I've walked in the same little valley fifteen minutes from my house for as long as I can remember. No one really goes down there, it's calm, I love the way the light shines in through the leaves of the trees. My best friend Stevie and I used to wander down there together, but since she moved away it feels lonely. My favourite things are the purple flowers that grow on the sides of rocks, and the overgrown moss-covered trees that have been there for literally hundreds of years. No photos I've taken have managed to capture it's massive scale or overwhelming beauty, but maybe that's what's magical about this place.
The last time I ventured down there I feeling quite stressed out, but by the end of my walk I was feeling really cathartic about everything. Those trees have been there for centuries, they were there before I was born, and they'll still be there when I'm dead. The birds in the trees, they don't even know I exist, yet here I am still writing about them. I felt a very strong sense of insignificance.
I'd felt insignificant before. I've felt socially insignificant in a group full of people, even some of whom I considered friends. I'd wondered if anyone would kick up a fuss if I just disappeared.
But this was different, I felt insignificant but in a good way. I mean, sure those trees don't care about me but nor do they care about Beyonce, Gandhi, Neil Armstrong, or The Kardashians. Any given one of those birds wouldn't have a clue who any of those people are, and it doesn't give a shit about a single one of them. One of these particular trees can live up to 600 years so our short, tiny lives mean nothing to it. This may sound strange but I've never had a thought as liberating as this one.
I've spent an extensive amount of my time on this planet worrying about how I'll be remembered at the end (of high school/of life) instead of what I'll remember. This ancient tree kind of put things into perspective for me. I was making my minuscule problems seem huge, when compared to this tree my entire existence is just a blip of insignificant nothing to it.
I don't mean that in a nihilistic way like "our lives are completely meaningless so why bother doing anything" I actually mean the opposite. So if our lives are just a tiny speck in the universe then the only meaning it has is what you give it, and the only person it needs to mean anything to is you. For me that means enjoying everyday I have on this planet to its fullest, because not all of us will be here for 600 years.
If your feeling insignificant in a bad way or just plain bummed out about your place in the universe, then I encourage you to find ways to revel in what a huge thing we're apart of. Though I love doing this through nature, I will also feel the same way visiting a history museum, or even just taking the train home.
Yesterday I found a diary entry I wrote in 2010 explaining
WHAT REALLY MATTERS:
. Being happy.
. Finding something and someone that makes you happy.
. Being nice to everyone.
. Looking after nature
. Making other people happy.
. Getting a good job.
. Ice cream
These are all still very valid answers FYI.
'til next time, over and out
xx
