My freshman year at San Diego State, I took a sustainable development class and we talked a lot about all the aspects of sustainability. The definition of sustainable is “able to be maintained at a certain rate or level.”
It’s not just recycling and cleaning beaches. It’s not just bringing reusable bags to the grocery store It’s putting the happiness of all beings first in life and respecting their needs, be they environmental, economic, or social. For some reason, the one fact from class that really stuck with me was about the importance of parks in developing new residential areas.
As a die-hard Leslie Knope / Parks and Recreation fan, I am a huge fan of the outdoors, but I never really appreciated neighborhood parks until I came to Rome. I was lucky enough to grow up with a family that has traveled to national parks in the US, and nature is a huge part of my life. Staying in Rome has been a big adjustment for me, because I’ve never felt completely comfortable in big cities for long periods of time.
Luckily, the convent we’re staying in (more on that in another post!) has a huge park behind it. After class ended this morning, I thought I’d take a walk and have some time to myself. The people I am closest to understand that while I am an extremely outgoing person, I definitely need time by myself to recharge. Bringing my camera along, I walked past the cavernous fountain that marks the beginning of the garden. Raindrops so small they stayed on my eyelashes fell from the sky, reminders that a good rain can cleanse you.
As I paused to reflect on my time here, I suddenly felt grateful for all the shades of green around me. Although it sounds cliche, you never know what you have until it’s gone. I needed some green in my life, and it felt to be back in my own little world.
I reached the top of the hilly park and looked back. Olive trees lined the hill, how Rome must have used to look thousands of years ago.
Moss grew on almost every surface, eeking its way into tiny little cracks in the carved stone steps. The wind carried the scent of fresh oranges and jasmine, amplified by the rain.
On my way back down, a playground caught my attention. I could make out a red slide and a see saw skirted by two rows of sycamore trees, the ones whose branches look like a giant sat on them and then let the tree grow up in a little fort around them.
On my way there, I felt my grandpa’s presence. I still remember when he and my grandma used to take me for walks in the woods when I was younger. My grandma is so sharp, she knows all the names of the wildflowers (Latin and English). My grandpa loved to make me smile, so he would follow Grandma and dramatically whisper in my ear “those are little yellow jobs,” and a little louder, “those are little purple jobs.” Sure enough, I looked down and there were little purple jobs.
I started crying in surprise and happiness, so grateful for him coming and saying hello in his own little way. A sudden gust of wind came along to dry my eyes, and I looked up to see a flock of 10 parakeets flocking to the bent sycamore trees. They looked indignantly down on me, squawking until they settled into their places. Their beaks peaked curiously around the branches and their feathers ruffled slightly in the wind.
After my walk today, I reflected on how important nature is in my life and how it grounds me. I decided that 2018 is a year for being sustainable – respecting our own needs, other’s needs, and the earth’s needs. Far too often, we are caught up in living our lives that we don’t take a breath and ask ourselves – what are my needs? what are other’s needs? what are the earth’s needs? and, (most importantly) how am I working towards fulfilling those needs?
This must have been my favorite post so far. It’s so descriptive yet raw and I loved reading every minute of it. It’s weird because I told my mom today that I, too, kind of miss the green. I never thought of San Diego too much a green city, but coming here, the only green we see is the small grown grass between the cobblestones. Anyways, I really loved this post.