Walk to the Library Nature Journal

                My mornings start out much the same every day. The phone alarm blares at 6:30, I groggily smash the snooze button about five times, and sleepwalk into the shower, wondering why I set my alarm so early. I never found meditation to be effective but rather another form of solidarity to enhance my own self-awareness. My 675 step walk from Waits Avenue to the Mary Couts Burnett Library sets the tone for the rest of the day.

                As the year closes in on the winter solstice, the mornings are becoming increasingly darker, with the frequency of a moon sighting growing. An iridescent glow rims the horizon, but the aura’s beauty is mitigated by the street lamps’ disseminated photons. Rush hour headlights add to the light pollution while shining on my squinting eyes with each passing car, all with only one passenger. No regard for the current state of the environment. My focus is diverted momentarily from the city in motion to crossing Berry Street safely. My headphones sit tangled in my pocket, listening intently. But to no avail. The cars’ rumble engulfs the sounds of the natural world.

                These morning walks have required me to cypher out the extraneous noise and sharpen my senses to the organic elements fighting for their rightful recognition. In the moments between urban clamor, crickets fill the gap. Lying low in the brush, their stridulations are one of the few panther city-like enactments that continue to persist today.

                By now, half way into my walk, I’ve crossed West Berry Street and am strolling along the sidewalk behind University Strip. As I scan the vicinity attentively, I notice nothing but gray. My feet follow a gray sidewalk. I count 5 gray parking lots with hundreds of gray parking spaces. Gray pebbles occupy the cracks in the pavement. And gray advertisements are stationed in front of the restaurants. Only do I cross eight trees in what must be a 100 yard stretch. For the first time, my notion that TCU is a green campus with abundant vegetation is fractured. There is no conservation here, this architecture sells to incoming students and families. One may argue that the commons provides an outdoor escape, yet when one truly considers it, the perimeter is shaped by three story buildings enclosing the area. This isn’t the only example either. TCU just expanded the academic plaza’s sidewalks and reduced the space for grass. The campus is slowly but surely transforming into a concrete jungle as the board continues to prioritize profits by expanding the student population over the natural brilliance the campus could have.