It may seem a little odd to you that I feel such a closeness with the countryside. I mean, at the most basic level, I’m probably one of the biggest suburbanites on the planet. Aside from the years I lived in Calgary, I’ve never really lived in the city. I only ever even spent a couple of years living on the acreage with my mom and stepdad.
So it can’t just be me.
Herr Prof. Dr. discussed the idea in his lecture that in the American psyche, there is something virginal, untouched and innocent about the country, and that people (read: European settlers) have ruined it by the construction of cities and industry.
It’s hard to put it into words – there’s something deeply relaxing about the country. I guess a lot of it is media-induced by, for example, the freedom felt by the road trip or the idea of wide, open land. There’s a sense, when you’re out in the country, that you exist outside of time.
The aloneness of the country bothers a lot of people I know, but it’s precisely why I like it. I know, for example, that there are plenty of people all wandering around the country thinking they’re alone (and, for that reason, are precisely the opposite), but the feeling is always there. The feeling that it’s just you, big open land, and big open sky. It’s free-feeling, really.
Granted, there are downsides to the country. Like the fact coyotes want to eat my dog. Or how much money you spend on gas/car repairs due to your commute. Or situations like the time I was at my mom’s acreage when I first moved there, and some random dude came to the door. He banged on the door, and then started banging on all the windows, yelling for me to come out. What the fuck are you supposed to do? The house has no fucking blinds – because, after all, you’re alone out in the country and there’s nobody to peer in your windows – so there’s nowhere to hide. I assume he wanted something to do with the old owners. But, seriously, what would I have done if he actually broke in?
Nothing, that’s what.
I don’t know, though. There are no words for me to describe how I felt when I first moved out there when I was eighteen. I felt like I was going back to a simpler time. No internet, no cell phone reception – just peace and quiet. Just birds chirping, coyotes howling.
And the stars. When the sky is clear there, the night sky is almost white. Or the northern lights dance across the sky.
Aside from the fact you’ve got modern amenities like running water (granted, it has to be trucked in) or electricity (okay, that doesn’t have to be trucked in), you really feel like you step back in time a few decades and can just be with yourself. It wasn’t until I moved there I realized how peaceful it can be to just be somewhere by yourself in silence.
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