When I was in Korea I used to wait until it was raining out to go hiking. Because most people abhor this kind of weather I would have the whole mountainside to myself. Sometimes I would pause and watch the mist roll in over the town, or use the opportunity to venture well off the usual trails and find places no one else was willing to go.
There’s something remarkably intimate about this experience which is difficult to communicate. It’s as if you’ve seen Nature in a gown she doesn’t wear for strangers, or the World has caught you watching her bathe but is too ebullient to do anything but laugh.
I love technology as much as anyone — I’m writing a whole book about how awesome it is. But sometimes it’s worth leaving the protective cocoons we build and to tune ourselves to the vast heartbeat of the universe; to exist, however briefly, in the manner of our ancestors; to get dirty, to get wet, and to face our gods under an open sky.