non-fiction

Review: The Nature Fix: Why Nature Makes Us Happier, Healthier, and More Creative

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Holy cow, I knew it had been a while since I had posted a book review, but I didn’t realize it had been since August, you guys. Oops! I guess you can tell I’ve been balancing a bunch of projects lately. Expect to see several posts over the next few days as I catch up!

Finished: 7/10/2019

I checked this book out from the library on a whim, trying to find a book to read that was light, but still interesting. I wanted to find a book I could learn something from. Writing fiction all the time means I sometimes have to be picky with how engrossed I get into fiction books. I’m always afraid I’ll fall into someone else’s story and world and have trouble crawling back out again.

I really enjoyed this book! I learned quite a lot from it and found it inspired me to get outdoors more. Even though it’s a few years old, the examples of lush cities, nature bathing, and using nature to treat PTSD were still just as relevant and eye-opening.

What caused me to knock off a star was the occasional negative tone the book would take. It didn’t happen very often, and for most readers it probably wouldn’t bother them like it did me. However the narrator at times was just so pessimistic and almost insulting occasionally. For someone who was a world traveler I was shocked by some of the phrases that were supposed to be quirky but weren’t.

However if you’re looking for a book to motivate you to head into the forests for a weekend, or want to learn more about how nature influences the mind and body, this is a great read! Just prepare yourself for the few weird anecdotes and occasional tone shifts.

My overall rating: 4/5

Drabble: Hidden between

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Prompt: Hidden between

Hidden between the cracks and crevices, you can just make it out. It won’t stay still and it’s difficult to hold in sight for long, but you feel its presence and you know that it’s watching you. It can see you just as easily as you can see it. You tear the wall apart, dropping the pieces chunk by chunk to the floor, but still it eludes you. The more you excavate, the more it evades.

The wall is gone now, torn to rubble by your hands, by your eagerness and greed. No longer can you feel its presence, its warmth. The answers it once held are lost forever now. Instead of letting it exist just out of your reach, you wanted it for yourself. It had to be yours, didn’t it? You wanted to claim it for your own. You couldn’t leave it alone. Now no one else will ever even see it.

You stare down at your hands, realizing too late your folly. You apologize. You plead. You excuse. You didn’t know the wall was its only home. You didn’t know it would die without it. What a silly creature it must have been, you decide. Perhaps the world is better off without it. Honestly what use could an animal be if all it does is live inside the hidden spaces of the world.

Originally posted on Typetrigger. Fiction in 300 words or less.
Please pardon typos or grammatical errors. See sidebar for copyright information.

Drabble: At the peak

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Prompt: At the peak

At the peak we turn around and stare down into the white valley. At the top of the world, nothing looks real. You don’t feel like you’ve conquered a mountain, instead you glimpse into an alien world. The mountain groans as snow shifts and wind howls, like an old man who has particular distaste for visitors.

You feel uncomfortable in your body and are painfully aware that you don’t belong here. Your breathing is heavy. The air is too thin, a kind way of saying that anything that needs oxygen to survive will have trouble at these heights. Even the birds aren’t foolish enough to fly this high. Your limbs are numb from the cold, and you haven’t slept properly for close to a week.

Here at the top of the world, the highest altitude on the planet, the smallest weakness can lead to death. Never had a heart problem before? The mountain will test that. Think you packed enough provisions? The mountain will test that too. Being physically prepared isn’t just a recommendation, it’s necessary for survival.

After a thirty minute rest, it’s back down again.  Don’t worry, old man mountain, we won’t be long. Let us admire your beauty before we return to our world, the world we tend to take for granted.

Originally posted on Typetrigger. Fiction in 300 words or less.
Please pardon typos or grammatical errors. See sidebar for copyright information.

Drabble: Blah blah blah

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Prompt: Blah blah blah

The words won’t come, but you can’t force them. The keys on the keyboard won’t press themselves any more than sheer concentration will push the ink out of the pen. Words are finicky brats and are quite easily frightened. They bubble up out of an intangible haze, but just as you reach out to them, they go under again.

They must come of their own free will, these fickle words, but it’s up to you to know which ones are worth catching. Wield your net carefully and don’t be afraid to choose the best. Brevity is alright, but it can be quite boring. Verbosity is lovely too, but can lead to much confusion.

If you do have a muse, it’s probably best not to wait around for her. She is easily distracted and quickly loses interest in anything you value. She often whispers of new ideas, new characters, new worlds while you’re waist deep in a completely different project. She sees your schedule as more of a suggestion, and every time you start complaining, she gets bored. After all her job isn’t really to be your muse, she’s really there to be your crutch. She is both a convenient scapegoat and an incomparable genius. Is it any wonder she is so unreliable?

Write garbage, write foolishness, write in a stream of consciousness, write a grocery list, write what you love about your cat, write something you would never show the light of day; just don’t leave a blank page behind. That is the only true rule.

Originally posted on Typetrigger. Fiction in 300 words or less.
Please pardon typos or grammatical errors. See sidebar for copyright information.

Drabble: The waking hour

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Prompt: The waking hour

The waking hour is one of darkness, filled with doubt and fear and uncertainties that are too fragile to see in the light of day. You wake in a whirlwind of confusion from a dream that you hope was mere fantasy. Your mind swirls with dangerous potentials that you try hard not to see too clearly.

10 minutes go by and the night feels like it might last forever. You try to clear your mind. You call upon every breathing and relaxation technique you can think of to make your thoughts a blank slate, but it doesn’t do any good.

30 minutes go by and you wonder whether you should get out of bed, or at least see what time it is. That makes you even more nervous though. If you know the time you’ll know how little you’ve slept. You’ll be trapped in numbers and know without a doubt that you cannot function on two hours of sleep, and then you’ll fall into panic and despair over how broken you are.

After an hour, you realize that it’s pointless trying to sleep any longer. Your eyes are weary and you feel trapped and floating in a timeless limbo. The need for order consumes you. At this point you no longer care about consequences. You grab your clock and squint at the time without your glasses to assist you and frown.

There’s only 5 minutes before your alarm will go off for work. The bubble of timelessness you had been trapped in bursts and the reality of responsibility feels heavy on your shoulders.

A lack of sleep prompts minimal empathy in our society.

Originally posted on Typetrigger. Fiction in 300 words or less.
Please pardon typos or grammatical errors. See sidebar for copyright information.