Though it is not dusk yet, the somber skies turn my mandala ten shades darker than I’d seen before. I had expected a light shower and was surprised when the sky quickly dimmed and suddenly opened up.

The torrential downpour engulfs me and therefore all I can hear is the rain assaulting every surface I can see and my heart pounding in my chest. An assortment of oak, maple, and willow tree branches dangle in front of me, covering the corridor to my destination; like the “Do Not Enter” signs of a haunted house, I paused to consider if I should continue. A cold shiver crawls up my spine, a response due to the rain and a slight twinge of fear slowly wrapping around my mind, fighting its way into every thought.

I struggle to emerge from the drenched branches but they cling to me as if attempting to take me hostage. I shake the remaining grasps, trying to shake the eerie feeling as well.

Kneeling next to the dam, I am bombarded with raindrops as they pelt the back of my raincoat-covered head and race down my back. Though spooked by the caliginous vibe of the forest, it had at least provided me with a little more shelter from the bomb-like rain. The water drips off the now saturated brim of my hat, as it is the only part peaking out of my raincoat. It has consequently morphed shades: from a washed out blue to a drenched navy. The foreign hue seeps towards my scalp.

The rain entertains me; though so simple, it has the power to bring on much chaos and fear. But to me, it brings clarity and matches my constant clouded state. I gaze toward the abyss above me; tilting my head only slightly to try and get a glimpse of the treacherous sky without letting its dagger-like drops pierce my eyes. The amethyst sky is alive and livid as the clouds thunder through my line of vision.

I tilt my head back further and watch one lone leaf take a dive from the oak branch above. It plummets toward me like a skydiver hurdling from a plane. With a swift breeze tickling the branches and causing the entire tree to shimmy, the lone leaf is soon followed by another, and another, and soon, what seems to be the entire branch, is filling the sky around me. Now not only am I thoroughly soaked to my bones, I am sufficiently sprinkled with leaves.

My mind wanders and I consider if the rain is actually soaking my bones. Can it penetrate my raincoat and my skin like that? Maybe it sort of just seeps in, getting absorbed through many layers of tissue. Thoughts zig and zag, but I catch one contemplating if these drops are pure water. I hold on to this thought, it’s paralyzed inside my head, as I am struck with fear to even consider the possible answers. It has to be, right? It’s from the sky. I’m sitting in the woods; it can’t be that bad, right? I am flooded with feelings of ignorance as I think back to Jenkins’ book, ContamiNation. Everything from our cleaning products to our homes, including our drinking water, is more complex and contaminated than we could ever imagine. He explains the real issue, “…most of the tens of thousand of chemicals that are used commercially have been around for only a few decades, far too short a time for researches to figure out with any certainty what impact they might have on our health” (14). In everything we eat, everything we use, everything we touch, is filled with chemicals that we are completely in the dark about. This makes my stomach turn and I don’t want to believe it.

This is an issue in and of itself but it brings up an even deeper debate for me. What would I rather have, ignorance or frustration and fear? Every time I sit in class or read about and hear about more issues, I have this thought: wouldn’t it be better to sit in the dark, happy as a clam, unaware of the world collapsing around me? But I’m still here, I’m still learning.

Since getting to college, I have had good classes and bad classes, and then I have had classes that drill into to my very core and make me rethink my entire existence. I get extremely frustrated learning about issues around the world, from the ones presented in ContamiNation, to world hunger, to climate change, and I can barely sit still as statistics fill my head. I am first filled with a wave-like surge of desperation, followed by frustration. That lingers for a bit, until I am exploding with passion I can’t stand to sit in the classroom any longer because the thought of letting these tragedies go on for another minute makes my skin crawl. I am torn every day between going to class or joining the Peace Corp, between attending a protest for animal rights or taking an exam, between doing my math homework or traveling the world. Yet, every time I have this contemplation, I remember why I am thinking these thoughts in the first place. There is so much more I have to learn before I can be this caveat for change that I want to be.

I continue to kneel by the water, my face now drenched with a combination of rainwater and tears falling from frustration. How am I supposed to go back into a world where people don’t even understand these issues that cause me such internal conflict? I see my pained expression brokenly reflected in the menacing water. As a tear rolls off my face and slips into the captivating water, almost unnoticed as it vanishes, I wish I could do the same. Maybe then I can shake my clouded mind.