Since turning 30 this year, I’ve felt an increasing desire to live a simpler life. I’ve cut my volunteer commitments in half and am focusing on my local area and my nature journals. The 16 places of my journaling journey have now been reduced to eight for this year, following a rather busy spring.
I’m focusing on one central goal this year: learning the long history of the outside world around me. We’ve never been so accustomed to a degraded environment. Because of our lack of connection to nature, we no longer know what’s normal. We’re losing the stories of our ancestors.
I need to make time for reading. Now, reading Robert MacFarlane, a renowned author who has written extensively on ecological memory (The Wild Places, and much later Is a River Alive, are my current reads), I realized that the transmission of information depends on an emotional connection to living things.
But how do we connect with the living world when we’re stuck indoors? Too often, our definition of nature is too narrow and excludes our own nature.
Our inner child is definitely part of nature.
I’ve always wanted a reading nook, a corner where I can discover new information without even thinking about what’s around me.
Somewhat irrationally, I’ve cleared out a space in the storage closet to read all the big reference books I’ve accumulated. There, I can leave those massive, half-read books without having to carry them everywhere and leave them on tables. The sound from the projector on the walls easily fills the space, making it feel like we’re in another world. All of this within the confines of my apartment.
What does all this have to do with transmission?
It’s just that I’ve always loved returning to my old pastimes. As a child, I loved exploring the forest, but also books. But when it’s dark and all you have are books, it’s better to satisfy what you really want. And often, that means doing what you would have done at age seven.
That way, we can step back into our childhood shoes, at an age when our brains were sponges (they still are, by the way!). And for the brain to be ready to learn, rest and indulgence are essential.
I’m writing these lines from this space in my closet, free from all judgment. I’ve been here for over an hour and I’m enjoying it. That’s all I wanted at this time in my life, and that’s all that matters.
After resting, why not let your curiosity run wild?
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If it were a nice day outside and you were seven years old, what would you go outside to do?
- Adjust your thinking and come up with a similar activity for your current age!
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If you had one regret—something you wish you had done when you were seven but didn’t do enough of—what would it be?
- Do it!
I hope this helps to encourages you to bring a little whimsy into your life, a life which I hope isn’t too monotonous. We don’t need to publish everything we create and learn. Our brain will then be ready to absorb and learn whatever interests us—something essential in this day and age to keep ourselves up with the times.