Chapter 7 - Experience
Ludovico Einaudi wrote a piece of music titled "Experience." It's a bit repetitive, but it's intensely emotional anyways. It rather reminds me of the human experience. One of my favorite things to do is to walk alone in the woods. I went the other day, and it began raining as I walked. I, of course, wandered on, unphased by the rain. I was unaffected by most of the drops as the thick canopy of leaves captured that majority as they fell. I was left with this odd cognitive disconnect where I could hear the heavy rain falling, but not feel it. This is why I go to the woods. For the solitude, the sounds, the smells, the serenity, and the silence, and I do mean silence. Some people view sound and silence as paradoxical ideas, but I do not. To me, silence means a lack of human noise. It means that I am surrounded by only the sounds of our natural universe. I go to the woods to experience. Sensory deprivation tanks exist, and people often use them to find calm. I go to the woods to experience sensory overload. I focus on one sense at a time, first examining the feeling of dirt beneath my feet, then feeling the breeze on my skin, then examining the smell of flora and fauna wafting my way, then listening to the sound of rustling leaves and so on and so forth. I find calm in all the little, beautiful details; all the things that go unnoticed. This is what I mean by experience. To truly, truly experience, one must exist fully in the moment. I tend to forget about my life beyond the woods as I walk. I let my senses take over and my thoughts wander. I experience the world in the truest sense of the word.