The Journey Begins

Hey there, and welcome to Naturally Observant.

I'm Elizabeth Roop, and I'm a sophomore English and History student whose lifelong dream is to be a writer. Feel free to call me Eliz, Liz, etc.; I'm really not picky about nicknames as long as they're nice. I hope you enjoy reading my posts.

Speaking of posts, by one way or another, you seem to have stumbled across my first attempt at a blog. Blogging is something I've wanted to get into for several years now, but have never quite been able to persuade myself to actually jump in and get started. This blog exists because now I have to write a blog as part of a college class. No better reason to finally do something than that you have to do it to pass a class, am I right?

You might have noticed that my blog has an... "interesting," shall we say, title. I'll tell you now that it's a pun, though you might have already guessed that. I'm big on puns. Puns are great; the best possible way to be equally parts humorous and obnoxious, in my opinion. To get to the point, my blog's title does indeed have a double meaning. You see, in our day and age, we as people (at least in America; it might be different elsewhere, and I certainly don't claim global omniscience) tend to spend more of our time looking at screens than at the sky. The weather is more a source of annoyance than of wonder. When drops of water come, quite literally, falling out of the sky, the biggest reaction any of us offer is a sigh of irritation that we might get wet during our morning commute. Snow is even worse; it piles up everywhere and makes driving (not to mention even walking) dangerous, so who cares about how pretty it makes everything look or how incredible it is to watch it dancing, twirling, swirling gracefully down out of the sky? We tend to be more concerned about whatever new stunt our politicians are pulling than the first flowers of spring blooming or the first trees' leaves budding right outside our windows and windshields. To be fair, all of these reactions are logical: the real world problems housed in our devices are more pressing than the views presented by the sky, getting wet is irritating, driving in snow is stressful, and every new political stunt is rightfully concerning. But when the "real world" (that is, the world of life, relationships, work, politics, finances, really everything outside of nature) is all that we focus on, we lose something, something vital. Humans are natural creatures created to live in a natural world. When we ignore the natural world, we harm our physical and mental health. (Don't believe me? That's fine; take it from the experts. There is bountiful research out there: this article from cultureiQ and this article from the BBC both describe several relevant studies in laymen's terms and link to said studies if you want the scientific details.)

Beyond that, I would argue that when we lose touch with nature, we also lose touch with something visceral and emotionally essential. One need only look to Henry Thoreau, Vincent Van Gogh, Matsuo Bashou, or countless other writers and artists throughout human history and between various cultures to see how nature has always inspired art and emotional reactions in human beings.

It is incredibly difficult to create essays, art, or poems based off of nature when little-to-no contact with nature is occurring among vast parts of our population.

In this day and age, it might be more important than ever to be naturally observant. Yes, we have to spend every moment being aware of our surroundings in the "real world;" that is an important part of leading a healthy and successful life. But just as importantly, we must take the time to observe whatever natural wonders are going on around us, from the beauty of a flower bush, the scent of falling leaves, the sound of rain on the ground, or the feel of snowflakes on our faces. It only takes a moment, and it is extremely beneficial for us, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

This semester, I'll be doing my best to be naturally observant. I challenge you to do the same.