Bye Bye Privet

This week, we volunteered as a class at the Fort Worth Nature Center. I was excited to share this experience with my classmates because I had never visited this part of Fort Worth before. On the drive there, it was satisfying to see the landscape outside of the car slowly begin to change. We noticed how everything became greener as we traveled further and further away from TCU’s campus. We talked about what it would be like to live out here. It seemed so peaceful to be secluded from the traffic and amount of people closer to the city. 

Fort Worth Nature Center & Refuge

Before we left for the nature center, I quickly looked through the website and read that one of its purposes was to give us a glimpse into what Fort Worth looked like before settlement. I immediately thought about our readings from Meriwether Lewis and Luther Standing Bear. While Lewis’ writings depict the beautiful natural scenery of the world he encountered, he lacks a certain respect for the land, as highlighted by the ways in which he seems to kill animals just because he can. Instead of taking from the land what he needs, he takes whatever he wants. For instance, he kills a bear not for its meat but for its skin. While Lewis commodifies the land by exploiting its natural resources, Luther Standing Bear takes a more protective stance. He describes his respect for nature and all of its creatures, describing the intricate connection between all living things. He explains how he only took from the land what was absolutely necessary for his own survival. While I think that Luther Standing Bear would appreciate the efforts of the Fort Worth Nature Center, I think that Lewis would not be as understanding. 

After learning about the history of the center and glancing over a map of its layout, we set out down the road a few minutes to our destination – a patch of wooded area that had become overrun with Privet, an invasive species of plant that spreads rapidly due to its berry consumption by birds. We spent the next two hours removing this plant, creating piles to signify our progress. I truly enjoyed this time. It was nice to not only be outside after sitting in a classroom all day, but it was also fun to spend time with my classmates, sometimes talking about random things while other times working side by side in comfortable silence. Learning about Privet made me think about the ways in which ecosystems are so intricately connected. As discussed in our Conservation Photography Handbook, even the smallest of creatures are necessary for life. Emily and I found a type of caterpillar crawling on a branch of Privet we had just removed. Although we relocated this little guy to a nearby tree, I couldn’t help but feel bad for displacing him from his home. Even though this center is making positive efforts to preserve the natural land, I think it is impossible to truly leave no trace. However, we can still strive for perfection by being cognizant of the world around us, including the smallest creatures, and fostering a respect and appreciation for nature.

My Extended Experience

During the drive to Benbrook Lake, we started talking about all the things we have yet to do in Fort Worth. My go-to excuse for not checking these things off of my bucket list is always that I don’t have time. The truth is that I don’t make the time. I find that I am so busy focusing on what needs to be done tomorrow that I never fully appreciate the present day. Wordsworth claims that we are “out of tune with nature,” and I would have to agree. I feel that as we get older, we lose touch with not only the natural world but also the present moment. When we are younger, we are not afraid to go outside and play in the mud. We don’t hesitate to jump in a puddle or climb a tree. Why is that? I think that when we are children, we don’t think about the consequences of our actions. While this can obviously lead to some negative outcomes, it also results in positive ones. When we are little, we don’t think about how uncomfortable it is going to be to walk home in our wet clothes after splashing in that puddle or how much it is going to hurt if we accidentally fall from the tree. Instead, we just do, and in doing, we truly live. I think it is unfair to refer to this type of behavior as “childish” just because it is something that we completely lose sight of as adults. As our worlds become filled with endless responsibilities, we not only lose this innocent connection with nature but also our conception of it as something mystical and magical. My childhood was filled with playing outside. My brothers and I would entertain ourselves for hours on end making up storylines and pretending to have magical powers. Being in nature not only gives us the opportunity to completely live in the moment, but it also fosters creativity – I think this can only happen when we are not burdened with the intrusive thoughts of what needs to be done. 

Benbrook Lake, Fort Worth, TX

After we set our canoes out into the water and got the hang of paddling, I noticed how we were the only ones in the lake. I couldn’t believe that there weren’t more people out here. It was so beautiful and peaceful. I guess they, too, said there was not enough time in their day to come out here. They, too, were too busy focusing on tomorrow. We slowly made our way across the lake and turned towards the west to watch the sunset. Although the trees blocked the view of the sun dipping under the horizon, the contrast of the oranges and yellows against the darkness of the water was truly stunning. I felt small. When I looked across the water, the lake seemed much bigger, almost like we were in the middle of the ocean, except the water was as still as glass.

As the light from the sun began to disappear, the stars slowly started to reveal themselves in the sky, peaking into view one by one. I have never seen a shooting star, and I have always been envious of those who have (which seems to be every other person in the world). Looking up at the stars, I was amazed at the ways in which they differed in size and brightness. Again, I began to feel small. While looking into the distance at Jupiter, I realized that I have never seen a shooting star because I have never taken the time to look for one.

As we loaded the canoes back into the truck, I noticed that during the past few hours I did not once think about what I had to do tomorrow. I did not feel guilty for spending this time for myself. Normally, I would avoid these types of excursions because “I don’t have time,” which I now realize is not a real excuse for anything. I think that spending time outside needs to be prioritized just as highly as some of the other responsibilities in our lives. If we can learn to reclaim our childish ways, we might just be able to be more present in our everyday lives. 

In Wordsworth’s “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud,” we see the connection that nature bridges between the mundane and the extraordinary. Even when we are doing something as uninspiring as sitting on the couch, we can be brought to a more magical place simply through the power of imagination. Spending time in nature allows us to create these comforting memories that can be accessed at any time, especially during times when the world seems too overwhelming. This paddling excursion made me feel like a kid again. I wasn’t worried about getting a little wet or getting a few mosquito bites. I felt fully engaged in the present moment, and I hope to take this feeling with me in my everyday life because I do not want to look back on these points in time wishing I had appreciated them more in the moment. You truly don’t know a good thing until it is gone, so don’t let it go.

Seeing the Good in the Bad

    On Friday, September 9th, I woke up early and went for a run with my roommate. We drove to the Trinity River in silence, a quiet sadness filling the car. A week prior, Eliza Fletcher, a mom from Memphis, Tennessee, was taken during the early hours of the morning while running. This morning, my heart was heavy with my fellow Memphians, who were banding together to complete Liza’s run. We ran for a few miles alongside the river, and when we turned around we stopped to watch the sunrise. Although it was not one of the most beautiful sunrises I had ever seen, I felt comfort in knowing that even when bad things happen, the sun is still going to rise every morning. I think that nature is so calming because it is consistent. While some may argue that nature is destructive, as in the case of wildfires or tornados, the unpredictable chaos of the natural world is what makes it so predictable. Nature brings comfort to me because it allows me to put my own concerns in perspective and see the bigger picture.

7:26 AM

7:33 AM

According to Edward Abbey, human life is “significant and unique and supreme beyond all the limits of reason and nature.” Abbey discusses his time spent alone in the desert, describing the discomforts and hardships of surviving in a world so distant from many of the conveniences we take for granted. I think that Abbey is so appreciative of life because he lives in a world where it can easily be taken away. I believe that nature helps us see the goodness in a world that appears to be broken beyond repair. It is difficult to see the good when we are surrounded by so many bad things. The news is flooded with negativity, and we see devastation daily. Abbey describes humanity as believing in the significance of our lives. Although we are constantly bombarded with these bad things, the bad only makes life more meaningful and precious. 

Fortunately, we do not have to face these hardships alone. We have nature. Emily Dickinson describes nature as not only a source of divine comfort but also a place of religious experience. I think people go to Church and go out into nature for similar reasons – to find meaning. If we strive to fulfill our humanity, and humanity is believing in the significance of our lives, then the comfort provided by nature can help situate us within the world. I think that there are two opposing ways we can view ourselves within this context. On one hand, we can see ourselves as insignificant in the vast world. What is the point of a single life when viewing it from the distance of the milky way? On the other hand, we can acknowledge that each life is a miracle. What are the chances of you being here at this exact moment in space and time? One in a million? One in a billion? I think nature helps us see this perspective. When we go out into the natural world, we are able to place our concerns and discomforts in the context of a bigger picture, but this bigger picture also allows us to view the significance of our own lives.

Leave No Trace

Leave No Trace. I thought I had a thorough understanding of this concept as I sat in a hotel lobby in Tanzania. The following day, we would begin our ascent of Mt. Kilimanjaro – 5 days up and 2 days down. To be honest, I did not know much about climbing. I had experience hiking, but I had never journeyed this high – almost 19,000 feet. I was traveling with a group of 11 other high school students who were in a similar boat as I was. We were told that as long as we were in good enough shape to walk for hours at a time, we would be okay. The path we were taking was not technically challenging – we just had to walk “pole, pole” which translates to “slowly, slowly.”

Mt. Kilimanjaro (2017)

The first day on the trail, we stopped to eat a snack after walking for a few hours. Once I had eaten my apple down to the core, I asked if it was okay to throw it into the woods. This is what I would have done with an apple core at home. I had always figured that it made a good snack for animals that came upon it. I was quickly told that leaving the core was littering. Leave no trace. This moment made me realize the true significance of this statement. To leave no trace means to leave an environment as if you were never there. The guides explained to us that it is okay to eat the entire apple core, so we did.

I was extremely blessed to have had this opportunity, especially during a time of year when the mountain was not super crowded. On the morning we summited the peak, we saw only two other groups. Although we woke up at 3 a.m. in the pitch black and walked “pole, pole” for hours before we saw the sun, I was amazed to see snow in the distance. I never in a million years thought I would see snow in Africa. Our guides explained to us that the snow had been disappearing over the years due to global warming and told us that if our future children ever made it to the top, they would not see any snow.

Uhuru Peak, Mt. Kilimanjaro (2017)

Leave no trace. Although we can make personal changes to limit the negative effects of human endeavors on the environment, it is impossible to reverse the global changes that have forever transformed nature. As Joni Mitchell sings in “Big Yellow Taxi,” “you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.” It is not until a species is on the verge of extinction that we decide to take the drastic measures needed to preserve natural habitats. It is not until we are threatened with food shortages that we begin to appreciate the value of the land. It is not until we are plagued by natural disasters that we finally realize the power of nature. In “Mercy Mercy Me,” Gaye pleads, “How much more abuse from man can she stand?”. We take and take from nature, giving back the bare minimum just so we can continue to take more.

I like this picture because it shows how both accidental and purposeful human actions impact the environment. While our eyes might initially be drawn to the plastic caught in the foliage, I think it is also worthwhile to note that the overpass is now a permanent, man-made addition to the Trinity River.

The Art of Walking

I have always described myself as someone who loves to be outside. I grew up riding horses, and I have always loved animals. I remember spending most of my childhood at the farm, riding my horses and playing in the woods and pond. In addition to horseback riding throughout high school, I also ran cross country and track. Whenever I was not at school, I was outside. I have seen many early morning sunrises – I remember driving to summer practices in the dark and leaving with wet shoes and sticky legs from running in the early morning dew. Because I have spent so much time outside, I have come to realize that it is difficult to truly appreciate nature when you are in an active state. While I remember the sun breaking through the darkness during these early mornings, I did not take the time to watch it rise because I was too busy looking at the ground in front of me, careful not to trip over a root or rock while running with my teammates.

Sadly, it has taken me a long time to realize the benefits of simply being outside. I continue to run, but when I do, I find that I am either completely zoned out or singing along to my music in my head. I have the mile markers on the trinity memorized, only looking up when I know that I am getting close to mile one, then two, then three, and so on. Through steady movement and constant distractions, I have lost an appreciation for simply being outside. I guess it is more accurate to say that I am someone who likes doing things outside, not someone who loves to be outside. 

The Trinity River

Today, I decided to go for a walk on the trinity, as opposed to my usual run. I didn’t speed walk as quickly as I could to reach my turn-around spot. I didn’t stare at the ground as my shoes stepped one in front of the other. Instead, I slowed down and looked at the world around me. I sat on a bench and spent time looking at the river. When I reached the straight gravel path, although I knew that reaching the end of it would mean I had walked exactly one mile, I turned my head in a direction I normally do not – to the left instead of focusing straight ahead. I saw a path that cuts across the river and decided to go down it and explore. The path was made up of stepping-stone rocks. While the river was completely still on one side, the water trickled through the rocks flowing downward on the other.

The infamous gravel path leading to the first mile marker

Stepping-stone path 

Trickling water

While I have always considered running to be a meditative activity because it leaves me with a clear mind, I found that walking slowly in silence is even more beneficial, though more challenging. Although I do not think I have fully mastered Thoreau’s “art of Walking,” this experience has taught me to be more appreciative of the journey, rather than rushing to the destination. I like to believe that everyone is right where they need to be. If this is true, then everything we see outside, from a leaf on the ground to a squirrel climbing a tree, is also right where it needs to be. Similar to how Whitman describes finding the extraordinary in the mundane, I also believe that life is a miracle, and I hope to appreciate more of its natural beauty by taking the time to slow down and admire what’s around me.