To survive, humans require very little. Food to sustain, water to hydrate, and shelter to stay safe from things that could cause harm. In modern day life, it becomes a lot more complicated.  But do humans simply want to survive? Is that what separates us from the rest of the animal world? Is our drive to experience beyond survival what disembroils us from our cousins in the kingdom Animalia? I cannot peer into the mind of that Bluebird perched on my feeder or the clam that comes up in my rake, and neither can you, so we will never truly know the answers to these questions. But it does allow us the ability to explore our own need to experience. Simply surviving on basic necessities is boring. This thrill of living can be achieved in many ways, but the simplest and most accessible is through nature. Many people think you need to search far and wide to find such rousing places, but truth of the matter, it can be found anywhere. I found it in my hometown of Block Island, RI. Quiet, classic New England, with the quirkiest people. But it is not the people who get me excited, no, it is the island itself. The winding trails, the towering trees, the magnificent beaches, with enough ponds for each day of the year.  

I enjoy my time being home on the Island so much during the summer that other parts of the year I feel a sense of deep sorrow and longing for my little slice of paradise. The beauty of the place is hard to recreate, it can be, but it is hard. The part I miss the most is the mystery. That cannot be replicated. There is something about the place that keeps me coming back and asking questions. The way the landscape seems to change from one side of the island to another. The endless trails and possibilities. Dotted with greenways, it almost seems an impossible choice to pick one. But there is one I go to pretty regularly. Right across the street from my house and down a dusty dirt road is The Maze, appropriately named. The place seems unassuming enough to start, but you are almost immediately struck by options. Multiple trails branching out, all enticing you to follow. One option will take you to a field of yellow and amber pastels, daffodils blowing in the wind. Another will have you trekking through mud and vines, eventually reaching the sandy shores of an eastern beach. Other greenways will lead you to an interior forest, a winding path overlooking the clayheads, fields, ponds, and all sorts of landscapes. 

Once I came across a part of The Maze that I had never been to before. It was so different from the rest of the trails. The ground was not the compact soil and grass that my bare feet were so accustomed to. It was as if no one had walked there before. The long blades tickled my ankle, and the sprinkle of gravel pierced my soles. Even the trees were different. They were bent, warped, and scraggly. Their branches reached out like arms, grasping for any passersby. The canopy blocked out much of the light, with only a few beams shining through. It seemed to envelope all the sounds around me. I could no longer hear the methodical crashing of the waves, and birds seemed to tacit their singing. What was this other world I had entered? It all seemed so different. All the hustle and bustle of the busy island was gone. I kept walking to see what was ahead, my mind at ease as I took in this new place. The landscape didn’t seem to change, the same ancient trees followed my journey, silently watching me. All of a sudden, I was out of it. I was back to my recognizable world. A stone wall stood in front of me as a comforting friend, as if it were going to guide me home. Sounds started coming back, the wind whistled through the field that was now in front of me. The waves crashed against the cliffs far in the distance. A host of sparrows flitted through the grass, chirping as they went.  

I hung right and kept walking along the wall. In this recognizable place I could zone out and ponder what I just saw. How had I never been there before? Why did it seem so different from the rest of the maze? While I wasn’t paying attention, an animal bound right up to me. “I know you” I thought. It was Wally, my uncle’s golden lab, staring at me with his dopey grin, gesticulating wildly. I followed him for about thirty seconds, and led me right to his house. I had gone from a place of such mystery and unfamiliarity to a place I visited almost daily. It was still early in the morning, so I decided to see if anyone was awake. I walked in with Wally, to find my aunt and uncle sitting at their dining room table, staring out over their view of the island. I didn’t tell them about the landscape I had just visited. I am not sure why I didn’t, and I am not sure why I didn’t turn back to see it again. At that moment I probably wanted to get home, to rest my feet. I have tried to find that place again, failing each time. I yearn to experience that again. I have so many questions that need to be answered. I will continue to wake up early for my hikes in the maze. I wander as if I have no cares in the world. But I do have a care, I want to learn more about that place I saw, I want to experience it again. I want to obtain the unobtainable. I hope to one day find it, but part of me wonders if I should just let it be. Should I just let it be a memory, my emotions macerating in the mystery of the place? It is the mystery that keeps me going back.