"This I Believe": The "Active Stillness" of Nature, and of Natural Beauty, brings Catharsis

EDIT: I'm debating recording a version and posting it here. As I was writing it, I tried to pay special attention to the cadence in play while reading this, and I kind of want to get an idea of how to better plan for this while writing in the first place.

"It's the stillness."

My home, the Pacific Northwest, is famous for, among other things, the Space Needle, Pike Place Market, Portlandia, Microsoft, and some of the most liberal politics in the world. But look beyond the cities and towns, beyond the politics, and you’ll find perhaps the most naturally-beautiful area of the United States. By disconnecting from the “noise” of everyday life and taking advantage of these pristine and world-class resources—from Mount Rainer to the Pacific Ocean, from Lake Coeur d’Alene to the Columbia River Gorge, from the Cascades to the Selkirks—a more effective listening to oneself becomes possible.

I’ve been visiting Schweitzer in the northern Idaho mountains for nearly my entire life. Few activities can be more cathartic. After a long, stressful, and sleep-deprived week, my personal prescription might be a few knee-deep powder runs off of Pucci’s Chute or Lakeside. Or it could be a morning of high-speed, high-angle, high-adrenaline cruisers. I could take to the peaceful stillness of the trees, or hit up the sick rails, boxes, and jumps in the park. There’s something about outdoor recreation that just lends itself to a greater sense of freedom. A sense of unlimited possibilities, and not simply as toward the next run. Something changes inside of me; I feel more alive, more excited, more free. Somehow, more whole, more confident, more me. All of my worldly cares and anxieties slip away, and I allow myself the privilege of introspection and self-evaluation without giving myself the chance for criticism or doubt.

In nature, silence, particularly, tends to do that. With little else but the snow, the wind, the mountains, and the sprawling views below, I am freed from the limitations and expectations of everyday life. Free from the pain. Free from the noise. The noise. 

There are new noises here, and they are more unique and more beautiful than anything I hear elsewhere. The crunch of snow underneath my feet as I walk up South Ridge on a moonlit hike. The purring of the brisk westerly winds. The occasional owl, hooting in the distance. Myself. Myself. Amidst the stress of life, family, academics, and whatever else may be going on, it just feels impossible to even know how I am feeling at any given point. But here, in my personal wilderness, in this blissful silence, I can hear myself and hone in to my greatest struggles, joys, and longings. And in doing so, I become more fully me.

So when life gets rough, I take refuge in the mountains. When I’m feeling lost or confused, I seek out the stillness of nature. In recreating, in experiencing, in living the beauty of the “active stillness” of the environment, I believe that I can become not just a better person, but a better soul.