The Invisibility of Nature

My skis glide uphill across the icy, granular snow. Each sliding footfall accompanied by a sound almost like a toy laser gun. Slowly, my mind is schussed into silence as I descend the hill into darkness. Lights blare in the distance, floating orbs in the night sky that belie the presence of grinding, mechanical ski lifts. Bundled forms slide past spouting fragments of conversation, laughter. Meanwhile, warm breath sibilates between my teeth to form a cloud before it’s gobbled up by the greedy cold.

For an indeterminable minute, hush.

A slackening of the thoughts that ricochet around the echoing gymnasium that is my mind and I am lost in the effortful movement of my body.

This is why I do it. Walk, or ski, or run alone in the wild places that are the very furthest away from civilization that my body can carry me.

For the unconscious moments of mental stillness that I am afforded when my entire being is consumed in a driving blitz of burning movement. Moments that I can only recognize once something has pulled me from deep below the water and I am deposited, spluttering against the shores of cognizant thought. Sometimes, I can find these moments in efforts of muscles screaming so loud that it drowns out my entire interior world. Others, like tonight, when the repetition of movement sneaks into my mind and lulls it to quiet. Like falling asleep on a rolling tide.

There is a distinct kind of pleasure I’ve found in these moments of complete abandon. One which is so compelling that I am coming to build an entire life around it. I push my body deep into the wilderness for the stillness it bestows on my recalcitrant mind, yes. Undeniably. But also, for the time spent unwatched by a single one of my fellows on this billions-populated speck of careening space rock. The opportunity to shed the wet blanket of gaze that I carry with me daily. Though some of the days are easier than others. I have found that no matter how comfortable that wet blanket becomes it’s presence it’s still noticeable. I am still wearing the wet blanket.

But not out here among the darkness and the trees. Here I am joyously invisible, able to take whichever form I choose.