Something To Think About and Journal Notes

SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT

      Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature.  It will never fail you.    Frank Lloyd Wright

     My wish is to stay always like this, living quietly in a corner of nature.     Claude Monet

JOURNAL NOTES

       I think about nature a lot.  It is fundamental to my well-being.  There is a fulfilling effect that comes through me when walking as the cool wind brushes my cheek gently.  I don’t make it happen but the awareness of it brings a happiness to me.  When I see the moon rise above the ridge line of the mesa, I watch because it represents the ebb and flow of life.  When I wake in the morning it is fading toward mesas on the west side of the sky; now it is small, faint, but brilliantly white as it decends.  The night ending and the day beginning.  If you think of it you realize you are actually watching the passage of time.  The tide comes as the moon rises and goes out as the moon lowers into the western sky.  I live on the Colorado Plateau; I do not see the tide, but as the moon rises and falls I know it happens.  

    I long to see things wild.  It has been too long since I have been immersed where I was not born.  I want to see the desert sheep perched on boulders as I hike past.  I long to see the canyon crows float across the sandstone cliff walls, quiet and ancient.  I try to imagine what the sheep must think and what the crows and ravens say when they talk to each other.  They live in a realm humans cannot touch although I long to.  I would like to understand them and know that in some small way we could connect in a world where it seems there is little connection to anyone or anything.  I guess I have been feeling somewhat melancholy.  Even though this winter has been too warm, I feel it lingers and I want spring to come.  I want to immerse myself in sand and sun.  I want to hike longer than I should and bask in the satisfaction exertion brings.  I want to melt into all that is around me and remember we are all a product of our universe; stardust.  I think we all envision ourselves as particles of god, whatever god is to us.  I like John Muir’s philosophy.  While a deeply spiritual man, he did not find his identity within the walls of a church.  His church was in the Sierra Mountains where his god resided.  So I find mine within the sandstone walls of a canyon.

    My melancholy will pass quickly as soon as my boots hit the dirt.  All will be well.