Finding Nature in Nashville

Sitting on the ground, I remember a forgotten part of myself. I kick off my shoes. Feeling the cool dirt underfoot reminds me to notice my environment. The familiar tactile connection with the Earth spreads through my body.

The grass tickles my legs and I absent-mindedly brush at imaginary bugs crawling there.

The crisp smell of Fall comes in bursts as the first colorful fallen leaves break in my hand. I peel them from their stems to leave a skeleton—looking like the trees themselves will in just a month or so.

Birds soar above me. Turkey vultures and hawks fly alone, searching for their next meal. Crows fly in and out of the church tower in flocks, swooping around in unison.

If it weren’t for the noise of cars in the distance, students hurrying to class and a helicopter overhead, I could be in my own backyard.

This week I forgot that stopping to smell the flowers keeps me alive. I let academic stresses drag me down into the depths of homesickness, ignoring the natural beauty on campus. Sitting here on one of the many green quad spaces, I remember that the natural world is a key part of what grounds me when I am home. In the idyllic woods surrounding my house, I can always find a spot to stop and think: to ground myself.

There is one particular rock on the edge of the rolling field behind my house where I have often sat to do just that. Bear Mountain slopes away from this spot, with the Northfield /Erving ridge facing it. The power of sitting above a valley, above an entire community, puts my small existence—with its minute problems—into a broad perspective. I am in awe of the expanse of the hills of Massachusetts, and of the human species.

Now in Nashville, I must find my rock.

Perhaps I can find it on Percy Priest Lake, where the Vanderbilt Rowing team practices. The water  itself expresses a plethora of natural emotions,  rough  out in the middle, but calm and still in the cove, disturbed only by the  the bow of the boat slicing through its glassy surface. The expanse of water could certainly serve as a reminder of my place in the world.

If not on the lake, I could walk across West End Avenue and find my rock in Centennial Park, maybe by the pond or the Parthenon. The immense steps and pillars of the Parthenon remind me that we are but a small fraction of the scheme of human history—a tiny step in the process held up by massive pillars of our forefathers and mothers.

In the moments when I simply do not have time to cross the street or am too busy during rowing practice to ground myself, I must remember the natural beauty that is right here on this campus. It is an arboretum for goodness sakes! On my hurried walk to my 8:10 AM class every Tuesday and Thursday, I cannot help but smile as I pass the familiar Sugar Maple that makes the iconic New England maple syrup possible. It is a little piece of home right here at Vanderbilt.

Sitting on the grass watching the birds fly about with purpose, stopping momentarily to rest on church steeples, roof peaks or in trees, I know I must take a lesson from them. As I face the increasing stresses of the world of academia, I must live with purpose and incorporate the necessary grounding breathers. When I consider my options, I definitely have plenty opportunities!

This is the beauty of a sprawl city—natural beauty can be found everywhere around the urban infrastructure. Cheers to natural beauty everywhere!

Pure, Sweet Water?

Water is the source of life. According to www.nashville.gov, our life source (drinking water) is drawn from the Cumberland River.

The Cumberland runs right through Nashville, through urban areas, farm land and homeless camps. There could be anything in that water before it is purified.

Lucky for us water snobs, the Tennessee Department of Environment and Conservation provides a relatively comprehensive report on water processing. At the water’s first stop, large objects (like sticks, leaves and toaster ovens) are removed. Then coagulants are added to the water. When these chemicals are removed, they pull large particles (like dirt and algae) along with them. When the water is sent along to “settling tanks,” more large particles fall out of the water before it passes through filters to become “crystal clear.”

Finally, before the water is sent along to homes and businesses, a little chlorine and fluoride is added. The report says these chemicals are to prevent bacteria growth and promote tooth strength. At home, we add no chlorine or fluoride to our well water, and my dental concerns are only from my own inability to remember to floss. Chlorine is my bigger concern, however.

The amount of effort put into this purification process fascinates me. The water that fueled my every growth spurt was naturally “crystal clear” and made my body feel clean.

When my parents built my home, they did not have to look far for a gushing, pure spring. If you walk a little way west of my house, down a laurel lined path, you will come to a damp, moss covered spot. Here is where my parents drilled a well and installed a pump system into the house. Even during the driest summers, we have never run out of water. The water has a taste to it that is so pure, it is almost sweet.

Besides the installment of this spring well and electrical pump system, our to-die-for drinking water takes little effort. There are no toaster ovens or sticks to pull from this water source.

Coming to Nashville, I knew the water would not be on the same level as the pure mountain spring water that was my life source. However, I did not expect to drink a pool every time I came to a water fountain. The amount of chlorine shocked me and made me wonder what in the original water required such harsh treatment.

When I felt my energy level draining and dehydration taking over, I realized I had been avoiding drinking this pool water at all costs. In order to maintain the water content my body required, I bought a tray of plastic, disposable water bottles. My environmentally conscious parents would not be proud, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do to stay hydrated. I’ll buy a water purifier soon.

So back to the chlorine.

This use of chlorine overlooks the existence of positive bacteria. There are natural levels of bacteria in our bodies that aid digestion, like acidophilus which helps break down food in the gut. Chlorine is added to water to kill the harmful bacteria in the water, but when it passes through our bodies it is indiscriminate in its bacteria killing spree. Perhaps this is why the Environmental Protection Agency reports that too much chlorine in drinking water can cause stomach pain, as our bodies likely have to work harder to digest our food with fewer positive bacteria.

What are even more concerning are the chemical reactions that occur when chlorine is added to the water. When the chlorine meets certain organic matter, it forms compounds called trihalomethanes (THMs), among others. These byproducts of the disinfection process include known carcinogens, like chloroform.

Now imagine standing in your daily shower. The hot water is running down your skin, and you can feel the steam in your nostrils. You take a nice, deep breath. Ahhh. You are clean. But as Chris Kresser writes in his article “Is your daily shower making you sick?” you could be breathing in carcinogens or other toxic disinfection byproducts in the steam, and soaking them up through your skin. My showers have been less relaxing since reading this disturbing news.

The EPA lists bromate, chlorite, halo acetic acids and THMs as byproducts that can cause cancer, anemia, central nervous system problems or liver and kidney problems. Kresser adds asthma to the list, and a comment on the article by “kateryna” detailed her daily near-death experiences from serious shower-induced asthma attacks. She said filtering her shower water saved her life.

So while chlorine and other disinfectants reduce the pathogenic bacteria in our drinking water, can we rely on tap water for our health? Many of the articles I read suggested filtering both drinking water and shower/bath water. Unfortunately for me, it is not feasible to filter my shower water without a petition to campus maintenance. Perhaps it is something to look into.

Now, why am I drinking and showing in a pool? The water quality of the Cumberland River must be bad.

According to the Drinking WaterScorecard for Nashville, the turbidity of the water was above EPA standards in 2005. This means that the sediment in the water was too much for the filtering process to work effectively. The research further explains that this could signal high levels of microorganisms, including parasites, viruses and bacteria.

So, Nashville water treatment operations are combating the turbidity with high levels of chlorine. The scorecard lists Nashville water as having high chlorine content (bordering on the EPA maximum) and a high level of halo acetic acids, a carcinogenic byproduct of the disinfecting process that I mentioned earlier.

Compare the turbidity of Nashville water to that of Austin, Texas, and you see a dramatic difference. Austin was named the city with second best drinking water by Forbes in 2008. While Austin’s water has moderately high chlorine content, its halo acetic acid content is much lower, suggesting a connection between turbidity and halo acetic acid and other carcinogenic byproducts of disinfection. It seems there is a connection between the number of sticks, toaster ovens and other large particles clouding up the water and the toxic byproducts the cleaning process creates.

Although I knew Nashville water would not be up to par with my pure, sweet life source, I had no idea I would be discussing dramatic chemical reactions in the cleaning process. It has shocked me how much water must go through before it makes it safely to my mouth and stomach. Water—the most basic element of life on Earth—has become something that must be transformed before our bodies can accept it.

Opening Salvo: My Reverse-Walden

What do you get when you cross a wood nymph with a southern belle?

What happens when you take a girl from a rural homestead in New England, and drop her into a southern city, the capital of country? I happen. 
The late-night lights from Nashville’s honky tonk bars and strip clubs immediately blinded me in the jump from quiet, pristine forest life into the sprawl city famous for its music. But it is here that I will find myself.

Yes, I am a wood nymph. Not in the ordinary sense of a fairy creature, but in my roots. I have a scar on my right middle finger from a fern accident. Yes, that’s right; a fern hurt me. Around the age of 5, I discovered the joy of picking and plucking the delicate ferns in the woods around my house. They were soft and fun to play with. Unfortunately, I didn’t understand that wood ferns (they’re a darker green) had thick stems. When I couldn’t break the stem, I simply said “Help me!” and my grandfather absent-mindedly picked me up, not noticing my little fist clutching the fern. Since then, I have learned a lot more about the flora and fauna surrounding my home.

You see, I live on a discontinued dirt road, in the middle of hundreds of acres of woods, with no neighbors. My parents and I maintain the mile-long road, chop down trees to heat the house and cook our meals, and wash dishes by hand. During the summer, we feast off fresh garden produce, picked just moments earlier from our two huge gardens. There is nothing like the lush green of the vegetable plants in June. Between wood splitting, garden chores, potholes in the road, a field that always needs mowing and the dishes, there is always work to be done. At night, we listen to the coyotes howl.

My parents also decided not to have T.V., which made conversations about last night’s episode of American Idol off-limits for me. When I was 4, I was still attached to my bottle. I used it as leverage to get a Barbie. A week later I tried to trade back Barbie for my bottle. Barbie wasn’t as tasty. I was a 90s kid, but I never had a Ferbie. Following the latest fad in toys just wasn't my parent's style. Instead, I wandered barefoot in my yard and helped Mom pull potatoes from the dark, cool dirt. When I learned to read, I would lie  in a hammock for hours, my nose buried in a book.

So now at the tender age of 19, I am thrust into the florescent glare of city life, the constant hum of energy. There is never a silent moment, never complete darkness. I can’t walk from point A to point B without seeing people. Roads and parking lots are full of cars, and large highways surround and encroach on the city. I can’t even escape from the constant activity on J. Percy Priest Lake, where I practice as a coxswain on the Vanderbilt rowing team. There is always a plane on the horizon, or a speedboat bearing down on the shell.

One drink from the water fountain in my dorm, and I know I’m not in Massachusetts anymore (and Toto is nowhere to be found). Bleh! Who wants to drink chlorine? Even worse for me, I struggle to find good vegetarian food among the sea of beef and fried chicken. My mother had to chase me around with a spoon to get me to eat as a toddler, and my pickiness still hasn’t worn off. Easy-mac has become a staple.

On the bright side, everyone is friendly. The ladies that swipe my card in the dining hall always genuinely ask how my day is going. My fear was that this southern hospitality was a façade over a vague hierarchy and system of judgment. Thus far, these small interactions feel real.

This blog will be my exploration of my identity, as I move from Thoreau’s Walden Pond to mainstream, neon, flashy America. Yet as I search for understanding in these two worlds, I will learn to understand my generation. This is the generation of instant gratification, of “I liked it before it was cool” and of constant technology. And of course, it all began with Ferbie.

If this is the America we live in, what will our future look like? As somewhat of an outsider, I will immerse myself in this fast-paced world to find both where I fit into it and where my generation fits into the grand scheme of the future (if there even is such a thing).

What I’ll give you here will be my reverse-Walden, and I hope to find something more beautiful and precious than Thoreau.