Polyland - Topics

A Journey Through Poly Canyon

After hours spent in the halls and classrooms of Cal Poly, a warm day under the sun was beginning to seem luxurious. I was in the mood to lose myself; or, more specifically, escape the stern looks of professors and the piles of un-finished homework that needed to complete. Although I could run throughout Poly Canyon (which is popular among students), I decided to take a walk and absorb the environment, enjoying the beautiful landscape many visitors seem to jog past without a second glance. That choice, I realize, has made all the difference.

Strolling past the Poly Canyon gate, my feet tripped along the dusty path and a sense of relief began to assuage my tense state. The noise from the busy cars and chatting students was fading into a quiet hum that embodies the natural life of Brizziolari Creek, and I, for the first time in a week, felt relief. Birds chirping, lizards scuffling, and gently waving leaves ushered in the sight and sounds of the natural safe-haven. My mind began to wander as I made my way down the path. The fallen leaves crackle under my feet and I noticed, to my delight, that they had become a ground canvas of faded yellow and green. As I was walking and studying the path, I became enwrapped in the shade of an Arroyo Willow. Looking up into the canopy of leaves, I began to think of the trees and the land. I quirkily thought that perhaps every leaf of a tree is a fallen part that is not lost, but given to the earth, adding to the layers of rock, dust, sediment, etc. that creates the basis for the land. I then began to ponder the strength between nature and humanity. I wonder, is every action we commit, as an individual, lost? Or, are we, like the trees, giving our leaves in the form of good deeds, tears, and actions to the makings of mankind? Is this all a part of the life cycle?

A tall, sturdy looking California Bay Laurel loomed into view, reorienting me to the time and place. I awoke from my contemplative state and skipped down the path, in search of everything but company. This truly was a “delicious solitude.” The tree leaves surrounding me had taken on a more glossy appearance, helping to combat the excess sunlight. It seems as though the eager spring sun had peaked through the gloomy clouds of winter with a bit too much force for the strength of the woodland. Laughingly, I thought that I, like the tree, had taken on a more “glossy appearance” after the winter season’s troubles had impacted my state. Every human is susceptible to too much pain, and humans, like the trees, react to debilitating emotions with a defensive cover. Of course, after three to four months a tree will lose the highly glossy cover, and I, like the tree, will forget my troubles and return back to my standard shade of green.

Suddenly, the sound of squeaking wheels interrupts my train of thought. A mountain biker nods hello and continues his rocky adventure into the canyon. I pity the man or woman that can ride past this area of Riparian woodland and flowers without a second thought concerning its beauty. Moving on, I began to tiptoe down the creek path, hoping not disturb any of the natural setting with my presence. Overcome with glee, I excitedly splash in the creek, and the water, rippling with my movement, began to bring life to the surface. I spotted tadpoles and fish scurrying to hide their existence, water slugs and insects in uproar, and broken reeds floating to the surface and traveling lazily down the stream. A Bullfrog sits arrogantly by the creek bed, and in silence watches my antics, viewing me without a worry of danger. He must know that I am a foreigner in this native, natural land. Ignoring the frog’s conceit, I struggle to spot a Rainbow Trout or perhaps a slimy, slippery Monterey salamander, whose reddish-brown back blends into the swirling creek colors of blues, browns, greens, and reds. Rather than discovering an amphibian, a high pitched whistle catches my attention and the unmistakable coat of the Lesser Goldfinch swoops throughout the tree tops. It seems as though I have yet another addition to my creek bed audience. His yellow belly reflects the sun as he sits perched on a branch, singing to me the sweet, but mournful songs that protect his territorial boundaries.
Without warning, I have yet another epiphany. I realize that we, as humans, are never alone. Among the city lights, billboards, and street corners, hundreds of men, women and children search to find themselves, lost in the sea of everything we are: humanity. We attempt to escape from the big city with solitude, meditating on the beauty of nature and breathing a sigh of relief as we enter, alone, into a natural area. Yet, we are not alone. There are thousands of working organisms and species in this environment, having coats of scales, fur, skin and feathers. Nature is just as complex and busy as humanity, working to perpetuate the eternal working cycle of life. The Bullfrog will soon devour an insect, embodying one of the levels of the food chain. The Rainbow Trout will soon multiply, adding diversity to the beauty of Brizziolari Creek. It saddens me to think that we arrogantly tear down nature’s busy surroundings, holding our superiority and necessary urban life above it all. I bitterly laugh thinking that our polluted, artificially produced surroundings are thought of as complex. If our environment is superior, why are we unable to figure out all the workings of nature? Why can humans, who are logically superior to animals, have trouble understanding all the scientific laws?

Despite my irritation with mankind, I breathed deeply and felt, with much happiness, that I love my life, my living, and everything that we have in this world. I love the brilliance of colors, the shimmering of waters, and the sound of earth. Despite our concrete jungles and social standards, I knew, then, that I have a place to escape. I said farewell to the Western Toad, Rainbow Trout, Lesser Goldfinch, and Salamander, listening intently and knowing that although silence prevailed, I could have sworn I heard “goodbye” in return.