. As I read this it made me sit back and appreciate what I have. I live on the edge of civilization on the Alaskan highway. Just got back from planting 5200 trees in the city. My job is to reclaim land that has been messed up from human population. Thanks Mark, for sharing this artical with us.

    Tim wrote on August 22nd, 2013
    • How does one get a job like that? What are the qualifications? It sounds amazing…

      s. l. wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  29. Hmmm…… I thought that one of the attributes of the male WAS a willingness to take on risk. Partly because those who cannot take a risk for themselves will not take it for others.

    Churchill wrote that courage was the pre-eminent virtue, and I believe that he is right. Without courage we do nothing difficult or dangerous.

    I work in a high-risk industry, agriculture, and also fight wildfires. As I look at the determined efforts of government to surround us with the padded cell of regulation, I realise that it strangles initiative and effectiveness. Personal safety is more important than the safety of others…. That isn’t a satisfying life!

    There is no free lunch. There was a time when testosterone-fuelled young men took pride in taking on dangerous work. Now they do not have that option, so they revert to non-productive risk, like freeclimbinng and basejumping, antisocial risk like binge-drinking and violence, or bury themselves ina fantasy world of computer gaming….. The ultimate assertion of control is suicide. Think about that.

    I have long thought that if I ever had children, they would get some “dangerous” toys. They would get the pony or the mini-bike. Sure, I may have to cart them off to hospital a time or two, but they would learn to judge risk and consequence. They would know what pain feels like before they were old enough to drive a car or go shooting without adult supervision.

    I know what it is like to experience disabling physical injury without immediately-available help. There is satisfaction in the knowledge that I could deal with those circumstances. I wouldn’t recommend it if you have the option, but it is not something to be feared so much that we become a captive of our own fear. To quote Churchill again, ” it is better to die fighting than to live as slaves!”.

    There are still opportunities to experience the power of nature without being foolhardy (which mostly means that others suffer if we stuff up). Join a volunteer emergency service and head toward the kind of situation that causes others to flee. Wildfire-fighters live with tbe knowledge both that we cannot control the big ones (we just minimise damage until the weather moderates) and that even the small ones can be terminally unforgiving if you take them lightly.

    I’ve seen tbe worst wildfires and the worst droughts in living memory. I’ve sandbagged buildings against the highest flood this century. I’ve hunted – not just sat in camp but actually hunted – on a weekend in which 10 inches of rain fell. It was unsuccessful, uncomfortable and could have been inconvenient if the roads had been cut before wryly out,,, but you don’t get epic stories or test yourself on the living-room couch.

    Peter.

    Peter W. wrote on August 22nd, 2013
    • Peter

      This is almost exactly the post I was formulating in my head. I’ve been a firefighter for over 22 years now, and have always been a back-country camper, canoeer and kayaker since my youth. It’s difficult to get the life/death experience in the wilderness now, at least where I live in eastern Canada, but I was going to suggest that anyone who wanted to experience raw life or death situations consider the fire service.

      Fire is as elemental as big gnarly teeth, and if you fight it long enough, you’ll have enough experiences that you’ll fear nothing and be at peace with any doubts you might have. Mind you, the deaths you’ll see and the related mental stresses are another matter, but what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

      Kirk

      Kirk wrote on August 23rd, 2013
  30. Josh….

    If you want bees on your hand, wait untill the weather is hot and dry, then find a water-source that is frequented by bees. Inevitably, some fall in , but if you put your hand under the water then lift it up underneath them so that they are resting on the flat of your palm, they will rest there without stinging. They will sit on your flat hand while they dry themselves and then fly away because they have things to do, not because they fear you.

    Peter.

    Peter W. wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  31. I taught Outward Bound for over 20 years and I took for granted weeks and months of hiking, sleeping, eating and living, under the stars, intimately with each season. My body, mind and spirit knew the subtle shift of the ecliptic and the movement of the constellations from summer to winter.

    Now, I can only escape for a week or two a year into the desert or mountains and if I’m lucky I’ll find a river trip and paddle through the Grand Canyon immersed both in her unforgiving currents and breathtaking red walls.

    It is so easy to let life slip by and forget to unplug for a day or two or three. Luckily nature doesn’t hold a grudge and we are always welcome to return.

    Kim
    (ER/Flight RN)

    Kim Allen wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  32. On one of the Alaskan trekk shows, one of the particpants says something along the lines of “If you have to ask why we choose to do this, you wont understand the answer.”

    I understand – I grew up in the country on a farm, spending most of my days on horseback roaming through Shades State Park which was on the other side of our back property line. My dad is a hunter, a living history re-enactor, a survivalist, a martial artist and a hand to hand combat and firearms safety instructor, so as I grew up outdoors was where we lived and the house was just where we slept sometimes.

    To me, the normal lives lived by normal people aren’t living. You don’t know what living is until your horse stumbles and you get swept out of the saddle into a flooded river, or you fall down a steep climb, or nearly step on a poisonous snake. They’re small near misses, but suddenly you know how fragile you are, how big the world is, what it’s like to be truly alive and you feel like you’ve earned it. I’m not an adrenaline junkie by any means, but those moments are what make you really appreciate the rest.

    Megan wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  33. To get the experience of living with a close connection to nature, read or reread The Little House on the Prairie books. I don’t know how I missed them as a kid, but I love them now.

    Susan B. wrote on August 22nd, 2013
    • I love those books! I recently re-read them, and experienced the simple life all over again. Living in a dug out home or a log cabin, eating simple food, the luxury of a single piece of candy, the ability to drink straight out of a cold stream. Oh what we have lost….

      Lora wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  34. I see deer on my weekly walk about half the time. Does that count?

    Lea wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  35. The way you started this article about the caribou as far as the eye can see, reminds me of the movie ‘Dances With Wolves’. In about the middle part of the movie after the main character(Kevin Costner) informs his new friends(a Lakota Indian Tribe) about a herd of Buffalo nearby, they break camp and head out after their trail. The movie does a pretty cool job of creating a scene were in the open plains of North Dakota hill after hill is covered with endless herds of buffalo as far as the eye can see. That scene gave me goose bumps the first time I saw it( I’ve watched this movie several times). So awesome just to think about really experiencing something like that!

    Michael wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  36. I think getting oneself outdoors and into nature is an experience that obviously cannot be duplicated or experienced by any other means. We recently had the worst flooding in more than a century. The damage to our city was heartbreaking. The devastation upstream in the foothills and mountains was absolutely stunning. The power of nature is frightening to say the least. But it’s not about danger, it’s really about living your life now not later.

    Rob wrote on August 22nd, 2013
  37. We are fortunate enough to have a house in a wooded area, near a large state park and forests, where we spend weekends and summers. I LOVE it here. I am so sad the summer is ending and that I’ll be surrounded by concrete and cubicle walls in a short week.

    Even indoors we have 360 degree views of trees, a waterfall and all of the critters that pass by. I have to admit that completely surrendering to the outdoors stresses me out. Somehow I can’t fully embrace being food for a swarm of mosquitos, deer ticks or interacting with the amazon-sized insects. Lyme disease – BTDT – no fun. Maybe if I had no choice and I grew up in closer contact with the environment this reality would be normal to me. For now, I really enjoy the screened deck :) I’m feeling like banking some dough and leaving the city altogether in a few years.

    mister worms wrote on August 23rd, 2013
  38. Perfect. I am truly a domesticated man. I’d say its time to change that some.

    Cory wrote on August 23rd, 2013
  39. I lived in a rural area in the country and have gone fishing in remote areas. I once heard an Appalachian woman who grew up in a remote community once say, nature is a mother, but she is a mean mother :)

    Too true!!

    George wrote on August 23rd, 2013
  40. I had a hard time figuring out what this post was getting at when I first read it, because honestly I’m okay with never coming face-to-face with a bear and don’t see how I need to face nature in that way to get some profound meaning out of my life.

    I’ve started hiking again recently and am picking away at the mountains in New England. I hiked up a “real mountain” today and finally realized just how profound of an influence one hike had on my life. A few years ago, a friend who had gotten seriously into hiking took a group of us to Katahdin, complete with the two-hour trek across the Knife Edge. Sure, I’d scaled the occasional small mountain with my family, but nothing prepared me for that. When we were done with that, half the group was sitting on rocks thanking any powers that be that we made it safely across, and I (being the only girl in the group) spent about 30 seconds crying from relief. I now realize I faced my mortality that day, and it left a profound mark in my mind. I can’t wait for the day I can repeat it. Literally. I can’t wait!

    Deanna wrote on September 1st, 2013

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