The World’s Soul | Teen Ink

The World’s Soul MAG

November 1, 2013
By NightGoddess17 PLATINUM, New City, New York
NightGoddess17 PLATINUM, New City, New York
34 articles 0 photos 63 comments

In human terms, the date is October 22. The time is 3:42 p.m. However, in nature, the date is autumn, the time right now. Nature has no limits, no constraints or boundaries. Here, everything is unique. No tree copies another, and no leaf is exactly the same. Each acorn falls in a different spot until the earth is coated in them. Here I feel no pressure to fit in; here I feel like my own person. But I fit in with nature like the last piece in a puzzle – effortlessly.

A creature bounds toward me, her eyes bright with excitement and anticipation. Her tail invitingly waves to me, and I accept her offer. Together we weave through the grass and trees, causing the colors of the leaves to blend into an intricate tapestry of greens, reds, yellows, and browns of every tint and shade. Our play is disrupted when her focus is drawn to a rustling in the bushes. A beast has invaded our territory, and she charges to slay the interloper. She returns moments later with her head and ears low in defeat and shame: the villain skittered up a tree and out of reach.

This causes a chain reaction. A bird disturbed by the moving branches takes flight, calling out to its family. They ascend to the heavens together, chirping like gossiping girls as they swoop and turn in perfect synchronization. Their melody bounces off the trees, calling to lost friends who respond and quickly rejoin the pack, only to land again on a new bush. Their chorus joins the crickets' orchestra, playing softly for all who wish to hear. Nature always plays for those who know how to listen.

Above me, the clouds move quickly to the beat of nature's lullaby. Every breath stings my nose like the bees that fly around my ears. The air smells fresh and brisk compared to the stuffy school classrooms. I sense a hint of ocean spray, and I cling to the sweatshirt that I bought on the island months ago. I know this scent is only in my memory, but here I'm so in touch with my soul that I'm whisked away to my happiest times. I feel this breath travel to my lungs where my heart beats strong and warm.

At last, the sun pokes through the clouds and leaves to shine its divine light on the grass, on the leaves, on the animals. It is as Ralph Waldo Emerson believed: nature has soul, and every soul is nature. Everything is unique, and everything is beautiful.


The author's comments:
My teacher challenged me to sit outside for 30 minutes with nothing but a pen and paper. I wrote a little piece on my transcendentalist experience.

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