The Place Where Nature Soothes And Sings
Sunrise at the scrub.
Prickly rays drown
the clouds in murky pink.
The bated silence- a feather against skin,
stones tied to limbs.
Where are the flighted creatures?
The humming of the freedom beasts?
The crisp scent of pine needles
hangs
suspended in soupy air.
I try to make friends
With the horseflies.
But they are all bite,
No bark.
I try to understand
the prehistoric body
Of a tight shelled armadillo.
Frozen,
I watch time travel
on its skin
as it continues
its shuffling pursuit.
The Place Where My Heart Is Home
The Place Where I Believe
The sport of sailing has taught me to believe in the wind
The Place Where My Home Is
This is my house. It is the first place I have ever felt like I am really living on my own, and I have already made many memories here and expect to have many more, so it is a meaningful place to me.
The Place Where... my community is
The Place Where Time Stops
I struggle to put this place into words, so I will do so sparingly.
This place was a place that had history. It had purpose and life and sometimes I felt as though I could run away here and be content. I could disappear and melt into the rich soil of the earth.
Upstate New York, Pine Planes to be exact. A town in the middle of nothing but trees and nature and all that life has to offer. No big city, no busy streets. I didn’t realize how much I missed this place until now.
As a child, my family would make the long trek from Texas to New York to spend time with family. My favorite place to visit was my grandma's house. The place of escape. The place where any wandering child would wish to discover. The weather never failed to satisfy my desire to feel the morning dew on my skin. With its touch so light only few would notice. And through those few summer days, the sun became my best friend.
But when night rolled around, I felt as though I could float through the air like the fireflies I would catch with my grandpa.
I was young and lost and confused but this was the place where none of that mattered. This place was where I could talk to the earth.
The moons light covering me like a blanket as I lay in the road, time still, falling in love with the Milkyway and all beyond.
The Place Where Nothing can Bother Me
The Place Where Nothing can Bother Me
My place is my car. In my car, I can be alone with myself. Not alone with my phone, not alone on my computer, not alone but thinking about all the things I should or could be doing, but alone with myself. I'm not anywhere being distracted by anything; I am in between. A quick moment of thoughtfulness can be had here in the midst of a busy day, or I can go on a long drive to sort my thoughts. I can think about what I want or need to think about and the only thing I'm legally allowed to be distracted by is the road. My ideal moment is in my car, windows down, music blaring, pink scarf around the mirror dancing in the wind. Then, I'm alone with myself in the best way.
The Place Where I Experience the Flow State
After quarantine I was eager to fill my days learning something completely new, so over the summer I started horseback riding. On the very first day, I experienced the flow state, a state of complete focus in an activity. Each time I was there, I was fully immersed in caring for my horse and learning how to ride that I would find myself calm and clear headed. Throughout my time there, I cultivated a foundation of relationships with other riders and among the horses. The barn will always be a safe place for me to return to if I ever need to ground myself and be reminded of the importance of exploring outside what I already know.
The flow state is the mental state in which a person performing some activity is fully immersed in a feeling of energized focus, full involvement, and enjoyment in the process of the activity. Whenever I am at the barn horseback riding, I am so taken by how clear minded I become when in this state.
The Place Where I Relax
This is a rough imagining of my room. After a long day of school or work I always look forward to turning the lights off and basking in the warm glow of my ps4 and sound bar lights. I really tried to capture the hue that both the lights and tv screen create in a dark room.
The Place Where the Sky Meets the Earth
And there I was, standing under the heavy morning dew; the hot desert sun already scorching my forearms. My teammates and I knew it was risky to hike amidst the hot Israel summers, but we were on a mission. We had been assigned with a rather treacherous task: hike to and over Mount Meron, the tallest mound in the Upper Galilee [Israel] soaring at 3,963 feet above sea level.
It was the last day of a week-long hike; T-minus 9 hours before extraction. We were exhausted and past our breaking point, but we knew that in order to complete the mission we had to hike to the extraction point. Ahead of us: a 50-mile hike. With heavy feet and a backpack that weighted half of my own body weight, we began our journey. To hike through sand dunes and firethorn was no easy task. Far less easy was the vertical path up to the top of Mt. Meron.
We ran through the first few miles with ease, but climbing over a boulder just to find another one double its size behind it began to take a toll on me. My lower legs felt numb and my lungs began to collapse. I remember repeatedly thinking, “I want to see where the sky meets the Earth,” as it was the only thing that kept me going…well, that and an absurd amount of adrenaline pumping through my veins.
With my two feet suddenly level on flat ground, I looked around me. My tired eyes scanned the vicinity, and what I found was astonishing. I found nothing. Nothing; there was nowhere else to go but down. I soon realized we made it to the top. I made it to the top. The 50-pound backpack grinding down on my shoulders was suddenly weightless…as was I.
I looked far into the horizon as if searching for the things left unanswered. I saw the cloudless sky harboring a bright sun seamlessly blending with the land below. I looked down at my own two feet, blistered and battered; covered in sand. And there, in that moment, existed a single truth: hiking sucks, but the feeling of accomplishment that floods the body is elating. I understood that the very soil underneath my shoes, was the only thing holding me up. It’s a beautiful paradox if you think about it… a mountain so tall it tickles the sun, yet so grounding, warm, and comforting. Recovering from a brief euphoric moment, I gathered my thoughts and began the descent.
I have not been back in Israel since, but this is a place and moment in time I cherish and consider to be part of my core essence. It is a feeling so powerful even the finest of words fall short; a feeling nobody can take away from me.
During a 50 mile hike in the Israel desert, I remember repeatedly thinking, “I want to see where the sky meets the Earth,” as it was the only thing that kept me going…well, that and an absurd amount of adrenaline pumping through my veins. It was my motivation to keep going, one foot in front of the other.
The Place Where I'm at Ease
The place that I wrote about is the place where I feel the most free from tension and anxiety; at ease.
The Place Where I'm Myself
This small beach town in Massachusetts is now an 11 year-long tradition for my family. Once a year, my family and I visit and spend time in this beautiful place. To me, this represents family, love, and peace. Every year I look forward to traveling to the place where I can think clearly and stop for a bit to enjoy the world we have.
The Place Where I Belong
In the cool fresh February morning air, the sun rises over the surrounding mountains of Aspen, Colorado. As I prepare for a daylong of competing on Snowmass Mountain in a variety of skiing competitions, I take a breath thinking about my goal to hopefully achieve a spot in Junior Olympics. I sit back and admire the beautiful morning haze. There is no need to move, just sitting back and admiring is a trip in itself.
As it is early morning, before the mountain officially opens to the public, the world is quiet. Lights are just starting to turn on in the village, no traffic noises, no skiers, and no distractions.
Out of all the early morning sunrises I have experienced this one connected to me the most. Being in my home state and admiring the beauty is all I could ask for. A quiet minute for meditation before a chaotic day filled with stressful runs.
With my mind empty and sitting alone for a few minutes, it truly felt like a couple hours of relaxation. I credit my success from that day to that morning for connecting me to my surroundings and reminding myself why I love what I do.
As Ferris Bueller once said, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” In this moment I understood the importance of the quote.
Sitting and watching that sunrise will always be a memory I cherish and and a place I will always think about. I’ll never be able to achieve that feeling again, but that is okay, that’s what makes it so special.
I named this story "The Place Where I Belong" because it is one of the most important places to me and with skiing being one of the greatest influences in my life, I would make no sense but to call it that.
The Place Where I Am Free
The alpine zone of the mountains is my favorite place to be. It's means you're close to breaching the tree line. It means you've come a long way from the bottom. It's a zone where the natural world is not longer overrun by the man-made world. It's a place where the bright green moss contrasts with the dark brown trunks. It's a place where my soul feels free from the world and free to be exactly who I am. It's a place that brings me tranquility and pure joy.
The place where I returned to polish my edges.
The Place Where I Return to Polish My Edges. The Place Where I Return to Polish My Edges is Escalante. The harsh, mostly empty, intimidating environment found in Southern Utah is a place I have nostalgia and continued curiosity for. The terracotta sand is familiar, but remains brutally indifferent to my reappearing appearance. The desert doesn’t offer comfort like a forest or field of wildflowers. My deepest gratitude for the high desert is that She listens. I have roved through miraculous fairytale forests that listen, but they also harbor secrets. Forests are awe-inspiring because of the deep knowledge embedded in the moss beds and root systems. They are like a layered oil painting, stratified with historical revelation. The desert’s barren-ness serves as a near blank canvas to say, do, and move within. Let Her have it, share a burden or an itching idea, and She too will let it go. She takes slow breaths and never breaks eye contact. She is stern and sound. The desert has patience of another grain. Severity brings clarity… or so I tell myself when I am with Her.
The place where summer turns to fall.
Where is my place?
When the summer turns to Fall
I start looking for it.
A place to sit quietly
a place to relax
and let my mind wander
I need a place where words and ideas drift out of me and onto the page
I’m looking for a place that has comfort, warmth, and light
Where my ideas can sit beside me waiting for the moment for me to give them shape.
This is a place where there is no room for worry
no room for lists or bills to pay
it’s a place where ideas tumble.
In the summer this place is everywhere but always outside.
Sun, light breeze, birds chirping, squirrels scurrying, plants growing. I need all that.
How can I bring the outside in with me in the fall
when the air cools and the day short,
where is my inside place?
I need to find it soon
my heart, my soul, and my creativity are on a desperate search.
The place where I learned the power of light.
My grandparents home in Maine has always had beams of sun and warmth moving through it. It's where I saw the multitude of forms that light can take on and how it affects everything it touches.
The place where sawdust abounds.
Behind that door is my grandfather's wood shop. Piles and piles of wood scraps, old boats, broken chairs and many other miscellaneous objects. Old posters are tacked on the walls and there's always a radio playing classical music. He carves hundreds of little wooden fish and distributes them to all his family and friends. A thin layer of sawdust covers everything in sight. The whole place makes you want to search for hidden treasures and build something.
