It seems that technology, perhaps more than anything, creates issues of scale… Global supply chains and communication networks and flight paths are causing our definitions of “neighbor” to flex to meet the reality of real-time, world-wide interactions.  I can talk to someone across the world, instantly. Hell, I can get nearly anywhere on this planet in 24-48 hours. Anywhere. Not to mention the fact that this computer that I am typing on is built with components that were manufactured all over the globe. Notwithstanding all of the political and economic ramifications of this connectivity, there is something, on a very personal level, that is both extremely compelling and incredibly unsettling about the realities of this world and they way that community and communication are constantly undergoing some sort of redefinition.

Earlier this summer I had the opportunity to spend some time with some friends up in the mountains in Colorado. This was a for real, carry-every-thing-on-your-back, hope-you-know-how-to-read-a-map, sleep in a tent, multi-mile per day hiking trip. We had a couple of guides and a map and some food. Well, one day we were out walking and it started to snow and then rain and then sleet. We were up walking along this ridge overlooking a large, snaking river. it was cold and it was wet and our rain jackets were, at best, merely taking the edge off. It got pretty intense and everyone scrambled for cover. I found an enormous fir tree on the ridge and ditched my pack and wedged myself up in the branches, pulling them around me for more shelter. The wind was whipping around us and everyone was just quiet as we looked out over the ridge…snow and sleet and rain moving silently in waves across the valley below. It was a stunning moment. Beautiful and still. I can tell you when you are wedged up in the lower branches of a thirty foot tall tree, when you are barely able to keep dry, when you are at the mercy of elemental things that are so far beyond your control that it is humorous…well, let’s just say your sense of scale begins to correct itself.  You begin to recognize that perhaps you occupy a smaller space in this world than we occasionally believe when we are back in our managed, manicured, wired little worlds…

Basically it comes down to this: when technology makes it so that we can long before we know if we should, I believe it will be increasingly important to make time for ourselves to step back and reflect. Make space to correct the issues of scale, make time to engage in some kind of analog, local interactions… Interactions where our “neighbor” really is in fact, our neighbor.

I don’t know, maybe we should just make some time to go outside. There is something very right-feeling about spending time outdoors.

I don’t mean to sound like and old man, but I seem to be having versions of this “ambient awareness”/”information overload” conversation with lots of my friends right now…

So, that said, here is a short film and a few images about a long walk in the woods…

Go Outside… from Ryan Booth on Vimeo.

So here is to making some space, right where we are now.  Maybe we could stop what we are doing and just go outside.

PS: I hesitated to bring my camera on this trip. So, I made a deal with myself that the very first time that I became obsessed with “missing a shot,” the first time that I disengaged with the people around me to make a photograph, that I would put the camera  in my bag for the rest of the trip. Thankfully that never came close to happening.

What do you think? Send me an email at ryanwrites[at]gmail[dot]com or just click here