I have spent a lot of time outdoors. Because of this, most of my adult life has revolved around an outdoor metaphor. I don’t know which metaphor. Probably something about the outdoors having rules where the city does not.
Outdoors meaning the wild or the woods or the bush or forest. Outside, surrounded by nature. Not in this holistic hippy sense, more in a calming, formidable indifference. I know my boundaries in natural settings. I know what I can and cannot do. I understand the rules. I respect these rules. It is my church. It is very relaxing.
If there are storm clouds on the horizon, there will be a storm. If it rains you will get wet. If it is winter, there will be cold. In the summer, heat. So forth, so on, et cetera et cetera. It is the truth. It does set me free.
This urbanity is a most intentionally confusing thing. I like the people and the distraction. I love the opulence. I enjoy the face of humanity and it’s every evolving social construction.
In the wild, nature is in control.
In the city, politics is control.
Nature never lies to you.
I cannot compliment the city as such.
I miss the woods. I miss it very much.