Where The Wild Things Go
As far back as I can remember, I've had a deep connection to the natural world. A connection hard to express, much less quantify into words. Whenever I've spent time in the wild there has always been this feeling of being overcome. One that almost intoxicates me; each moment transcendent, even cathartic. Perhaps it's love. Perhaps something more. The truth is that I've always been happiest when I find myself in those, the places where the wild things go.
Throughout my life as both conservationist, and wildlife photographer, I’ve had the opportunity to travel to some of our planet’s most breathtaking wildernesses. To share precious moments with incredible creatures who allow me fleeting glimpses into their delicate kingdoms. I now have the humbling privilege of sharing these gifts with peoples from all walks of life. Some seeking adventure, others escaping the white noise saturation of modernity; yet all are in need of rekindling the embers within their souls... and regardless their origin, despite whatever tentative reticence, their time spent was as Nature intended.
What is it about her embrace that soothes our souls as nothing else can? I’ve witnessed it time, and again with the many people I’ve shared adventures with; what may begin as something foreign, evolves. An acceptance, followed by excitement, leads towards a love that resolves to a lovely longing. One in which you hope to never leave. Is this some sort of spell cast upon us, these myriad intoxicating smells, melodic sounds, and unfathomable scenes before us? Is it perhaps our soul chasing that longing; For something primal, and finding what is needed to thrive? Maybe there is no explanation, and maybe that’s for the best. I only know that none who spend time in Nature ever leave the same, for it is our souls’ playground.
Someone once asked me if I've ever grown weary of spending time with Nature; observing wildlife.
Simply put, how could I?
To me, time spent with Nature is breathing. The more time spent exploring her vast wildernesses, the more alive I feel! It's emancipating. And, as I stated earlier, often times cathartic.
The stark contrast comes the longer I'm away from Her landscapes, or the wildlife that seek refuge within them. When distanced I’m a suffocated, floundering soul. The truth is a moment with nature cannot be replicated, as each are unique, and all a masterpiece. As such wildlife photography is so special to me: It affords me the opportunity to peer through the looking glass, steal a glimpse of a work of art, and freeze a fleeting moment that will never happen again. I am in turn granted the opportunity to share this fragile magic with others, others who themselves have the longing.
Having said that, it must be said that Nature, and Her children humanity, are currently painting a darker picture, a bleaker tale. A tale at once tragic, yet hopeful. One of triumph perhaps, given perseverance. Even as I write, this: my ode to our planet’s wildernesses, (And what I am about to say runs the risk of sounding forlorn), I know that our incredible planet is hurting, and it is by our hands. Her vast oceans becoming devoid of life; Blameless, delicate life lost to our demands. Vast palettes of Her landscapes wiped barren… and all of it, by our hands.
In this story we are the assailants. I say all of this not as judgement, but rather as Call to Arms; to Doing.
To becoming the best part of us...
Our Mother is hurting, and as only our hands can heal Her, then heal Her we must. Ours is a shrinking world. One in which we've detached ourselves, in both practice, and essence. Cutting, almost surgically, those fibers tethering our souls. We are deliberately, alarmingly severing the delicate connection we have with Her. We squander Her bounty, Her riches, with complete disregard for the other beings dependent upon Her embrace.
Enough.
We must now, and forevermore, tread cautiously, delicately.
For, and here I've no apologies for our shared verity, once these wild spaces are gone, so too shall we perish… or at least the most beautiful part of us. I dread the thought of that.
For we've done this to these; These, Nature’s last incredible wildernesses, these places where the wild things go to find freedom, to find refuge; these places that make us feel whole. These created senses of wonder planted within us. They aren't immune to this fate befallen the rest of the planet. Surely not.
No. These remarkable places are far from fortified fortresses, somehow safe, sanitary, and segregated. These remaining marvels of the natural world, these kingdoms, are as fragile as they are imposing. They exist, after a fashion, in a tenuous balance; Hovering, just barely, beyond the bludgeoning grasp of man… For now. But humanity's greed, as is its wont, exceeds its grasp. And it is humanity who must now do for Nature what She did for it; Allow it to thrive; exist.
Life cannot be measured in gold.
Where the wild things go… just thinking about that phrase fills me with the thrill of chasing my happiness. I’ve chased those moments as a little boy, and I chase them now as a man. The moments I've spent out there, the lessons I've learned about our connection to this planet, about myself as child of this earth, have formed that man. They've served as my lighthouse, my beacon; I remember them each intimately, and I'm better off because of them.
I think back to the times I've spent on the golden Savannah of Africa, walking in the wake of lions, padding dusty paths laid down by Africa’s great matriarchs; I think of lush jungles; India!
Seeing a tiger for the first time (I wept). I recollect moments spent upon frozen Yellowstone, cloaked in a veil of winter. Listening to wolves howl, watching bison part snow with a humbling ease… and in all these moments I recall thinking… we need Nature’s wild spaces as much as they need us. She, reveals Us, as we heal Her.
I've had this topic in mind long before conceiving this piece. If I'm being honest, I wasn’t sure where I'd go with it. Thinking, perhaps, I would write a story of wildlife, and where they prefer to be; their homes.
However, as I began writing, I realized the concept of “Where the Wild Things Go” is where we, humanity ourselves go to heal. Wild things go where all things long to go: To respite and healing, to peace and comfort. We all want to go home. Going home reignites the embers of your soul; to find the things that make you… you, and that is what spending time with Nature is, it’s your soul finding its way home, a home where the wild things go.
