When I am out here, it feels like the world turns for me. I am not a cog in a system. I am a member of a community. A member of a congregation that will feed me when I require nourishment. The same group that will observe as I starve to death due to a lack of respect or education.
When I am out here, in the wilderness, in nature, I know that I am a man. I know because of the fear that nature’s eyes look upon me. However, I too understand what man has done to you, and that is why I am here. I am here because you cried out to me, saying, “come here, look here, listen here, touch this, smell this.” And no other thing ever made me feel that way.
But I never felt such a strange feeling as to have your eyes fall upon me in fear. Straight to fear, gripped by it, stuck, cemented in place, by fear. Only to slip into curiosity, and through a long deep stare to see something familiar. Compassion. So the suspicion falls from the eyes of the creature like a tear onto the forest floor. Then a sweet breeze of contentment blows over us like it never was.
When I am out here, I know that I am not alone. Even when I do not see you, and maybe, maybe, you do not see me. We know, that we are not alone.
When we are out there, together, I know that we may never cross paths. Yet, I am confident that if our eyes fall upon one another, we will know each other.
I belong out here, and out here I belong.