High Meadow Seating Area (Pine Park)

Personally, I like to think that a resting seat is strategically placed on a trail to make one appreciate a view. So, when I sat down on one of the three seats made of stone, I took it all in. It's a wonderful spot to appreciate the beauty of nature, but I was here to appreciate the finer details and subtle scratch marks, not the entire painting. That's when my eyes darted toward a lone stump not too far off from the path. There was something moving, my eyes squinted and adjusted to show me two small insects. Since I'm not an entomologist, I had no idea what kind of bugs these were. They moved erratically yet methodically, darting along the circular, flat head of the stump like two drunk boxers fighting for the last bottle. My mind couldn't help but wonder what these bugs might have been thinking, were they exploring the meadow, maybe scouting a new food source, possibly scheming on their enemies downfall, or simply admiring the view like I was. Hard to say, considering they're bugs. But, before I could snap a photo of the stump and it's occupants, the two were gone, an Irish goodbye. A wave or a "see you later" would've been nice though.

I had surprisingly a lot on my to-do-list on what I thought would be a lazy Saturday. This resulted in my usual commute to Pine Park being pretty later in the day, around 6:30 pm. By the time I got to my usual rock seating, it was already getting dark, good thing I brought my flashlight. The little light that was left provided very little help in my attempts to notice things. However, it wasn't until I looked farther up the trail and saw the entrance to the forest. Dread was all that I felt in that moment. I don't know why I felt this way, I go on night walks plenty of times back home and I do not get these same feelings. Maybe it was the trees, considering there were none back at home. The way they folded around the trail like encroaching hands. Maybe it was the claustrophobic nature of the forest compared to the more open spaces of home. Various unknown sounds just of out of sight, hiding behind the veil of trees. Maybe it was the predisposed notion of horror media commonly happening in forests. After my observations I proceeded through the trail in a constant of being on edge, yet the quiet ambience gave me a sense of calm as well. When I eventually walked back to my dorm, I did some research on these feelings. An article I found, https://tinyurl.com/4rfvzvry, explained why I felt this sense of dread when I looked upon the forest entrance. According to the article, these feelings are deeply rooted in the DNA of humans, an instinct to alert one of possible dangers. Although the lifestyle in which these instincts were at their prime has mostly phased out, the instincts themselves have not. Next time I will be sure to not go out so late.

The day I went out on my usual walk to Pine Park, it was particularly gloomy, skies filled with dull clouds and the forest deprived of its natural saturation. It felt quite depressing and melancholic to perceive, so I wasn't excited to start noticing. When I got to my usual seating, I started to listen rather than look in response to the gray atmosphere. As my eyes were closed, my other senses went into overdrive, I felt the breeze coldly shove my shoulder, and I heard a cacophony of different noises from nature. As this sensory overload occurred in my ears, I slowly started to notice a pattern, a melodic one. The crickets chirping, the birds singing, the people walking by, all had a rhythm. A cricket chirped, I counted, the chirp ended on the second count. The chirps continued on, some beats were off, reminiscent of an unkempt metronome. Its only natural the cricket could not keep time to the degree of a machine, but it could maintain rhythm better than the average guitarist. The bird's melody, every interval of its song, followed the framework for a classical piece, filled with bars, notes, and time signatures. The various people passing through all walked in step of their own internal metronomes, set to different tempos. My fingers tapping, my breathing, my heartbeat are all rhythmic in nature. Maybe, the very Earth itself was pulsing in rhythm. I opened my eyes, the various sounds once again became white noise.

The article attached is one I read through after I came back to my dorm. It expands upon the connection between rhythm and the world.

https://thereader.mitpress.mit.edu/the-extraordinary-ways-rhythm-shapes-our-lives/