It’s bitter cold and a list of wild animals frequent the feeders.
They include a pair of cardinals, six blue jays, several white-throated sparrows, juncos, chickadees, titmouse and seven squirrels. I’ve probably missed a few species. Apparently the birds of prey - a juvenile hawk and an owl - are no where near this small yard at the moment. I’ve seen both hawk and owl right outside my window.
I’m at my computer waiting for the day to warm up, before setting out on a hike. I’m struggling, as I do every few months, trying to find a way to fit my outdoor life and my writing life together.I’m sure that I want to bear witness to the vanishing open space. I know that global warming, corporate greed, and a misguided spirituality dominate the culture around me. I just cannot buy into it. I don’t want more, bigger, newer, improved - I want peace, fresh air, clear creeks and healthy forests.
When I started this writing venture, my goal was to take my laptop and cell phone with me to the woods. I do my best writing outdoors - for clients and for myself. The latest computer and phone technology does not perform well in natural settings. It’s not the same writing indoors later, after coming in from the woods.
I’m feeling oppressed by the computer and the expectation that I’m available 24/7. The skills I need to survive as a freelance writer are in direct conflict with the skills I need for wilderness survival. As a result, I’m doing both poorly.
I want to feel free to go away for weeks at a time, like I used to even as recently as ten years ago. Nothing’s stopping me, except the freelancer’s reality that I have to spend as much, if not more time marketing than writing. That thought makes me feel like I have a granite boulder on my chest.
That’s an indicator that I’m on the wrong path. So, do I take a vow of poverty and live with nature? I’m concerned about taking needed resources from shrinking habitats. The animals and plants need a place to live, too.
I have no answers. In an ideal world, I’d have enough clients to support a modest lifestyle, so I could spend the bulk of my time in the woods. In fact, I have to choose between being a true naturalist and surviving as a writer. I don’t like the choice.
Most of my fellow Americans spend less than 10 minutes a day outdoors. I’d die if I had only 10 outdoor minutes a day. I am grateful that I have the health, the local open space and the skills to enjoy what’s left of the natural world. As our material culture evolves in a direction I find offensive and destructive, I may be one of the few people privileged to enjoy vanishing beauty.
I know what I’m going to do. It’s what I always do.