There is something spiritual about rushing water, untouched trees, wild nature.

Small towns have a lot to do with this, I think. (I define "small" as under 5,000 people.) Small towns, in fact, often connect us to nature. Many may not agree, but I think there really is something to this idea.

After visiting a small town in the California foothills recently, I realized once again what I have realized so many times upon visiting there: there is something special about small towns. There is a connection there, a peace there, that I don’t feel in suburbia or in any city.

Why is this? Just how do small towns give me that peace? I have a few ideas:

Community

Small towns have an inherent sense of community. This isn’t to say that people are any more community-oriented in small towns than in suburban or urban areas (though they may be). But there is a real sense of community in small towns. Businesses are owned by individuals (not always of course, depending on the town, but by and large they are, and they’re usually easier to find). And as you walk down the street, you can’t help but see all the businesses, one after another. Just as the business owners work hard to serve their customers, so the businesses themselves work together to provide all the goods and services a town may need. All the gears are meshing, so to speak. And being that the town is small, this meshing of gears is very obvious. When I see everything working together like that, I am, in the moment, very grateful. I am mindful.

(Mindfulness is something on which I have been trying to focus more. It’s basically living in the present, noticing, objectively and without judgement, your sensations and feelings. And it’s really quite delightful, even if it does take work.)

Of course in many small towns there are no meshing gears; in fact in many, the gears have come completely undone, and businesses are dying. As a result, the town is dying. This is terrible, but this doesn’t mean that town is any less valuable or special. It may contain the next reasons I list, and thus still connect me to the spiritual.

But in a town with businesses, you may see signs on windows informing the public of a town meeting occurring for some purpose, or announcing some event, a parade or festival for instance. You can wave and say hello to random people and, while they might stare at you blankly (if you’re not a local), they might just as likely wave and say hello back. Small towns really remind me much more of what I picture a neighborhood to be.

Cemeteries

Small towns, even if they don’t have thriving businesses, generally always have cemeteries. Even if they don’t have an actual town cemetery, there may be one at a church (or churches). I love cemeteries, because of their history and because of their peaceful ambience, their atmosphere. It’s one of quiet and respect. Cemeteries make me appreciate the people who have lived before me; their hard work; and the many resources I have now to help me live life. Cemeteries also remind me how long human life on this planet has been going on. I am just one in a giant pond of human beings, human beings both dead and alive. Cemeteries make me realize I could be dead in a second. They make me grateful for the present moment, for just being alive—even if I don’t know why I am alive.

Nature

But the most important reason small towns make me mindful and connect me to the spiritual is their inherent connection to nature. I know, small towns are towns; there are buildings, and neighborhoods, and cars and pollution and things you don’t find as much out in the actual country, where very few people are around.

However, small towns are unique in that they are surrounded by nature, and often infiltrated by it. I’m talking in particular about the older sections of towns—forget the strip malls, although even those are often bordered by fields that stretch on forever. The suburbs are generally solid concrete; grass and trees are added by developers (how sad is that?). Cities are only more so this way.

But small towns are different. For one, you can only walk so far in a small town before you leave the town; after all, the town is “small.” So the small town is surrounded on all sides by nature: by naturally-growing trees and naturally-growing grass, by wild animals, by rushing creeks. And there is something spiritual about rushing water, as I learned looking and most of all listening to the creek in the town I visited. The sound of water is not only soothing, but natural; water has been rushing over rocks and twigs for centuries, since the dawn of time. Water has been making life possible ever since life began. Water is intrinsic to life, and in many ways is life. And in my mind, water is just as important as anything else in the world—because it was created (as I believe) just as all other things, alive or not, were. Water gives life; water is sacred. Water, and all nature, connects me to the spiritual.

For another, nature is often a part of the small town. Roads dead-end into fields; houses have bigger yards; creeks run right through town, easier to notice in a small town because there’s less noise and often, the creek isn’t entirely overshadowed by a giant interstate or highway. Older houses may occasionally have large barns, harkening back to a time of less automation and more natural transportation.

Maybe my focus is more on nature than anything else. But it’s the country that will truly let you connect with nature in its natural state; and thus, small towns are the closest you can really get to being surrounded by people and civilization and yet also be surrounded by wild nature. There’s something special about small towns. Their atmospheres encourage you to slow down, to notice.

Maybe we need to stand in the middle of a small town and look around. Maybe we need to walk to the end of a road and stare out across a field. Maybe we need to stand in the middle of a bridge overlooking a rushing creek, and lose ourselves in the sound of the water.