nature calling

As I have grown older (and much more evolved, thankfully,) I’ve learned that there is great solace in solitude. As much as community is a gift, so, too, is solitude. Perhaps this was a lesson I always knew on some level, as one would often find me buried in the pages of a book were one to look. I learned time and time again that the world can be harsh and unyielding, that curve balls are a basic element of our existence here, and that in the end I walk a path that on many levels I must walk alone. When I was younger, these stark facts would be debilitating and upsetting. Decades into this life, however, I am finding that these are fundamentally gifts because they have over time made me very strong and more assertive. They kick my butt out of the complacent comfort zone and into a refined form of who I am meant to be. There is a transitional state in our existence here in this world. I believe now that it is vital to accept this deep truth in order to live a happier— more fulfilling— life.

My mother has a phrase she uses quite a bit—“There is no crying in baseball.” It often made us giggle growing up hearing these words, but my mother is one of the strongest people I have ever known and it is not something to take lightly. She taught me firsthand to be resilient, to learn to exhibit significant grit in the face of adversity, and how to intellectually respond to a world that is often confusing or unfair. She is a realist in every sense of the word. Sometimes life is all sunshine and rainbows—but not always.


Life is often tidal and chaotic. It is intense, wild, and unpredictable. One minute you can be riding high on the waves and the next you can be pulled into the undertow without warning. This is the incredible polarity of being alive.


Whether something is a minor setback or something more colossal, the impact is still the same. You realize, at that moment, whatever control you thought you had simply did not exist.

Sometimes good people do ugly things. Often bad people do ugly things, too. And sometimes no one does anything at all, which can be a problem in itself. We can only control what we do and how we respond to situations or others. Everything else is outside of our scope, but it all can potentially impact our journey. The important part is believing there is a reason why and that there is something better coming on the other side of a situation. And that is why, when faced with an uncertain or precarious fate, it is important to be calm.

I believe we on some levels can manifest our own destinies with intention and dedicated work toward those goals, but ultimately we don’t maintain the control over our lives or our environments. There is great power in life’s storms. When I am seeking answers for when the bad things happen— the tough things especially— I always return to nature and the universe. The answers are never verbal, but they are apparent and timeless. They are primitive, wild, and ancient truths that one can always turn to for clarity.

In a thunderstorm, the clouds roll and change form, shapeshifting in response to the wind and inherent energy within.  It can be fierce and combative, with impenetrable darkness and a furious onslaught,. But eventually the sun will come. Often is starts as simply a small shaft of light piercing the darkness of a thunderhead. This is a reminder that no matter what the world throws at us, the sun always has the opportunity to shine if we allow a little light in. The storms of life, violent as they are, will pass.

Deep within the forest, a fire might erupt from the smallest of embers.  Thousand of acres are lost in ash. The world is quiet and trees are reduced to cinders. Yet, in time, a single green shoot will break through the ashes. And another. And then another. Until the forest itself is reborn once again. Nature teaches us that within all of us we have the ability to be a mythical Phoenix. Like the green shoot that fights against the charred landscape, we, too, have the ability the grow in the most desolate of circumstances.

This is a great part of why I feel so at peace in the desert. Death Valley, for example, is one of the most desolate places on earth. Badwater Basin is 282 feet below sea level. You would think in one of the hottest places on Earth that there would be no life, yet remarkably it is teeming with life. The desert after the rain comes almost explodes in a sea of color and activity seemingly overnight. This is a lesson in adaptability. We should all try to adapt a little more to where life plants us and be resilient enough to weather the dry periods. Life is transactional and seasonal. Every season is an opportunity to transform into something new. A big part of evolution is performance-related. Every tribulation we face is an opportunity to learn something new about ourselves or the world around us.


The larger purpose the desert embodies is that of “hope.” No matter how dire the circumstances, life finds a way to survive even the most challenging, seemingly impossible conditions.


The ocean, too, gives us answers. Many lessons come from the ocean, but one of the best is that of impermanence. The tide ebbs and flows and with it comes gifts from the sea. The shells are on the beach one moment and then the tide rushes in so that they may be carried back to sea. The coastlines change frequently. The sea is constantly in flux even on the stillest of mornings. It teaches us that life is not permanent and that we should have have an expectation of our experiences being smooth or rough.


Movement means that we are alive—that we are part of something much larger and more dynamic than ourselves. It implies a weightlessness, a buoyancy, a sense that we have to float with the inherent flow of our existence.


The cosmos as well provides us with lessons. A meteor can travel for billions of years, hurtling through space and time, before impacting our planet in a small flash of light streaking across the sky. Much like the meteorite, out time here is short in the physical sense. The landscape changes very slowly, continental plates shifting roughly 0.6 inches a year, yet we humans are a blip on the map in terms of the Earth’s history. The lesson is that the world will continue to turn on its axis whether we are here or not. We need to cherish every moment and choose to use the time we have to make meaningful, significant impacts.

Fossils are records of time and place. They teach us much about the impacts we leave behind. They are visual indicators of longevity. Like historic villages and burial mounds, fossils are records of habit and habitat. They teach us what should and should not be repeated. Buried in ribbons of sandstone or caves of lime, they also teach us that while life may be short, our impacts may be long. So we should treat our bodies and minds well while we are here and make efforts to live life fearlessly.

Nature teaches us the art of iteration. Each of us has the ability to evolve. But some days we aren’t going to get it right, and that is okay. Throughout history there have been many examples of mutations gone significantly wrong or creatures not evolving in ways that fundamentally served them. It’s okay to fail. It is perfectly okay to make mistakes in the majority of cases. Platypi exist, after all. The key is that we learn from them and grow from them. When we stop growing— when we stop evolving—we become obsolete. I think most of us, at some point or another, have shifted into higher versions of ourselves.

Not in all cases, of course, but we all have the ability to evolve through many versions of ourselves during our lives. We can look back later and see how significant growth is, but it doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It is stepping outside of our comfort zones and confronting those less tangible parts of who we are that cause significant evolution. I see where I have fallen short or can improve, and know I am capable of change and growth even if at times it may be difficult or scary.



Nature gives us all the tools to survive. We just have to seek them. Nature forces us to abandon what we cannot change and to be inspired by what gives us life and substance. The world is not sympathetic and we are not immune to the dangers of it, but it does give us answers for best practices on how to truly live a meaningful life.


When I started really delving into the “slow living” philosophy, it was a result of moving too fast. I was having an Icarus moment. I was living with my head, but not my heart, and it was causing my world to crumble because my priorities were out of alignment with where they should have been. Slow Living (or “still life” as I like to call it) became my mantra. I began to look to nature, as I had at many points in my life, in order to ground me. Finding moments of peaceful stillness is chaos and gaining clarity in your own fallibility are both incredible lessons.


I realized a fundamental truth about myself in the process.  I craved simplicity and solitude. In an unrelenting, powerful way.


For years I was intrinsically very afraid of silence and would fill my world with vibrance and chaos in order to drown that silence out. And not, suddenly, I found myself longing for the sound of ambiguous noise with also a preternatural inclination of desire. The idea of respite and engaging in a slower, simpler life is becoming more and more relevant to me in contrast to the pandemonium of the modern world.

Now, more than ever, it is important to find a quiet place or some sense of stability from the pressures of the modern world. Whether it be a physical place or a daily ritual, it is a fundamental act of self-love to find ways to replenish yourself and find inner peace.

I am planning to spend the next several months on here discussing different methods of best practices for simple living that have aided me on my journey so far, as well as any inspirational advice I received or came across along the way. The biggest takeaway, though, is that we should find those “moments” that ground us or define us. I would like you, for 2024, to find your “moment. “ And then let that be a catalyst for [positive change in the new year.

What brings you the most joy and most peace?

What are some ways you can channel that energy into your daily life?

If you could envision yourself doing anything in the world and being anything you wanted to be, what would you see?




Taylor P.

Architectural designer for form & function architecture, creative director for tamer animals, co-pilot of camp wrenwood, author/illustrator, musician (idol heart,) mom, space ace for Orion think.lab, northern soul, + vintage fashion enthusiast in Asheville, NC. ♡

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