Growing up in the rain shadow of the Cascades in the Pacific Northwest, as an introverted only child, I had a complicated and mostly distant relationship with the natural world around me. I was lucky enough to have an active parent who shared their time and interests, but to say that nature has always been a guiding influence and a part of my life, would probably be disingenuous and a massive overstatement. However, as I’ve grown older, my time spent in the great outdoors has become increasingly invaluable and completely intrinsic to my mental, physical, and creative well-being.
Truth be told, I didn’t actually find my love and forge my connection with nature until after my 30th birthday. In retrospect, this change in trajectory from my younger years was almost certainly born out of desperation and necessity.
In the course of [going outside], and unbeknownst to me at the time, I started writing the story of how I would choose the outdoors and change my life forever.
I found myself struggling through paralyzing anxiety and a particularly long season of life with no real end in sight. I was in an unsupportive relationship with an incompatible partner. I had a job that was tangibly draining the life force from me by the day. I simply possessed no discernible interests or passions that I could lean on as an outlet for these tough times, I was hobbled without a crutch.
Photo by Ryan Field 
Photo by Ryan Field 
Photo by Ryan Field 
Photo by Ryan Field
I always admired those that had their “thing” that they just could not live without, and I was frustrated and fed up with feeling like my “thing” would forever be just out of reach for me. So, one morning, I decided to do something about it: I went outside. In the course of doing this and unbeknownst to me at the time, I started writing the story of how I would choose the outdoors and change my life forever.
As my alarm went off impossibly early, I tossed the covers back and blearily trudged to the shower. I made a thermos full of coffee, grabbed some blankets and a beanie, and hit the highway towards the Three Sisters Wilderness. I had never seen Sparks Lake and honestly cannot say why I decided to take the turnoff that morning.
Photo by Ryan Field 
Photo by Ryan Field
After parking my car and winding my way through the ponderosa pines, I wasn’t entirely sure what I was supposed to be seeing. An incredible inversion had cloaked the entire area in a paint thick fog that reduced visibility to feet instead of miles. Somewhat disappointed but determined to honor the effort, I found some dry ground by the lakes edge and decided to have one cup of coffee.
As I sat in silence and sipped my brew, wrapped in the ethereal frigidity of the fog, I noticed something peculiar and then utterly spectacular began to unfold. It was as if the air around me was beginning to hum and…catch fire? A rich, vibrant spectrum of golden orange and salmon pink hues descended from top down and enveloped me as I sat completely dumbstruck and wide eyed. I was swiping my arms through the air, fingers spread wide, as I vividly remember trying to hold the fleeting rays of the sun in my open palms.
Photo by Ryan Field 
Photo by Ryan Field
As this unbelievable symphony of light continued to swirl and dance around me, the faint outline of the far shore and the sentinel-like surrounding mountains began to crystallize into clear view. I couldn’t help but laugh, a permanently fixed smile with unexpected tears streaming down my cheeks. Was this my stolid present state recognizing the untapped potential and ever-blooming beauty of the future? Had I been mistaking my perceived disinterest for simple disconnection? For what felt like the first time in my entire adult life, the uncompromising grip of anxiety began to relent, and I was able to fill my lungs and relax my racing heart.
A single experience, so rich in the metaphorical and metaphysical senses, at the exact moment that I needed it the most. In my estimation, this was and remains to be, one of the truest superpowers of the natural world. Especially as it relates to me.
Photo by Ryan Field 
Photo by Ryan Field
Since I did not own a camera at this time, I was relegated to telling anyone with ears about the jaw dropping majesty of what I had witnessed that morning in the mountains. Through this act of repetitive storytelling, I began to realize that I wanted to relive this moment in a more meaningful and tangible fashion. So, I did what any rational person would do in this situation: I spent my entire life savings on a camera that I had absolutely no clue how to use.
That ‘thing’. My ‘thing’. Photography. This is how I chose the outdoors and ended up saving my life, one image at a time.
Even though I was an anxious mess at that point in my life, I had always known one very valuable truth about myself: if I cared enough about something, anything, there were no restrictions on my ability to invest every ounce of my being into it. So, I was unsurprised and unconcerned about my hyper impulsive decision to purchase the gear and dive right into the world of landscape photography. To this day, I am still honoring the effort that it took to get me from my bed to the edge of Sparks Lake that unforgettable morning.
A lot has happened between then and now, but I will never forget that one single sunrise and how it became the compass for me to find what I had always been so desperately searching for. What I was so deeply envious of. That “thing”. My “thing”. Photography. This is how I chose the outdoors and ended up saving my life, one image at a time.
