Yesterday as I walked the streets of the only road in sight, I was mesmerized by the unequivocal beauty in emptiness that filled the horizon. As far as the eye can see pastures with stalky horses and sheep grazed the hillsides, rainclouds sprinkled the landscape and the distant mountains loomed over the Island, their snow covered caps reminding me of the near future of darkness and colder times.
This island has something special. Today we went for a hike on a mountain owned by a nearby farmer and frequently stopped to pick the blueberries and crowberries that cover the ground. I could hear them popping under my feet as we trekked up the side and when we reached the top I felt as though I was staring out onto the surface of the moon. Or mars. Or some other place that seems empty because it isn’t developed into concrete jungles with skyscrapers and shopping malls.
I understand that my view of emptiness is one twisted into believing that anything without human creation is void of worth. For me to look into the abyss and see emptiness is doing a great disservice to the fullness of nature. What I feel I’m doing here with CELL is learning how to view nature and wide open spaces in a new light; rather than seeing “nothing” in the landscape I see primary and secondary succession, lava fields and forests planted for erosion control. I feel the joy in a short rainshower rather than annoyance of the unexpected. I sat by the ocean and touched the newly formed scoria rocks, discovering my need to feel childlike and allowed myself to explore my surroundings and curiosities.
Being here for the past few weeks I already know I’ve begun to see the world with new eyes. Somehow I lost my connection to nature over the years and I feel rejuvenated in the vastness of the land here. The emptiness I once saw is no longer there, in its place is a greater understanding and appreciation for nature and along with it a greater need to protect it.
Sarah Louise Zolondick