Mount Arthur, a secluded spot in northern Tasmania, offers a profound sense of peace that the author finds increasingly essential. The mountain, near the town of Lilydale, is described as a place where fields undulate gracefully and birds gather at twilight, with fog rolling off the hills. The author notes the privilege of being stared at by sheep, which convey a message of humility.
The author reflects on a past preference for urban life, citing poet Frank O'Hara's sentiment that one need never leave New York for greenery. However, this view has changed thoroughly, and the author now feels that modern urban life is a machine geared towards destruction and distraction. Escaping to nature, particularly Mount Arthur, feels more real than city existence.
The effect of nature is described as rousing rather than sleepy. The author and their partner felt quickened into life during a recent trip. Such places expel the unreality generated by office work and make the cruelty of politicians and corporations impossible to ignore. In Tasmania, as in the rest of Australia, power has been handed to corporations intent on creating a lonely, man-made world.
In places like Mount Arthur, the true sort of quiet soaks into the skin, making it clear that all life happens in wide open spaces. The author argues that the real extremist position is the one that convinces us modern urban life nourishes us. The digital world, with its horrors like Microsoft Teams and Instagram reels, does not exist meaningfully. Trapped in this ersatz world, a news story about a mine expansion might seem sad but not an urgent crime.
The author concludes that immersing in nature is not ducking out of real life. On a quiet morning, with clouds breaking over the mountains, everything else feels fake. What exists are the trees, birdsong, and the next clean breath.
