When I was in middle school, I had to take one of those career aptitude surveys. One of the questions, which was the kind you have to evaluate on a scale of strongly disagree to strongly agree, I still wonder about to this day:
When I am walking in nature, I find myself lost in thought.
I am unsure of the meaning and purpose of this question in regard to one’s career aptitude. Does it imply that one is thinking about the natural elements that surround them, or off in a completely different world? Does the act of being thoughtful in nature make one more suited to a particular kind of work? Or does not being distracted by thoughts in nature suggest a better candidate for a type of outdoor career? I mean, how useful is a daydreaming lumberjack anyway? Do the types who contemplate nature become the great poets and philosophers?
I am of the lost-in-thought camp when it comes to being outdoors. Until the rhythm of the hike is well-established, I tend to ponder the types of flora and fauna around me, and then I am eventually set off into the familiar thought loops that typically take over my mind when idle. I privately refer to this state as “my brain on autopilot.” Autopilot mode deals with those classic worries of one’s future, interpersonal conflicts that almost hurt to think about, questions about one’s meaning and the meaning of life in general. I assume that most humans default to this type of thinking in similar natural situations, when falling asleep, on long drives, et cetera. It is not always a productive form of thinking, and may even be classified as ruminating. Spending too much time on autopilot brain can also have a negative effect, so one needs to be careful and intentional about how they are thinking.
At some point in the past year, I began directing these deep worries and questions about the universe to the trees and mycelial network of the forest. I could picture their answers to my fears almost instantly in my mind. They always made perfect sense, usually responding along the lines of reminding me to practice patience, gratitude, and unconditional love. From there, the plan would become clear. Usually the variable holding me back had to do with my personal weaknesses, which the forest reminded me were only distractions in the game of life.
Maybe this wisdom did not come from the trees at all, and was inside of me all along. Or maybe that would be giving myself too much credit, compared to trees that have witnessed countless lifetimes before my existence. I have never been religious, but this is how I have come to view prayer and what it does for people. For me, the only time I can truly think or see clearly is when I am pulled away from any technology or distractions, and am surrounded by the color green as far as I can see.
Years later, I still don’t know what that aptitude test expected from me. But if getting lost in thought among trees is meant to indicate some kind of calling, perhaps mine is simply to listen.