Wild Teaches

Last week, I had the opportunity to spend a few days in North Wales, where I explored its vast meadows, mountains, and rivers. While there, I had the pleasure of listening to birdsong and basking in the warm April sun, which embraced us so gently, marking the long-awaited arrival of spring. At the beginning of April, I found myself feeling quite down and under the weather, lacking creative spirit and the desire to venture outside of the comfort of my own home. These were strange days, not yet spring but not quite winter, where my heart longed for more yet held on strongly to moments of the past. However, as the days went by, I gradually began to awaken from the long winter's sleep. The familiar views slowly disappeared from my sight, both in the ever-changing phases of nature and in the change of scenery as I journeyed to the northwest, where tall mountains towered above my head, much larger than my worries.

Years ago, I used to adhere to strict travel itineraries, meticulously written out on paper, marking the designated time and place for each visit. I derived great pleasure from planning and cramming in as many destinations as possible within my limited travel days. Unfortunately, this often resulted in a frenzied pursuit of experiences, rather than a genuine immersion in them. While I felt a sense of accomplishment in checking off each location on my bucket list, I began to question whether I had truly experienced these places if I had not allowed myself the opportunity to fully engage with them using all of my senses. It is perhaps the most certain way to turn life into something stressful by imposing strict timelines upon oneself. We become desperate to accomplish certain goals by a certain age or hour, and in the best possible way. As a child, I held uncompromising views about life, believing that there was a predetermined path to follow, with specific milestones to achieve by the time I turned 18, 20, 25, and so on. These deadlines were absolute ultimatums for my life. Over time, however, my perspective shifted, and I came to realize that what I wanted at 16 was not necessarily what I wanted at present. Despite this realization, the deadlines continued to loom, causing my mind to race with fear of failure.

Over the course of several years, I have come to the realization that it is impractical to assume that one's desires and aspirations at the age of sixteen will remain relevant a dozen years later. It is natural for one's emotions, opinions, and ambitions to evolve, and it is acceptable to allow them to do so. The mountains, rivers, and ancient forests possess a wealth of knowledge and experience. Their vastness serves as a reminder of my insignificance in the grand scheme of things. My fears, which may seem insurmountable, are insignificant in comparison to the world around me. Suddenly, nothing else matters, not my problems or worries. I am merely a small creature, a grain of sand, a drop in the river, carried along by the current, striving to live my life to the best of my ability in this magnificent world. Nature operates on its own timeline, and it is only humans who struggle against time, attempting to prolong each moment. I look forward, drawn by the beauty that surrounds me, still curious and desiring more. I cannot articulate it in words, but only through my heart and eyes. In the end, these captured moments and written words will remain as they are, or perhaps even lose their significance. However, perhaps they will inspire you to venture out and spend time leisurely by a mountain.