Nature.

Blurgh. I am sort of at a loss. I spent my morning at the aquarium, spending a majority of the time watching sea otters.

For those of you that don’t know, sea otters are my spirit animal. To me, this means that they are the animal I have the closest affinity to. No, you can’t just choose your favorite animal and call it your own. It kind of happens to you. Like a click in your head, and you say AH, so that is my kindered spirit.

You can make fun of me all you want, I know what my spirit animal is and you are just jealous.

However, watching them roll around and eat raw clams made something ache inside of me. As I pondered what this weird sense of remorse was, I realized it was my disconnect with nature that has happened gradually over the past year or so.

I find great pleasure in being outside. I love to hike. I love to snowshoe and snowboard. I love to spend my summer outside every waking moment. I have hopes to climb mountains.

When did I lose that and become this city girl? Granted, I love my life. I love living in Seattle. I love getting dressed up and going out on the town. But I am sad that I don’t take long hikes with my dog– where he can be off leash and dart after squirrels. Even my dog is becoming urban.

Ugh.

I need to find the perfect balance. I need to dedicate more of my weekend to outdoor escapes. I need to get out of the city as much as I can.

My co-worker sent me this poem. The earth is calling me back. I better listen.

The Moment

The moment when, after many years

of hard work and a long voyage

you stand in the centre of your room,

house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,

knowing at last how you got there,

and say, I own this,

 is the same moment when the trees unloose

their soft arms from around you,

the birds take back their language,

the cliffs fissure and collapse,

the air moves back from you like a wave

and you can’t breathe.

 No, they whisper. You own nothing.

You were a visitor, time after time

climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.

We never belonged to you.

You never found us.

It was always the other way round.

Margaret Atwood

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