Saving Nature, NATURally.

The words thrilling, magical, and enchanting immediately connote positive thoughts. Some may find it ironic, then, that the first memory that came to mind when reading this prompt was a potentially near-death experience I experienced in my childhood. Despite the rather long-term relationship with nature that a plethora of family excursions and a father that had a mild obsession with insects provided me with, my mind kept wandering back to this one memory. Upon deeper contemplation, though, this seemingly unsuitable memory began to make sense. Sure, given freedom of word choice, the words I would have selected to accompany a retelling of this experience would have been more along the lines of terrifying, risky, and utterly disenchanting. In context of the thrilling/magical/enchanting word framework, though, it became apparent why my subconscious was so adamant on reliving this memory. It was, indeed, thrilling magical AND enchanting. Before anyone reading this starts casting me as a self-loather, I guess I should share the actual experience.
I was about 8 years old, on a family trip to New Hampshire. I can’t exactly recall what time of year it was, but it was a beautiful day in the hybrid fall-spring sense, where the weather is only made better by the knowledge that it should not be nearly as nice as it is given the time of year. I went with my father and sister to a river in the area. The overall area was a magnificent showing of nature. There were woods and lots of open space, all set to the unique tune of a gargling body of water. In fact, the river was characterized by certain sections of rapidly flowing water, and was shallow enough to have rocks protruding out of the water as far as the eye could see. Taking advantage of the beautiful weather, we climbed on the rocks, hopping from one to another so as to avoid the vibrant but too-cold water below us. I distinctly remember my older sister repeatedly warning me to stay away from the edge of the rocks, where the water had turned the semi-submersed portions of the rocks into slippery rims. Of course this only heightened the temptation to go closer and closer to the edges. Intending to only marginally defy my sister’s authority, I put my foot close enough to the edge of the rock to seem daring, but what I thought was far enough away to avoid actually slipping in. I was wrong.
While my memory of almost every other aspect of the day is fuzzy, I remember this part is if it had happened a mere hour ago. I can still vividly recall slipping into the river and immediately being sucked through the rapids. I remember the discomfort of the rush of water up my nostrils, managing to lift my head out from under the water only just in time to see the rock my head was about to crash into if I didn’t duck back down. Barely able to breathe, I gave up on the losing battle of trying to counter the force of a rapid river. My father immediately jumped in after me, and I can still recall cringing in the aftermath at his bloody back that had been scraped against a rock during his descent. I later found out that the river rapids I so graciously got to take a ride in led right to a waterfall. I now realize the event seems so magnificent, rather than traumatic as it perhaps should, due to just how human this "non-human" world was. I think the experience coincided with my realization of the power of nature. There I was, defying nature by testing how formidable an opponent I was against it. In a true engagement (perhaps too much of an engagement) with nature, I was made painfully aware of the answer. Not only was I not a opponent of any sorts, I was a tiny spec in its grand scheme, lucky enough to be enjoying its resources. The experience was thrilling in a way that is largely reliant on the fact that I made it out with no real consequences. It was magical and enchanting in the realizations it provided me with, and the profundity in how effortlessly it had overpowered me-- both physically and mentally.
My perhaps overly stream of consciousness recollection of my experience is actually relevant to the question of whether or not saving nature is something we should concern ourselves with. The only answer I can fathom is actually a question: how could it not be? To me, this question is as intrinsic as asking whether or not saving ourselves is something we should concern ourselves with. Essentially, that is what we accomplish in saving nature. We are unquestionably reliant--maybe even contingent--upon nature. As I noted earlier, nature is this huge force in which we are fortunate enough to be players in. This question is highly representative of exactly why we should concern ourselves with nature. It is so much a part of us, our past, our make up that we can unanimously recall a variety of instances in which our interaction with our natural environment has been profound. Clearly, nature is an integral part of our lives. Often, we lose sight of this because of cities and ever-increasing technology. However, we must not be fooled-- we rely on nature in a multitude of ways; ways we often cannot even detect. For ourselves, for future generations, even for animals that are even more reliant on nature but have no say in it, we must make saving nature not just a concern, but a priority.