Getting Dirty

Hands in the dirt can be strangely cleansing

Photo by Meghan Holmes via Unsplash.

Growing up, my family was not exactly what you’d call outdoorsy. On weekends (when we were done with chores, homework, rehearsal, and anything else), we sought our recreation at the nearest shopping mall. On vacations, we stayed in motels or hotels. I didn’t pitch my first tent until I was over 30. (Admittedly, I’ve only pitched a few since then, and always with help.) BUT, I’ve always loved being outside, in nature. Countless hours were spent playing in parks, riding bikes, and exploring the woods behind houses, and I always enjoyed birthday parties in our backyard.

Those memories, I would venture to say, were a large part of why my folks raised us outside of the big city. As city dwellers whose only jungle experience was the “Concrete Jungle,” they chose to emigrate to greener pastures.

I did the reverse. Growing up in the suburbs, replete with lawns, dirt, and trees, when I became an adult, I moved to NYC.

But I have always missed the greenery when away from it for too long.

This might explain why, at a recent conference, I stepped away as often as I could, to get a breath of fresh air, feel the sun on my skin, and ground myself. (Thanks to the organizers’ consciously-scheduled breaks, I did not have to play hooky or contend with FOMO.)

I savored my moments outside every time… and I realized they weren’t enough.

The weather was in the mid 90’s, so you would think that everyone would want to be inside where it was cool (or practically refrigerated, as the case may be). Yet on every break, people poured out of the rooms, abuzz about the session, and headed outside. It felt so good out there, it was hard to return to the indoors.

We have these primal instincts, and it dawned on me later that every time I felt resistance to go back inside, my survival instinct for having enough nature was alerting me I was still in need of more.

Funny, when we are infants and feeding, if the bottle is taken away too fast, we (and the world) know instantly. It is impossible to ignore or refute. After all, hungry is hungry. Yet there are days I spend holed up working on something, and I deny my need to get outside. I starve myself from Nature’s nourishment.

Well my proverbial “stomach” was growling at this conference, and dismissing it was not the answer.

One day ended a little early, giving us a large break before the evening event. I stepped away from all the wonderful people who were heading to the cocktail hour, and I walked to a quieter part of the hotel. I spent a good hour there, decompressing. There was a small pool, and it was empty. I went for a dip and then laid in a hammock under a tree. Eventually, I gathered myself and began to make my way back to the hotel to get ready for the evening’s festivities.

As I approached the gate leading from the woodsy pool area to the main walkway, I hesitated. The ground felt comfortable under my shoes and the grass looked so green. Was it as soft as it looked?

Nature was saying hello - and what was I going to say back?

Hi there!

I stood there on one leg, holding everything in my arms while simultaneously removing my shoes, one at a time. The soft earth and smooth, cool grass met my feet with the coziest welcome.

Thank you, grass and ground. It’s nice to be here with you, too.

It was so recharging to touch them, first with my feet, then with my hands (yes, I put everything I was holding down). Breathing in their freshness and richness, I was renewed.

The bliss of that moment stays with me still. I think, sometimes, going back to basics is the best way to forge ahead.