I used to watch films mindlessly.
Once the credits started rolling, I hardly gave the film any further thought.
In recent years, I have taken a more involved interest in the films I watch. I have grown to appreciate films as an artform and an expression of ideas from the director in the same way a book or a poem is.
It is endlessly interesting to enjoy a film and hear about the specific artistic choices the director made in order to ensure the end result manifested his vision.
On example is that of Todd Phillips discussing his film Joker (2019).
Commenting on some of the choices made in building the world around the main character, Phillips notes regarding his decision to ‘fill in’ the skyline with buildings in many shots:
“…I didn’t like the blank space, so [these buildings] back here, that’s all put in because I wanted it to feel really oppressive and Gotham is always ‘over’ Arthur and we just didn’t love any blank spaces in the skyline…” [1]
In practice, this meant any scenes which would normally show the sky between buildings was edited to add ‘fake’ buildings in so that the viewers didn’t see the sky at all.
This intention to induce a crushing feeling by filling the horizon with buildings was a thoughtful touch that added to the overall ominous theme of the film. The city, Gotham, did indeed feel overbearing throughout, and these extra details worked to elicit a general sense of unease and claustrophobia to the atmosphere.
Over time, this explanation simmered in my mind. I found it interesting how the director knew that a latent sense of unease and hopelessness could be induced by merely blocking out the sky and obstructing the horizon.
If this was true, was the inverse also true?
The answer presented itself to me sooner than I expected.
After a busy day at work one evening, I head out to a large park in my city to enjoy the remnants of summer. After some wandering, I happened across a large, open section of the park, far and wide enough for me to feel completely exposed under the blue skies and wispy white clouds. I could do nothing but surrender to the heavens above me. The more I walked in this distinct section of the park, the freer I felt. My soul seemed to leap out of my chest and get the spiritual exercise it so craved.
I am no stranger to vast, open natural wonders. I have travelled the world and ascended mountains enough times to see sights that were inconceivable to my vision only years before, but I was unable to effectively describe the way such sights made me feel. I lacked the language and raw material of thought for me to understand what I was experiencing.
But why is this seemingly common, natural experience so niche today?
Cages of our Own Doing
In 2008 mankind passed a new milestone in our collective history. By the year’s end, half of the global population lived in urban rather than rural areas, with the trend continuing to rise. [2]
While some celebrate this as a symbol of man’s triumph over nature – his day to day reliance on his environment stabilised and subsequently sterilised – most of us have felt the impact of removing ourselves from the natural world first hand.
Vast swathes of humanity have instead found themselves addicted to the tools of comfort we have invented (a whirlpool of soft-addiction that spares not even the author) such that 28% of adults in the UK spend between 3-4 hours per day on their phones. This figure rises to almost 5 hours for those aged 16-24. [3]
Combining both of these facts, it is hard to be optimistic about future trends. With the world population becoming more urbanised and each coming generation spending more time on electronic devices, is it really any wonder that a popular online snark literally dares others to ‘touch grass’?
At a more fundamental level, why is this bad at all? What are the effects on man when he is generally distant from nature in the first place?
Restricting man’s connection to the environment for too long sends him into a state of restlessness and agitation. We extend the deepest sympathies for animals when we believe them to be too confined in a zoo but we show no such distress at our own entrapments.
When animals first enter captivity, the once boundless realm of movement they enjoyed is then reduced to an artificial, limited boundary, and this suffocation can manifest in their every day behaviour.
Orison Swett Marden writes:
“Watch a newly caged lion, or even the average lion of a menagerie, as he paces restlessly and, in his waking hours, ceaselessly to and fro, frequently lashing his tail. He is instinctively seeking […] to be free…” [4]
Visit a zoo and you are likely to see the same behaviour yourself.
The same however, applies to man. Our sympathetic gazes towards captured animals would serve more utility cast upon ur own states. Surrounded by high rise builds in jungles full of concrete, is it any wonder the collective malaise we feel is a feature of our times?
Man’s nature is to live freely. Anything that restricts and binds without reason naturally feels oppressive to us. We instinctually desire and seek the freedom we crave, and there is nothing that symbolises freedom better than a vast, open horizon, full of opportunity and daring adventurers to chase it and enter its realm.
The heart of every freedom loving creature years for the boundless horizon. It craves plains, vistas and mountaintops. It loves nothing more than to perch itself above a valley, scanning everything before it as the proud eagle surveys its territory.
Akira Toriyama (the author behind the world famous ‘Dragon Ball’ series) had a work schedule that belies belief. Living in a city other than Tokyo meant that he had to regularly travel to submit his work to his publisher. At times he was reported to have only slept 6-7 hours a week in total in order to meet strict deadlines.
Moving to Tokyo would have greatly eased this burden upon him and dramatically improve his schedule, but it was reported that Toriyama refused to move to anywhere “without a visible horizon”. [5]
While the story eventually ended on a positive note (Toriyama’s hard work paid off and Dragon Ball has since become a generational icon), Toriyama knew something back then that many of us have yet to truly acknowledge. Seeing the horizon allows our souls to breathe, it inspires awe and wonder which in turn give birth to creativity. Without it, Toriyama must have felt that crafting his stories was impossible.
Like Todd Phillips intended with his artistic decisions in Joker, he would have felt caved in, the obstructed skyline slowly suffocating his love of the world, his creative spirit withering without the sunlight it needed to survive.
And yet, even if one accepts that the vast horizon inspires the soul and gives it comfort, why is it so?
The Search
In the Islamic tradition, Prophet Abraham (peace and blessings of God be upon him), in his search to know God, casts his vision upon the sky, wondering if the magnificent stars, moon and sun are God before settling his heart on their Creator instead. [6] The link between the vast open skies and yearning for meaning, purpose and truth are clearly linked. It is a tale as old as time.
Similar sentiments occur in other traditions. Frederick W. Robertson wrote that this feeling comes from an inborn desire within the human heart which he describes as ‘cravings of infinitude’. Suggesting that humans are created such that ‘nothing which has limits satisfies’, Robertson defined this feeling as a craving to know God, the Limitless – ‘hence the sense of freedom and relief which comes from all that suggests the idea of boundlessness: the deep sky, the dark night, the endless circle, the illimitable ocean.’ [7] Once again, the sky, the ocean, the horizon, all of these represent what man seeks most.
Even viewing these wonderous natural scenes affect us at our core. Florence Williams in ‘The Nature Fix’ writes about how viewing nature in all its glory elicits a concoction of emotions which leave an imprint on our soul:
“With their mixture of fear, beauty and mystery, these experiences also tend to get seared into our memory.” [8]
This fear, beauty and mystery we feel when we see the sublime in nature captivates us entirely. We are both in love with and fear what we see. What lies before us reminds us of our small, fragile and short existence while at the same time allowing us to reach out beyond ourselves. The fact that we can never truly comprehend how they came to be and how they function outside of us in their full, interconnected glory leaves us to drown in mystery, fuelling our desire to have our sight return to the scenery time and time again.
Compare this to the items we own or the pieces of media we turn to time and time again. Even our favourite amongst them will seem old and tiresome with daily use. How many of us would volunteer to watch our favourite film day after day? But the sunset? The horizon? The ocean of the earth and the celestial oceans of the night sky? These will never get old no matters how many of them we see.
The more we search for the reasons behind man’s instinctual love for boundless horizons, we find the same transcendental yearnings that those before us face faced since time immemorial. Settling our eyes across something vast brings relief to our hearts and can inspires feelings of awe. Such experiences are not only pleasures of life, but they are modern day necessities.
Get out into the plains! Let the openness of the vast blue skies tear open your chest and free your soul from the confines of its immaterial prison! Let your heart be pulled to the skies, willingly or unwillingly!
As Thoreau wrote:
“There are none happy in the world but beings who enjoy freely a vast horizon” [9]
Seek the horizon.
References
[1] – https://youtu.be/awoQuVq2yYc?t=524[2] – https://news.un.org/en/story/2008/02/250402
[3] – https://www.legalandgeneral.com/insurance/life-insurance/screen-time-reality-check/
[4] – Orison Swett Marden, Keeping Fit
[5] – https://www.cbr.com/dragon-ball-akira-toriyama-sleep-6-hours/
[6] – https://quran.com/al-anam, Verses 76-79
[7] – https://victorianweb.org/religion/robertson/sermon1.html
[8] – Florence Williams, The Nature Fix
[9] – Henry David Thoreau, Walden