The Typical Modern Life in the US Remains Disconnected From Nature

I spent the last month in the US visiting my sister and new niece and collecting documents. Applying for a long-term visa in Colombia is complicated and expensive, but I decided to settle at the beginning of the year.

For a brief moment, I pondered moving back to the US and living in the mountains, except it didn’t feel right. Something kept me from leaping. Then I went to visit my sister. Every time I go home, I romanticize being closer to my family.

My siblings and I are very close, but they all live far apart, so wherever I end up, it is still far.

Then I landed in Boston.

As soon as I land in the US, I feel my body go into contractions. Instead of the warm air, the frigid cold hit me.

The woman giving me a coffee does not smile, nor is the coffee hot. It’s as if no one has the time to be pleasant when they can be staring at their phones.

That is not the only thing; that was only the first interaction when I got off the plane. I know the Northeast is not particularly friendly, but it seems the disregard for humans has hit an all-time low, not only with other humans but also with the outside world and nature.

As I sat inside my sister’s house, I noticed I could not hear the wind, the rain, or the birds outside. This has nothing to do with my sister, but it is standard in the US.

The houses are like boxes that protect us from interacting with the outside world. The indoor-outdoor living that I am accustomed to does not exist. I sat in front of the TV most days, unmotivated and sluggish.

I did not write, only a bit for myself, yet I have nothing to share. My allergies also almost killed me every time I went outside.

I set up my sister’s garden beds and planted for her, but I would come back inside red-eyed and sneezy from the pollen—almost as if my body was mentally and physically rejecting my being there.

Yet the divide between the outside and the inside bothered me. I went from the house to the car to the next location. We did go on walks near my sister’s house, but it was rare because it rained so much while I was there.

I suppose that could be one reason I was not outside so much, but the inability to hear the outside bothered me more.

I thought about this last night as the rain sang on my tin roof, and I lay in bed listening to the thunderstorm. Yes, here, we do not need to insulate ourselves from the outside elements, as the rain is warm, and the weather is perfect year-round.

Yet I can’t help but wonder if that is the plan.

To create a divide between the outside and the inside, promote laziness, and divide us from nature. I believe we are all one part of nature. If we are wrapped in cotton wool and protected, how will we learn to survive without it?

It does not sit right with me that there is such a disconnect with most people in the States. Even when we drove around, I saw no one outside; even when it is cooler here, there are always people outside.

Today, it has been raining off and on, and the breeze is cool. Yet the dirt under my fingernails will tell you that between the rains, I was in the garden, mulching the fruit trees, playing in the compost, and taking care of the plants I planted before I left.

As I write, I sit on the porch of my new house. A man is also working in the field across from me, and people are walking up and down the road.

Do we always need such comfort in our lives, or is having a little less comfort good for the soul?

It could also be that this is my home, and when I am here, I feel at peace, which could affect my negative feelings when I am away.