Life in nature, nature in life.
I often would like to be ever present in nature, alone. All societal endeavors are merely a rude awakening about the social necessities within my modern life; I want to be immersed in nature yet always entreat just a touch of social company.
I reflect upon my journey in Alberta, Canada this last August and how the mountains and trees and waters, in all their expanse, consumed my imagination. I was left speechless. I was left alone with three friends, left without voice—a definition for nature and what it truly is.
I was filled with awe that seemed to calmly quiver my entire body. I could wholly appreciate nature’s indifference and consider the mountain’s dominion as natural amity. For I, like Henry David Thoreau, believe that the most innocent and encouraging society may be found in any natural object.
Are we not drawn nearer to nature? Does not nature compel our senses to behold its greater aspect? God is in nature. God is constantly around us. God is next to us. God is under the soles of our feet. God is near our souls, near our hearts where His Holy Spirit beats. He is the workman whose work we are.
“‘How vast and profound is the influence of the subtile powers of Heaven and of Earth!’”
I digress hardly a few decades earlier: for my heart leaps up when I behold a towering mountain, a valley low, a tree or stone along an aged road, a bough from where the rain drops and blows in the wind.
In my time I will journey again. I will stand in solitude and let nature speak for itself, for how much more are my words worth?