A Poem By Robin Grapa
Back in 2013, I started to follow the blog of a young woman who was posting updates as she hiked her way along the Pacific Crest Trail. One of the world's most epic hikes, it stretches 4,300km all the way from Mexico to Canada. The trail passes through California, Oregon and Washington and traverses both deserts and mountain passes. After completing her journey she penned the following poem.
I don't want money. I want shelter, food and water.
I don't want diamonds. I want winking stars and moonlight.
I don't want a bouquet of cut long-stem roses. I want wildflowers growing along the edge of a path, leading me somewhere. Anywhere.
I don't want the biggest, latest plasma tv. I want a series of vistas that I work hard to see and stories of what I encountered to get there.
I don't want a big, cushy recliner. I want the perfect rock to lean against, a divet in the dirt that fits my butt just right and maybe an old decaying log to prop my feet up on.
I don't want make-up and perfume. I want dirt under my fingernails and the scent of pine, sage and an occasional patch of wild blueberries swirling around me.
I don't want expensive, aged wine. I want to dip an overly-used bottle into a crisply cold mountain stream or trickling spring.
I don't want cars and the hum of city life. I want crickets, birds, frogs, wind in the leaves, footsteps on the earth and the silence of the forest.
I don't want schedules. I want simple. I want what's there. What's always been there. It's simple and it's all natural. It's reliable. It's peaceful, private, and personal. It's a place to melt every sense I have into one giant organic orb of being. To just be.
I want to be outside. I miss it... I miss being outside. Every day. All day. Moving, seeing, experiencing, struggling, loving, feeling, being as alive as I can feel in the most naturally comfortable way possible.
I don't want to sleep indoors ever again. I want to feel a bite from the cold air on my face after I peek outside from the warmth of my sleeping bag. Every single day. I want to wake in the darkness of early morning, stars still twinkling above. I want to walk, silently and carefully as the natural light slowly brings my path into view. I want to watch the sky wake up with me in pastel colors and diminishing shadows. I want light breezes to carry me along when I feel tired. I want the flowers to smile at me and the mountains to invite me in. I want to climb into their mysteriousness - to immerse myself in their beautiful secrets. I want to surround myself with the air of desolate nature.
Every single day, I want to wake up outside.
I don't want diamonds. I want winking stars and moonlight.
I don't want a bouquet of cut long-stem roses. I want wildflowers growing along the edge of a path, leading me somewhere. Anywhere.
I don't want the biggest, latest plasma tv. I want a series of vistas that I work hard to see and stories of what I encountered to get there.
I don't want a big, cushy recliner. I want the perfect rock to lean against, a divet in the dirt that fits my butt just right and maybe an old decaying log to prop my feet up on.
I don't want make-up and perfume. I want dirt under my fingernails and the scent of pine, sage and an occasional patch of wild blueberries swirling around me.
I don't want expensive, aged wine. I want to dip an overly-used bottle into a crisply cold mountain stream or trickling spring.
I don't want cars and the hum of city life. I want crickets, birds, frogs, wind in the leaves, footsteps on the earth and the silence of the forest.
I don't want schedules. I want simple. I want what's there. What's always been there. It's simple and it's all natural. It's reliable. It's peaceful, private, and personal. It's a place to melt every sense I have into one giant organic orb of being. To just be.
I want to be outside. I miss it... I miss being outside. Every day. All day. Moving, seeing, experiencing, struggling, loving, feeling, being as alive as I can feel in the most naturally comfortable way possible.
I don't want to sleep indoors ever again. I want to feel a bite from the cold air on my face after I peek outside from the warmth of my sleeping bag. Every single day. I want to wake in the darkness of early morning, stars still twinkling above. I want to walk, silently and carefully as the natural light slowly brings my path into view. I want to watch the sky wake up with me in pastel colors and diminishing shadows. I want light breezes to carry me along when I feel tired. I want the flowers to smile at me and the mountains to invite me in. I want to climb into their mysteriousness - to immerse myself in their beautiful secrets. I want to surround myself with the air of desolate nature.
Every single day, I want to wake up outside.
