Journal #6: Campus Rec

When I hear the word nature, the TCU recreation center is the last place that comes to my mind. Nevertheless, our class of enthusiastic nature-lovers found ourselves on the patio by the pool for today’s class. With a chance of thunderstorms in the forecast, we had to make do, and so we placed a few lawn chairs into a circle around a sad mound of grass. It turns out a big, beautiful tree had once blossomed in this spot, but today all that remained was an uneven field of dirt that needed to be weeded. I noticed as I was sitting in class today, it was much easier for my mind to wander and to notice a variety of distractions. I could see the swim team holding practice in the lap pool, a few young girls were sunbathing by the pool, and an old man was swimming laps. I found that it was harder to establish a connection with nature because I felt still stuck in the middle of civilization. I noticed a different dynamic than when we have class in a wilder setting, such as a park.

I found it ironic that today was the first time in our eight weeks of class that there was a chance of a thunderstorm and one of our readings was on the beauty of storms. John Muir’s A Windstorm in the Forests, depicts the power and omnipresence of the wind. Muir draws on the fragility of some of the trees and the strengths of others, and they tend surrender to the wind. I thought it intriguing how Muir depicts that storms can be beautiful and natural. When I think of a storm, danger and destruction comes to my mind.

Today’s discussion reminded me of a storm about 12 years ago at my cabin—the day still so vivid in my mind. It was early evening, probably around 5 o’clock, and my father and I had taken our boat out for a ride. When we had left the dock, the sun was high in the sky, with a few white, fluffy cumulus clouds and a light breeze. However, not even an hour later, the sky began to darken rapidly and large, dark storm clouds began to overwhelm the sky. The temperature dropped and the air begin to chill. Flashes of lightning illuminated the sky and rain began to fall. Noticing the rapid change in weather, my dad turned our boat around and began to head for the marina. On our way back, we noticed a boat that was struggling to make it back to shore, as it was not prepared for such a heavy storm. It was a small, fishing boat occupied by a young couple. It was not long before the waves and rain began to overtake the boat, causing it to start to sink. I, who was only five at the time, watched my dad rush in and begin to help shovel water out of the boat and rescue the two individuals from the sinking boat. We then sped to the marina as fast as we could—all the while we were trying to outrun, escape the storm. I was fearful of the storm, wanting it to go away, wondering why it was so destructive.

Getting back to Muir’s writing on the storm, I was really forced to change my perspective. Most people, myself included, like to look at the physical features (mountains, rivers), without even noticing the wind, which is present everywhere. Muir contends that winds are far more beautiful and sublime, but at times can be as visible as flowing water. I found this intriguing, because I never even think about the wind, unless it is having a direct effect on me. For instance, if I am going for a run and the wind is strong or if the wind is blowing away my utensils at a picnic. I also liked Muir’s use of figurative language in his writing; it made the words come alive. I liked his use of personification and simile when describing the wind: “Now whispering and cooing through the branches like a sleepy child, now roaring like the ocean.” My goal for this week is to notice, and appreciate, the nature and beauty of the wind.