Laura Living Kinda Dangerously

I don’t exactly remember when I stopped enjoying closely interacting with nature, but it has to have been in the last 20 years or so. I love nature because it is proof of God’s existence, but I really, really, really have not enjoyed getting my hands dirty. Why? Let’s examine.

The Fear Factor

I don’t think that it is really nature or the outdoors, but the critters that can hurt me while in nature. Ticks are a concern because of the Lime Disease, which naturally, I would totally get. The other insects that could attack me—the ones with stingers and fangs—clearly would put out a hit on me. Let’s not for forget the bears, snakes, coyotes, wolves, bats, etc. that would come out of the trees to eat me. Writing this down, I recognize that these are, in fact, not rational fears.

Heat is another factor, as quite simply, there is no AC in nature, and I don’t love my hair getting messed up or sweat happening to me against my will.

And finally, there are the poison ivy and oak. I have seen too many people suffer from that—even if they didn’t touch anything—so clearly, I am a prime target for their toxic tendrils.

What’s the worst that could happen?

While this could be far fetched, I could be chased around the woods like in The Blair Witch Project. (I only watched the previews, and that gave me nightmares.) More realistically, duh, I could be eaten or killed by something. And then my kid wouldn’t have a mom, and if I survived, I would be itching from being covered by oak and ivy blisters.

The anxiety level

If this were by myself, 10, but with friends, a 5.

The experiences

While visiting Tallahassee this week, I dipped my toe into some scary nature under the tutelage and protection of my dear, nurturing friend, Ellee and her partner, Dan.

The first thing we did was take a walk in the forest at night. (Well, it is a baby forest, but a forest, nonetheless.) I put on long socks to protect myself from the ticks, and walking hand-in-hand with my friend, I stepped into the dark woods—without a flashlight—only the lightning bugs guiding the way. I absorbed the sounds of the barn owls hooting their calls and responding back to Ellee as she engaged them in a dialogue. I saw bats flying out of the treetops, the moon framing their dark silhouettes—kinda reminding me of the Looney Tunes depiction of bats of I watched as a child.

We walked unbothered through nature, and I came out alive. I hear there are beavers in this forest, so we will go back tonight.

Today, I spent several hours outside lying under a canopy of trees on pallet of mats at Ellee’s school, watching children play outside with zero hesitation or fear. I remember being like that. What on earth happened? When a hairy caterpillar crawled on me, instead of flicking it off, I let it crawl on me for several minutes, and tears flooded my eyes as I realized that I didn’t feel anything but a tickle of a curious little being just crawling, being a caterpillar, harboring no ill will against me. Why have I let fear from something so little engage my entire nervous system?

Later, we went and fed ducks at a lake, and I let them come near me. That wasn’t bad though.

Analysis

My anxiety on the walk was only a 1, and while I definitely got to a 3 on the caterpillar, it dropped to a 1. I promised that I would record my honest feelings, and right now, I feel so silly and kinda ashamed to have robbed myself of simple experiences that could have ignited my curiosity about the natural world right underneath my finger tips.

This makes me sad.

PS

I was pretty stinky after being outside all day; maybe this has contributed to my aversion. 😩