Sometimes when I find myself on the cusp of boredom (which happens rarely for me due to my wandering mind) I am struck with a desire to be outside. I feel a sudden yearning to remove myself from the comfortable place I'm most likely sitting and subject my entire sensory system to new input all at once.
Instantly. I want to experience a total input shift. I want to feel the biting cold on my cheeks, the cold, dripping rain on my head, or the blustery winter wind on my face. I want to feel alive. I want to walk alone and feel insignificant in the presence of nature. I want to see, to hear, to feel my surroundings. It's as if I wanted a change as sudden as closing my eyes from the comfort of a warm, fireplace-heated lodge, and opening them up to the salty mist pelting my face while I'm trying to keep my balance on a wind-tossed ship. It's as if I want to go from BEING to LIVING.
My wife would wonder why I wanted to go alone. She would think I am trying to escape--from her, from the house, from
us. No, I'm not feeling the sudden desire to go
from, I'm feeling the desire to go
to.
I want to smell the wind as it carries the perfume of pine to my nostrils from up high in the rustling trees. I want to hear the lonely sound of my footsteps as they shuffle along the empty road. I want to smell the unseen tendrils of wood smoke that waft out of chimneys and out over the land. I want to breathe the damp drizzle that brushes the air clean and turns my glasses to an opaque haze. I want to walk a path that's choked with fallen leaves and enjoy the earthy smell of their decay.
Then, I want to instantly transport myself back to the comforting warmth of the wood stove.
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