In Maçka Demokrasi Parkı, near Taksim Square in Istanbul. I am walking along a small path between the trees. At dusk, the Bosphorus sparkles faintly beyond the grove. Stepping slightly away from the commute bustle, I pause. At that moment, a gust of wind shakes the leaves and caresses my hair.
“The earth can exist without us, but we cannot exist without the earth. We are the ones who will disappear first.” —Amina J. Mohammed
Turning the Everyday into Gold
Blown by that wind, I simply listened to the breath of the trees. The soft sensation of the soil beneath my feet. The wind that touches my skin and the wind that shakes the leaves are surely the same. The air I inhale might be what this tree just exhaled.
As I thought this, I was enveloped in a strange sensation. The forest’s air entered my body, and my body’s moisture seemed to return to this soil. The boundary that is “me” softly dissolved, blending with the trees, soil, and wind here—a pleasant, physical experience.
These trees will continue to quietly breathe here, even without me. But I cannot even breathe right now without this place’s air, water, or warmth.
It is a transparent, certain feeling—of being embraced and given life by this vast nature. From this perspective, the small tiredness of your daily life might be merely a lovely, fleeting shimmer.
