Modern civilization is a critical epoch, marking self-reliance’s abandonment. Detached from our primal roots, humanity has found it necessary to institute upon ourselves intangible systems that provide a sense of order to the boredom that too often accompanies daily life.

While our lives may seem structured, no particular structure for this system exists; the demand of trivial human interest requires antique innovations. Eternal entertainment is conceivable under this regime, but the means of achievement are in a permeant flux (we’ve created so many fascinating roles for ourselves), shifting effortlessly as air flowing across the sky.

At many times in my life, I have taken a breath of air, contemplating the spurious ways we work together to run out the clock. The banker wakes up at 7 a.m. to catch the train being run by the conductor. The train is powered by the efforts of coal miners, whose days begin like the conductors, with a freshly bought everything bagel. The wheat for the bagel was harvested by the farmer who happens to employ the conductor’s son.

Later that day, the farmer meets the banker to get a loan for his farm and signs a petition to end the mining of coal. From the collective an apparent order is born. Every life perpetuates another. Every action leaves a void that must be filled.

Scattered thoughts disrupt my actions preventing complete cerebral compliance with the forward march of man. When moments like these arise and my cognitive complex is thrown into the abyss of extraneous thought, I have always sought refuge in the woods. It’s easy to choose a direction, from there all that’s left is to focus on the simplicity of a stride. Swing the left leg forward, repeat with the right. Arms, swing with the opposite leg.

The first inhale of pure wild sends a gale towards the bottom of the abyss expunging my rancid thoughts and leaving nothing, but the idea of parading through the forest. Composed once again, I begin to take note of my surroundings.

A woodpecker begins to drill, as three squirrels run across my path. Dancing leaves fall to the earth, while specks of pollen float aimlessly upward to the horizon (as well as my sinuses). The crackling sound of water coursing over rock infinitely repeats itself until a trout jumps from the stream to catch an unsuspecting fly, interrupting the brooks rhythmic ballad.

Upon reaching the tallest point in the woods, I am presented with a dichotomic landscape; on my left lies the forest and, on my right, if I squint, the outline to the suburban jungle appears. Initially serving as the root to my confusion and cause to flee into forest, the hazy portrait of houses, highways, and strip malls, arouse a further appreciation for my new surroundings. The mechanic nature of human society has yet to impose its demeaning subservience on these hallow grounds. The creatures here exist for themselves, adhering to nothing, but the instinct that festers within them. Sporadically the river flows over the sedentary boulders that move for no one.

By chance, rainfall sends some saplings spurting towards space and others drifting downstream. A hawk will prey on the exposed mouse eating in the grass, the nearby snake will approach the mouse regardless of the hawk. Knowledge has granted us the ability to physically alter any landscape we see fit, yet the seemingly infinite order we live by will never tame the wild.

Existence in our construct is determined by the cyclical nature of humanities’ reliance on one another, a constant urge to service the needs of our comrades, hereby creating needs of our own. Linked together without origin, these needs and trivial pastimes confine us to temporary state of purpose, restricting personal growth.

My trek backward in time to a world ruled chaos begins to chip away at the layers of self-inflicted delusion, allowing me to obtain control of my thoughts. In nature where the air has drifted from the unexplored depths of the universe, I can reflect upon limitless possibilities; the barbative nature of societal inquisition is thwarted by a force not willing to respond. The route to free thought lies hidden in a constant haze, but a trek through the wilderness will lead the perplexed soul out of the purpose programming machine.