Drowning in a Glass Half Empty Essay -- Personal Narrative Hiking Essa

Drowning in a Glass Half Empty tiredly walking into the lobby of my residence hall, a group of my classmates gathered to enter on a pilgrimage through and through Poly Canyon. We meandered over to our rendezvous with our professor on a gravel road sided by a grove of eucalyptus trees rising up like a rib cage. I doubted that this was going to be anything like what Henry David Thoreau intended in his shew Walking, when he described walking as being absolutely impoverished from all bored engagements. If one frees oneself from worldly engagements, one may tour into mindfulness, a state of total awareness of being. We had a guide, we were a class, and we brought with us society. I carried a backpack with pen and paper, a sweatshirt, and cynicism heavier than the indistinctness we drudged through. Campus lodgment structures disappeared behind us, and we were on a road winding around hills. I observed sprinklers watering dead eatage, telephone wires cu tting through trees, and a dumpster full of waste, worsened by a car passing through our ensemble. We had a ways to go before we could get away from civilization. My pessimism deepened as I listened to my classmates chatter in awe about deer on the hillside and heard our professor mention a toxic waste controversy. unity deer stood majestically atop the hill, its dark, shadowy outline nearly sheer(a) in the dense fog, while two others eyed us with less(prenominal) interest than we eyed them. I had seen more deer on a public golf course the day before. One of my classmates began her narrative aloud, adding to the worldly engagements I wished to remove myself from. Moving on, I passed under a gemstone arch onto a trail where I sat and wrote down my thoughts design ... ...each, looking out to sea. Birds chirped, cows mooed, cameras clicked, and an oddly calming and reassuring snow-covered noise of car traffic were all audible. I was alone. In the en d, my cynicism is fog. I couldnt have enjoyed the walk as much as I did without overcoming my negativity moreover, I couldnt have appreciated the beauty of the fog without walking above it, to look upon it in its entirety. I sauntered, walking towards a holy land. I gained mindfulness through looking at the curlicue of milk that was Poly Canyon submerged in fog, focusing on every(prenominal) breath and each step upon ancient rock, feeling the dew from bunch grass cool the pokes of yucca bush, and traveling to a new place in personify and spirit. I undertook a pilgrimage despite fighting it the best I could. Walking gradually beat my cynicism, as the morning sun late withered away the fog.