The moon was rising like a colossal butter pat melting over the edge of the flat earth stretched out endlessly in all directions. I had never in my life seen this much space before, and it was dizzying; cicadas were buzzing in synchronous throbs and the sun was slanting in backlit oranges and blues over the screaming green cornfields.
The landscape suddenly had a weird and profound impact on me. I was forced, in an almost physical sense, to surrender to it. I suddenly felt aware that I’d given myself a kind of slow-drip, accumulative heavy metal poisoning by pulling too much of my energy from shiny black pants and concrete skyscrapers. The land suddenly rolled up a steel garage door in my soul and threw a beauty bomb into me. It was like an inward-moving tsunami that smashed noiselessly through my skin and owned me in such a way that I felt the shimmering green of the cornfields inside my chest. It was weird and transformative; Iowa was cheerfully absorbing my neurotic urban toxins and giving me a spontaneous color transfusion. It was so generous—this earth, this ravishing abundance of beauty, feeding us, embracing us—that it made me cry like a child.
The enormity of this weird revelation really brought home for me the pointlessness of all the vanities and vexations that take on such ridiculous importance in an urban life. I starting seeing all my sufferings as symptomatic of the sin of forgetting, or never knowing, what it is like to have every part of your vision filled with a wild expanse of growing, green life—and how rhapsodic it feels to be inextricably connected to all that lives and breathes in nature.
They say a tree grows in Brooklyn. After visiting Iowa, I am determined to find it.Cintra Wilson, Fear and Clothing: Unbuckling American Style
How I feel when I get to go home. Thanks Nebraska. Again/Forever. ♥
(Source: sickfuture, via sickfuture)
(Source: aichihuahua)
"I am, somehow, less interested in the weight and convolutions of Einstein’s brain than in the near certainty that people of equal talent have lived and died in cotton fields and sweatshops."- Stephen Jay Gould
"There are moments that cry out to be fulfilled. Like, telling someone you love them. Or giving your money away, all of it. Your heart is beating, isn’t it? You’re not in chains, are you? There is nothing more pathetic than caution when headlong might save a life, even, possibly, your own."- Mary Oliver