I sat and watched as her hair blew in the wind. Long, dark, almost black. For a moment, I felt as if I wasn’t human. Sunlight filtered through the yellow aspen leaves, and the forest air was cold with the breeze from the massive lake just beyond the trees.

I was surrounded by beings that could not hide what they truly are. The Oaks can’t convince me that they are Willows; The Woodpecker cannot hoot at me like an Owl. Not even the person before me felt the need to be something she is not.

I had the epiphany on a warm autumn day not long ago. I was sitting on a rock collecting sunlight, and he was handing me pinecones and rocks he found interesting on the hike. I said to him, “I think I understand why I’m so fond of nature. It’s not lying to me. It’s not pretending to be something it’s not.”

It is no great feat to connect with what lies within our souls; we feel it in a moment when we are completely at ease with ourselves. But what are we without the makeup of society, the clothing of modern expectations, and the driving lies lived by those who think they must conform?

Does a maple not shed its leaves every year? Isn’t there a reason we feel so connected to our surroundings, whether it’s the trees, a cactus, or the person you love?

I guess I don’t care what any of that looks like. I’m not here to fit a mold, quack like a duck, stay in line, or lose my soul. Tell that to the forest.