Of Nature and Progress
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Politics and Activism

Of Nature and Progress

Because what does progress even mean anymore?

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Of Nature and Progress
Adulfa Diaz

The other day in class, we were instructed to take a nature walk without our phones and try to find the stillness within ourselves. When it comes appreciating to the perfect stillness of nature, we are at fault when it feels useless. Walking within the woods did little to calm my mind, something that I feel is almost, if not entirely, my fault. When I was younger, I had a way of connecting personally with nature. I walked endlessly on my own, despite my prissy personality, and often times I would get lost. But I’d never notice that I was until my mother sent out search parties to find me.

Today, I am riddled with the impurities of the outside world. I wanted so badly to reconnect with nature that I tried entirely too hard. I did not let my mind wander with my body. I felt as though I was anchored to the same worries I had been when I was inside, and it should not be that way. I worry that my soul has become a little more cynical than it had been before. I had to ask myself questions throughout the walk just so that I felt the slightest bit productive. It seems my whole life revolves around that word now. I fear that I’ve lost that childlike wonder that I was so proud of before. I tried so hard to regulate others during this walk, not out of desire to command, but out of desire to see if they could connect with what I used to as a child. I wanted to know what others could take away from the activity so that I might find something recognizable within their own thoughts, but when I was met with sheer silence, I realized how terrifying it is that I was trying to find myself in others. Those memories and abilities should lie inside of me. But for some reason I can’t tap into it.

Despite being surrounded by what was meant to be serenity and luscious imagery, the image that kept replaying in my head was not of green or falling leaves. It was of a picture that I stumble upon quite frequently in my own home- one of me as a child, taking my first steps, pink outfit dirtied up by red clay that burned under the blazing Mexican sun. It was one of a moment in time in which I had no memories, just a world to discover. Now, I wish I could be the same again. Instead of observing trees and plants and nature, I took to observing others. Instead of thinking about something new that I experienced, I thought about what had stayed the same in the short term. I thought about my anxiety, and how despite the lovely activity I had been through, it was still there. I thought about the homework that I needed to get done and the college applications that I would need to fill out, and I thought about how it was all still going to be waiting for me when I got back.

The child in that picture didn’t have to worry about any of that. She was ready to take her own walks and make her own scars and tell her own stories about her own journey. In a sense, I feel like I’ve failed her. She was just learning to walk, and there I was, a professional walker, so to speak, and yet I still had no idea where I was going.

As I start thinking about the activity today, my mind circles back to one word. Progress. My entire life has recently, yet not so recently, revolved around productivity, more so lately. Today I tried to control too much, because that’s been my default setting so far. While my attempt to control had merit and the responses I received were unnecessary, I did get something out of all this. Today on that walk, I did absolutely nothing but look, walk, and breathe. Even so, I started to remember who I was before all of this madness sunk in. I made a realization that I’m trying entirely too hard to grow up and attempting to lull myself into a sense of full security by exercising complete control. In doing so, I found a new definition of the word progress.

It used to mean something quantifiable. Something I could measure with a word count or a clock or in dollar bills. But when I was younger, progress simply meant putting one foot in front of the other and managing to breathe while doing it. As I got older, I went into the real world believing that the definition would only get more complicated. However, I am confident enough to admit that I was wrong. Somehow, despite not doing very much today that you could calculate, I moved forward. I have a new perspective toward the manner in which I approach the word productivity. Progress is progress, even if all I did today was breathe. In this moment, I am still moving forward. Despite my prior beliefs, I have not stopped. Not since I took those very first steps, and certainly not now when I look back upon them.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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