The series terra|form and Sweet Fields reflect on the restorative and grounding qualities of the natural world.
In the wild I am reminded of my form. I am reminded that this form is all that separates me from the tumbleweeds or the ants at my knees. I am reminded that the atoms which shape me are no more or less valuable than those belonging to the lizard scurrying under the tent I’ve built to shelter my skin or the grains of sand sandwiched between my toes. I am just a structure surrounded by structures, so diverse, yet so essentially similar that there is no way to separate theirs from my own.
To remind myself of this humbling quality, I often take drives into the countryside. As I travel along empty roads, the ebb and flow of the landscape pulls me into a meditative state, watching the horizon line rise and fall. On occasion I catch brief moments where the earth and the sky meet unobstructed to form the color blocks of earth. As John Muir professed, the process of losing his eyesight drove him away from mechanical engineering and toward “the sweet fields”—to transform his life and prioritize the study and appreciation of the natural world. I too turn from the chaos of our current state to the calm of the land that surrounds me.