Touching Grass
Get outta here, go on, shoo! | Listen (4 min)
The wild becomes trite when we experience it on a screen. Photographs and videos of sunsets, flowers, and rivers are scrolled past, even though standing before them on our own two feet would render us speechless. One image of nature begins to look like another. If we’re far gone, we glance out our windows in the real world and think, “That’s a pretty picture. Oh well. Better get back to the keyboard.”
Without realizing it, I’ve been in that frame of mind. I’m not sure how long I was there, sitting in that frying pan. This glowing screen/magic mirror has a way of sucking time and making everything else feel unimportant. Of making colors not set at seventy-five percent brightness seem dull.
Two weeks ago, I was moping around the house, frustrated at my lack of online writing success. In my restlessness, I happened to glance outside at our embarrassingly-high grass. It needs mowing, I thought, the neighbors probably hate us. Mowing sounded better than moping, so off I went.
Yes. I literally went outside to touch grass. At least blade to grass. I wanted to sweat and move and get the questions and feelings of failure out of my body, and I knew a walk wouldn’t be enough. I donned my sunhat, slathered on the sunblock, and tucked my pant legs into my long socks (I looked ridiculous, but the ticks are bad out here).
For an hour, I guided that machine back and forth across the lawn. I thought about the space I was cultivating around my writing. The creative communities of which I was a part. I considered my own definition of success. I asked myself what I wanted and if I was still finding joy.
I’m not going to tell you all the conclusions I reached, but I’ll say this: with every pass I made on that stretch of earth, the virtual world became less and less important.
I remembered that there are creators here in my hometown. Meetups, get-togethers, open-mic nights, and conventions. Zines and little free libraries. The great outdoors.
Community can be nurtured anywhere, but it’s important to attend to where you exist in space and time. You must, as the old saying goes, grow where you’re planted.
That might be poison to write on one’s blog, but there it is.
Befriending and supporting other writers and readers is the best and most vital part of this platform. I love getting to know all of you and hearing your individual voices. Being here has helped me come into my own as a writer.
But every time I turn from the keyboard, I see a whole world, so packed with healing grace that cutting a few blades of grass in the late morning before a spring shower can break the blue-light, virtual-as-reality illusion and bring me back to myself.
I’ll be finishing up my publishing schedule for May and taking the month of June off (more on this in the monthly Stop At The Tavern). I’ll still be here, reading and commenting, posting a few Notes, but I hope to return refreshed and more connected to my immediate surroundings.
If you’ve considered doing anything similar, take this as your sign. Run off and have an adventure in the wild blue yonder.
I’ll see you there.
If you enjoyed this writing…
Sitting in silence
There’s no one more average than me. As long as I don’t speak, I get by unseen, especially in a crowd. I like it that way. Going to museums, restaurants, and movie theaters alone—that’s how I recharge. And in all my years of solitary outings, I’ve never once gotten a reaction. Of any kind, from anyone.
Painting is The Horoscope by Victor-Gabriel Gilbert, 1847-1933.
You always have the most peaceful tone and wisdom. Thank you so much for providing such a warm light.
It’s a wonderful idea, Jennifer, and I’m glad you’ll be able to take some time off! I need to get outdoors more, as well - thankfully, for once, I’m actually keeping some plants alive, which is a nice little escape during the day!
You’re blessed to have ways to connect in the real world! I should see whether there’s anything similar around here, as I’ve been starting to wish I had more real-world interactions, as well.
I’ve been needing to take a month or two off from Substack increasingly frequently, so posting less often is probably going to be helpful for me on that front. I’ve also mostly stopped putting energy into notes, which I think helps me.