When I was a senior in high school, I took a class called Ecology. Ecology is the study of biology that focuses on organisms and their relationships with their physical surroundings. Sounds nerdy, huh? Well, SURPRISE--I'm kind of nerdy and I love it.

A major part of your grade in the class is made up from participating in a 4 day camping trip up in the Adirondack Mountains (located in upstate NY). I did not know anyone in my class very well so the idea of being dropped off in the woods with no service, without my best friends, and in the middle of February in upstate NY for 4 days was daunting, to say the least. (I also had never even been camping before so that was good)

Our second night there, our teacher and our other two chaperones lead us on a night hike. We ended up in the middle of a clearing and our teacher told us to spread out on our own and lay down in the snow.

I wandered to the edge of the clearing and laid down in the snow just as I had been instructed to. At first, I was super uncomfortable and awkward. I was really cold and kept thinking I saw things moving in the trees--classic me, I get freaked out so easily. But then I noticed something that made me stop breathing...my breath was the only noise I could hear.

There is this exasperating buzzing in everyday life that comes from the machines around us. Computers, phones, fans, lights, clocks, and any other machine you can possibly think of emitting a white noise that we as humans have become numb to. I hadn't even realized that this noise existed until it was not there.

I laid in that spot staring at the stars, which I had never properly seen before, for such a long time that the group had to come find me. I had been laying there for close to two hours and had no idea.

As we walked back to camp everyone was silent. No one felt the need to speak or to fill the quiet. We each had experienced a revelation within our own.

Ever since that night, I am constantly aware of how healing the world is. We consistently harm the world and yet it consistently heals itself. There is something alluring, something inexplicably graceful, calming and peaceful about the way rain falls, the way that clouds move, tall grass waves, the way that leaves fall and water flows.

The earth is breathing around us every day. Our planet is a constant reminder that so long as we breathe, everything will be alright.

Perhaps I am just a raging hippie or maybe I am simply odd, both of these statements could be and most probably are true. But I need you to promise me this, put your phone away and drive until you find a field next to a country road that is rarely busy and lay down in that field. Allow yourself to breathe and listen. Or even take 15 minutes to watch a sunset from the top of a hill. In the United States, places such as these are not hard to find.

I promise you, you will not be disappointed. The world will welcome you if you take the time to listen.