Senior Editor
Staff

The Inertia

In this day and age, it can be very easy to become disconnected from our natural surroundings. We often live in concrete jungles, surrounded by glass and cement, only punctuated here and there by a decorative, shriveled tree poking its way from the sidewalk, choking on exhaust fumes and desperately wishing it were anywhere but growing from a tiny plot of cigarette-covered dirt.

Though some may enjoy life away from nature, most do not, or at least they enjoy a brief foray into it. That, I suspect, is why things like surfing and snowboarding feel so much better than say, tennis. Without becoming too corny, there is a certain something about surrounding yourself with the great outdoors—it is, after all, where we’re supposed to be. Our never-ending quest for creature comforts, as nice as those comforts are, has stripped us of the ability to remember a time when we lived with nature.

Patagonia’s newest film, Treeline, is a story about trees. It’s about far more than that, as well, but it all starts with a tree. “Follow a group of skiers, snowboarders, scientists, and healers to the birch forests of Japan,” reads the description, “the red cedars of British Columbia and the bristlecones of Nevada, as they explore an ancient story written in rings.”

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