The old man at the Subaru service station reminds me of how I want to exist in the world.

Surrounded by plastic chairs and car parts and keyboard clanging and Men’s Health magazines, he is sitting there, reading a book with yellowed pages and worn edges. He is in this world, and simultaneously completely immersed in his own one. I am anxious, needing to leave the service station with enough time to get to another appointment, looking at my computer. But seeing him to my side settles me. Like I can exist in both places - this fast-paced, car-part world, and the slowed down, here and now. In the last half hour of my waiting I walk into the brambles behind the building that hug along the banks of a gentle stream. There is a subtle path that takes me under the overpass and into the forest where I am surrounded by nothing but trees, just minutes from the service station. I collect fallen pine needles and brambling branches that look like miniature chandeliers and I walk back to pay my bill and get to where I need to go on time. But for those brief moments I am reminded of my own wildness, my own freedom, my own humanness, existing just behind the machine service station.

Letter writing is another way that I love to straddle this line. I could just as easily send a thank you text and cross gratitude off my to-do list, and while I am not above that from time to time, there’s nothing like slowing down and tapping into my heart to share my thanks from a deeper place. Taking the time to make the card, write the message, seal the envelope, take it to the mailbox, and be a part of the whole process. To be reminded of my own wildness, my own freedom, my own humanness, existing just beside text message convenience and email marketing.

This holiday season, when we are surrounded by so much consumerism and Christmas tree lights, I invite you to light a candle. Write a letter. Make your own gift tags out of birch tree bark and attach them to the gifts you ordered on Amazon. Allow yourself to straddle both worlds, embrace the paradox of life, be the old man reading an old book at the service station. And, whenever you can, find five minutes to traipse out in the woods behind your house and be surrounded by trees. I guarantee we will all be better for it.