オスプレーさんのインスタグラム写真 - (オスプレーInstagram)「“Let me ask you something,” one hand resting on the trekking pole that rested on his hip. “Why do you backpack? I mean, who—” he trailed off. — When I first hiked a section of Nüümü Poyo (the “people’s trail” in the Paiute language, also called the John Muir Trail) in 2014, I had just read Wild by Cheryl Strayed. A few years before, I’d read A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson. I’d read John Krakauer’s Into the Wild. I’d read Alfred Lansing’s Endurance. As a kid, I’d read and re-read My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead George. In 2014, these were my teachers: the people who ushered me into an idea of nature that I found both compelling and exclusive. I loved these books, and they confused me. I knew in my body that land and race and politics and nature are all lyrics to the same song, but it felt like every time these writers talked about going outside, they didn’t say boo about how white their version of outside was. — And I return the question to anyone who spends time outside: Who taught you how to be outside? Who teaches you? If your answer is a list of white men or women, know that your understanding of nature is incomplete and impoverished. Read Black, Indigenous, and Asian writers. Support organizations like @indigenouswomenhike , @outdoorafro, @wilddiversity, or @queernature that are working to shift narratives about the outdoors. Go outside, not as an escape from the world and its people, but as a way to connect with all of life more deeply. Click the link in our bio to read Endria's compelling piece about going to nature to be in the world, not escape it. 📷 by: @endriaraa + @narinda___ |#ospreypacks #nature #natureheals」10月21日 5時31分