By Russ Watts
Where would we be without our outdoors? And by outdoors, I mean the parks, forests, waterways and non-developed lands that many of us use as recreational locations for biking, hiking, running and walking, skiing and snowshoeing, mountain biking, kayaking and canoeing, rafting, fishing, hunting or shooting photos, birding, mountaineering, climbing, sailing, paddle boarding, windsurfing, and so much more. I will go out on a limb and make the statement that we need these places to survive. Literally, like the air we breathe and the water we drink, we need these places to connect to something greater, something more profound and something that connects us to our deeper self and the infinite.
Do you remember the first time you stood at the bottom of a cliff, harness on, tied in and ready to climb? Can you feel the rush of excitement as your raft turns the corner where the roar of the rapids just ahead fill your ears and rattle your being with excitement and possibly terror? When you close your eyes and go to that "special place in nature" where you feel a sense of peace, a location that when you think of it, you almost immediately take a deep breath and slow down your momentum? What is it about these places that we are personally connected to and what do they do to us? And why?
I will only speak for myself. I was given the privilege to grow up exploring the Southern Sierra Nevada Mountains from my earliest memories. The smell of pine in the air, the dry heat in the high altitude sunlight and the crisp coolness in the shade is forever etched in my memory. The starlight at night was
enough to walk down our forest paths by, and tracking deer, bear, squirrels, and marmots was our distraction to going somewhere. What did these early moments in my life do for me and why did my extended family bring me here?
The easy answer is because that is what our family did for generations. This one cabin, this national forest and the national parks nearby were our playgrounds for then three, now four generations. For a family that came from Illinois 5 generations ago, this Wild West was just what the wild Watts clan needed to take a break from the day to day Southern
California LA/ Orange County high speed urban life and reconnect to something more. For me, it became the something more that would be my life's calling, to bring other people into this natural world away from the sidewalks and streets, cars and buildings, into a naked presence, a place where we humans have existed for tens of thousands of years, a place to pause and reconnect to self.
If you think it is a bold statement to say we need these places like we need air and water, a need to connect to the infinite that is deeply important to our existence, then I challenge you to think of a concrete, metal and plastic world without any of these places, or even just the loss of one of your favorite places. What are we doing to keep these forests, parks, wild-lands and waters as clean, pristine and wild as possible? Are we educating others who don’t yet know about the wonder of these places or have access to them and are we also advocating for their preservation to the best of our abilities? When was the last time that you shared your passion for the
outdoors and walked a trail with someone who has only walked on sidewalks their entire lives? How many days do we spend in the wilderness just for us? Are we mindful of each of our daily actions that connect us each to this greater well-being of our wilds? Did we support the #getoutside or did we do a little shopping on Black Friday? Did we find something to do, or do “less” (meditate, go for a mindfulness walk) to reconnect with ourselves?
One of the most powerful moments for me in the outdoors is when I am able to slow down my pace, be present to the place and time that I am in and the people who are around me and breathe in the air: truly, slowly. It allows me to reconnect to myself, to the greater-ness that we are all connected to. It isn’t always easy. Life happens and our habits of doing and producing help us not only survive but pay the bills. But, each time I pause, each time I breathe it all in and take as long as I need to absorb it all, I am reinvigorated, more alive, more present. In the outdoor education and recreation industry (as with many other industries) it is common for us to get wrapped up in the “achieve, do more, go, go, go” mindset. Would it serve us to have a paradigm shift? If we are able to slow down, will our impact improve? What do we need to do personally to get there? What is the legacy we want to leave? What do we need to do to slow down, check in and get out?
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Just Being and the Outdoors