Finding calm in COVID
By Gladys Delgadillo | Environmental Policy Specialist
For me, COVID-19 has come with a fair share of anxiety. I’m privileged to be able to work from home and be in good health. But as a self-identified “hugger,” the isolation of living alone in times of social distancing and the concern for vulnerable loved ones are poignant challenges. The most powerful solace I’ve found is in Nature, and the trails that run through her.
As an advocate for Nature, I’ve always been a fan. But this coronavirus has led me to fall in love anew.
The less traversed Conservation Collier Preserves offered just the medicine I needed: the ruckus of lizards running from me as I run down the path, the melodies of birds, and the life-reaffirming rush of wind that seems to yell at me as it pushes past, “Wake Up!”
There’s an undeniable sense of freedom in wild as far as the eye can see, a partial moon visible in the day, or the sun setting behind a canopy of trees. There’s adventure in hearing a loud splash ahead, spotting a single unsubmerged eye in the lake, and knowing an alligator saw me coming before I saw him.
On the trails, it’s as if I can feel those who’ve walked this earth before me. Much about Florida has changed, but so much in Nature we’ve been able to hold onto. People, for thousands of years, have seen the cabbage palm, pond cypress, and American beautyberry. As I run past these ancient species, like so many before me, I wonder what these long-gone travelers were running from or running to. The solitude starts to feel less lonely.
My muscles move in rhythmic step, slowly expelling the tense energy they’ve held onto. Perhaps most surprisingly, I find the forest feels like home; like an old friend, even in its mysteriousness. Away from people, judgement, expectation, traffic, and the news, there’s heavenly comfort in being able to be.
When Easter came around, and I couldn’t convince myself that hiding eggs for coworkers was an essential activity, I went to find celebration in Nature. She didn’t disappoint; gifting me with the opportunity to see a family of four bears safely cross the road. The black, fuzzy, creatures followed each other in line and then disappeared into the brush on the other side with impressive skill.
Nature has had my back in lockdown.
In writing this love letter about our preserves, I must admit a selfish reluctance to share my favorite places. It’s been nice to go where imagined 6-foot bubbles don’t exist. An influx of new visitors might rob me of that grace.
The answer, for me, is simple. The answer is more.
Create new preserves, more places of solitude, so more of us can spread out in Nature without interruption. Because even when we’re released from the restrictions of this disease, I don’t want to forget the magic I’ve found on these narrow pathways. There are lots of reasons to support the Conservation Collier referendum in November. But this selfish reason has risen to the top among my own.
