The breeze slightly flutters the delicate blades of the green grass, causing the field to sway harmonious with the wind. Sunshine streams over my body, a slight reminder of the fleeting, hazy days of summer. I lay here in absolute isolation, in the definition of the middle of nowhere, in some remote paradise lacking evidence of modern civilization. Hypnotized by the limitless sky, drowned by the sound of pure silence. Much too far from the bustling of city traffic and any daunting corporate building. Alone and uninhibited.
The remainders of the damp, muddy ground seep through my loose, cotton shirt. The sensation refreshes me. I laugh at the idea of a stained white shirt. To me, dirty clothes indicate an unordinary life. A life full of passion and chasing dreams. The clean-clothed, neatly folded, dry-cleaned worshippers of the world favor far too much order and precision. I feel small and insignificant here, but perhaps, extraordinary nature has that effect on everyone. Beds of colorful wildflowers surround me, the sunshine casting rainbows through their vibrancy. I have never been this alone, but in a sense, with all this life contiguous to me, I have never been in more abundant company. My identity is irrelevant. What is an identify if there are no humans to gauge it? Analyze it? Categorize it? Here, I am of no more importance than these blooming flowers and blades of glass and the towering of sky.
The sweet fragrance of flowers engulfs me like a tidal wave of perfume. Bees begin to swarm around everywhere, seeking sugary pollen, buzzing around with no regards to anything but their one task at hand. The process is so mundane and structured, and yet, remains absolutely essential for survival. There have no drive-thru, no oversized grocery stores, no home-cooked meals. We may think we are independent, but could we truly survive on our own terms? In what may not be ideal conditions? Without the assistance we often overlook?

The snowcapped, pointy mountains seems within my arm’s reach, but the thick forests enclose my meadow. There is no end, no beginning. The trees stand proud and majestic as they have for centuries. Above me, I see only a vivid blue, a color so unlike the polluted perception of our smog-laden skies. I let my rational thoughts subside, pressing my body against the soft Earth. Humankind has never seemed more flawed, but life has never felt more spectacular. I am one of this planet; one of the miniscule pieces composing the beautiful puzzle representing our world.

The inflated, white clouds glide along their respectable paths across the canvas of blue. They paint pictures of a dog, a castle, even a train. The abstract shapes take me back to blissful childhood days, the sticky afternoons spent lying on my lawn admiring the same vast sky. My shirt is soaked, sweat saturates my forehead, and leaves and other ground residue have infested my tangled hair. Society would condemn my disheveled appearance. Demand me to stop living in a fantasy, and stop spending so much precious time daydreaming. And tomorrow, I must return to that industrial jungle of materialism and conformity. Return to a society orbiting around the almighty dollar and a tedious work ethic. Return to ignoring the delicacy of life and the brilliance of nature. I neglect such thoughts, as reality will arrive soon enough. Instead, I hold onto today, onto this splendid moment, in the serendipitous place where the skies seem limitless and thoughts run free.