Prairie Wisdom

We were on vacation, but not the vacation most would dream of. The Mr. and I were heading to Nebraska. The state with the slogan, "Nebraska. Honestly, it's not for everyone." I was in the middle of running a half marathon in half the states and had selected Nebraska as our next bet. As a child, I had lived in the small town of Seward and thought I'd return, hoping to put those fond memories back in my pocket. I had not trained much for this run. The weeks prior had hit me like losing a loved one, and I didn't have the strength to put on running shoes, much less get out the door.

The entry fee had been paid, the flight booked, the hotels reserved. We'd go, and I would run/walk the 13.1 miles, so depressed I failed to notice the cheers and party atmosphere surrounding a marathon. I tugged myself across the finish line, planning to return to the hopelessness I had been wallowing in.

After the marathon, we planned to participate in the Taste in the Tallgrass fundraiser at the Spring Creek Prairie Audobon Center. What else does one do in Nebraska? It was my birthday, and this was my choice for our evening; an elegant dinner served by University of Nebraska students, music by The Lightning Bugs, on the tallgrass prairie.

I was astonished when we walked through the visitor center's rear doors. I had not seen a prairie as it had been before the plows, and what I saw on this September day rocked my world. I felt an immediate and all-consuming connection to this land.

I asked the Mr. to return to see the entire property the following day. As soon as the center opened, we set foot on the trails listening, observing, and reflecting on our surroundings. I couldn't stop raving about each wildflower, the height of the grasses, the 235 species of birds, and the enormous sky. The prairie's pallet of flowers mixed with the tall grasses must have inspired Kodak to call on Kodachrome's clarity and spawned many artists to the ultimate challenge―capturing perfection.

Seeing the prairie as it should be, felt like hearing beautiful music for the first time. The magic was everywhere, butterflies, tiny frogs, bees, dragonflies, and birds with calls I had not heard before. There was a rapid humming as if this land were desperately busy. Untouched and pure, as it had always been, mixed with large boulders and grasses, the big bluestem, switchgrass, little bluestem, and Indian grasses fused with hundreds of unique and well-known varieties of wildflowers.

This sudden passion placed me squarely on the wrong side of rational preferences, like someone who prefers Miracle Whip as a sandwich spread. It was beautiful because I perceived it as so. I needed to witness this beauty as it eased the suffering at my recent shift in job security.

Beyond the natural grasses and flowers, the land changed. I had taken a seat at earth's table, blending into the soil. I belonged here, wanting to be folded into the ground, yearning to be larger than I was.

The grasses and stems had turned a dusty brown while the flowers were drying to their muted fall colors, with roots as deep as the people who make this land their home. The grasses were brittle as the heat of summer sucked out moisture. The trees produced a sweet, musty smell while their leaves rustled, preparing for another cycle of life. The cottonwoods began to disrobe under a gentle breeze that could not be called wind. The prairie was breathing, taking deep breaths in preparation for a long winter's rest while whispering, "Stay strong."

Closing my eyes allowed me to hear this beauty around us that was equally as extraordinary in sound as sight. When I opened them, everything had been magnified. Wildly wishing I were an artist―an artist capable enough to capture the sounds as well as the sights. Few are aware that this tiny pearl of absolute perfection sits in the middle of acres and acres of cultivated land, and fewer still would care.

I was transformed as if I had slipped out of an evening gown and into well-worn sweats. How does one tell their spouse that they will be backing out of life as it had been? Carefully, gently and honestly. It took a few days to understand which direction I would go, but I knew this misogynistic ambush that I was facing was not worth the fight. I could not manage one more minute of corporate fanaticism.

I was the only female in a position held by 212 men. Proud to be a leader for other women and with three daughters who I hoped would recognize that anything was possible. Was this sudden change a female weakness or a sudden revelation that I was not the person I was pretending to be?

After a few more days of pondering and plotting, I told the Mr. that I would leave my job after our daughter's wedding and return to school. I explained that I did not care if we lived in a shack in the middle of nowhere. I would be taking a different path to where I was unsure, but it must include reflection, creativity, walking, and silence. I am here now, and the prairie showed me the way.