Finally, fall is upon us! Familiar smells, the crunch of leaves underfoot and the leaves changing colors beckons us all outside. And why not, with such beautiful weather?

For us on campus, it is one of the best times of the year to appreciate the Linnaeus Arboretum. Fun fact: did you know the Arboretum is shaped like Minnesota, and different foliage and flora corresponds to where you might find it in our state? Think about that the next time you take a stroll through there.

Think, because it is enviable that you will go through the Arboretum at some point. I’m there almost every day during a prime time of the year (like fall), and I see a lot of other people enjoying it too. It’s quite a beautiful place not only to appreciate the fall colors, but to take that friend (or budding romance) for a good conversation.

I find myself there quite often to talk and to think; sometimes I just like the walk. I love it because I can go through there and each time see something new. It’s also familiar enough that when I get lost in thought, I don’t get lost from campus.

This past weekend I found myself going for a walk I had thought I’d have company for, but which ended up being a solitary saunter. Some people don’t like being alone—and I think that’s because they don’t like being with themselves. Yes friends are nice and nobody should go without relationships, but there is a difference between being alone and feeling alone.

Being removed occasionally from the inputs of others is freeing. It’s like unhinging yourself from everything but you and nature. You drift from thought to appearance, from reaching toward’s the sublime to falling right back into your shoes. A walk as simple as once around the Arboretum can turn into anything, and quickly.

That walk I mentioned last weekend, though alone, was illuminating. I started by thinking about being alone but was almost immediately aware that I was not even close to it that afternoon. The Greeks were out cleaning (a commendable service!), and their voices could be heard anywhere in the interior.

A recent passage in a book I read came to mind. This book (The Ego Tunnel by Thomas Metzinger) discusses how we as humans exist and is exceptionally interesting and readable—but the passage I was thinking about concerns free will, or whether we can have any control over our actions.

Here’s the basic problem: we all are innately aware that we choose our actions, believe that, for at least some cases, we definitely feel as if we control our bodies, actions and even thoughts. Bio- and neurologically, however, it is impossible for you to be doing anything else than what you’re doing right now, given the state of your physical being. You think you’re choosing to read my article (and you may choose to stop right here), but the simple fact is that if we made an exact double of you right now and put it where you are, it would be doing exactly what you’re doing.

That doesn’t really answer the question of free will, but the book makes the point that perhaps we cannot answer it for ourselves. It did make me think about the world and how “free” it really is. Walking through the Arboretum, I realized that almost none of my surroundings existed before there were Gusties. We maintain the Arboretum, controlling each plant that grows and each leaf that falls. The fields were burnt according to our design. A place of such natural beauty, a place where we go to escape the cubes of our civilized existence—even that place has our determining hand all over it.

Do not take me to mean that we should stop grooming the Arboretum and nurturing the plants and animals that inhabit it. I support just the opposite. I merely remark that our need to determine and control extends to every bit of the world and that while we reject the concept that our world is already determined for us, we reject the possibility that the world can determine itself.