Reflections on Nature, Myself, and Others
In the process of journalling nature, I took extra care to take into account what I saw, what I felt, and what I thought. To start with, I had to establish a going definition of what exactly nature is. I went outside, and realized that this was far from practical. Nature, I realized, is not one specific thing, it is everything. Everything that surrounds us as we leave the protection of our homes is nature. Therefore, I established that a clear definition for nature need not be, as nature is so many things.
Now knew what I was looking for and I began to carefully examine not only nature, but my own mind, complex as it is, and discovered many things about myself and my relation to nature. The first and foremost of these things was my intimate connection to the nature that surrounds me in my everyday life. I realized that I am a part of nature. A part of the bigger system that is the Earth, and I discovered my place and my purpose. I realized that it is my responsibility as one of nature's children to protect her from the harm that we humans continually inflict upon her. I found that I was connected deeply to nature, from the very roots of my being.
This revelation came not from the direct observations of the nature around me, but from the delving deep into my own person. When sitting outside, walking, hiking, living, I feel more at home than I do indoors. It is not an obvious feeling, but it is definitely present. As I sat outside, I would notice this feeling, coming gradually at first and then growing until I realized what it meant. This was the feeling of my intimate connection to nature, the feeling that told me that this was where I belonged.
As I observed the nature that surrounded me outside, I was struck by what I saw. I did not see the inanimate objects of some system beyond my control. Instead, I see nature living, moving, changing, breathing. I realized that nature is all around me and that it does not assume any one static form, but takes the form best suited to its purpose. There is the hard wood. There is the intangible breeze. There are so many other things that make up that greater thing which we refer to as nature. In this way, I realized that nature is in fact far superior to the human race, a fact that should have been obvious from the onset, as nature was the creator of said race.
My final observation was an unfortunate one. I observed time and time again, the horrific ways in which we are destroying our environment. As a race, we take no cautions to ensure the continuation of anyone except ourselves. While nature is adaptable to many hurdles we throw to her, a point will be reached when there is no hope for nature. We must act now. We must do what we can to protect nature before it is too late, before we cause irrevocable harm.
Over the last week and a half, I made many observations about the nature that surrounds us all in our daily lives. I looked at the ordinary and the extraordinary. The tangible and the intangible. The real and the abstract. And through all of these observations, I came to the following set of conclusions: We are intimately connected to nature, nature is ever evolving, and we need to protect nature. These fundamental conclusions will certainly have a major impact on my life in the future, and it is my hope that they will have an equal impact on everyone else in society, and that everyone will finally learn, once and for all, that we need to protect nature by any means necessary.
2/27/10
4:13 pm.
I step outside into the snow. Crunch. It grinds smoothly under my feet, leaving impressions of thereof, protected from the cold by that firm rubber sole. Immediately, I do not feel the cold of the air, but the warmth of the reflected sun on my face. It is pleasant, not overbearing. I appreciate it as I look out. I blink. Clearing the bright light from my eyes as I adjust to its beauty. The cold starts to reach my skin, gentle, kind, countering the warmth of the sun and creating a gentle blanket around me. I feel warm. At peace.
As I look around me, I try to comprehend where I am, what I am doing, why I am? The first question, had you asked me two days ago would have been easy; I am in my driveway. Not exciting, not particularly natural, though still having a certain charm. Now, however, this question is not so simple. Behind me, the house still is. Yes, still there. But in front of me a new landscape emerges, one that is totally new, unique, different. The ground is shrouded in white, like a sheet. Covering everything. The snow. It sparkles gently in the sun, twinkling, teasing, playing. As I watch it, it is constantly changing, slowly, but surely. I see drops of water come cascading to the ground. This is just water, but it is also snow. Snow in its purest elemental form. The drops gracefully plummet, catching the light of the sun, as they seek the ground far below them. And then they are home, from whence they came, amongst the snowflakes coating the ground, taking more with them.
What am I doing? I have asked this many times with limited response. I am here, surrounded by snow. Doing? Nothing. But nothing cannot truly sum up the experience. In that one moment, I am doing everything. I am one with nature, I am part of it, I am it. I feel the cold around me, and I accept it. I see the sunlight, and I embrace it. I touch the snow, and I am it. This is where I am. This is what I am doing. This is why.
This is why I am. I am here to be one. To accept what is around me. I do not control it, in the same way that it does not control me. It reaches into my inner self, and from it draws its life. I reach into its central being, and draw my existence. Nature is me. I am nature. Simple. Complete. Being.
2/28/10
1:25 pm.
The sky. That vast space. Extending infinitely in every direction. But today, it has been enclosed, captured, taken advantage of. Grey clouds skate across the sky. Covering it. Sucking out its very essence. The sun’s shine is blocked from sight and here I am. Below. Left alone. Isolated.
The clouds. Those commanding, overbearing beings. Floating across the sky. Controlling it. Doing as they see fit. Here I am below. There is the sky above. And all I see are the clouds. They have taken the very essence of the sky. Stretching out in all directions with their steely grey mass. They show no signs of breaking. The sky is powerless to resist them, and they cover everything.
I am left alone. The sky is my friend. It is open, free, beautiful, pure. But now, where is my friend. He is gone from this earth. Destroyed, mercilessly, unceremoniously. And here am I.
When I look around me to find comfort, I find none. All is grey and white. Colorless, empty, foreboding. Why has this happened to me. Why these clouds. A day ago, this scene was beautiful, serene, and now it is barren and desolate. Why me. Do I deserve this. This hell. Without sun. Without sky. Without life. Cold. Grey.
I look up hopefully. A slight parting in the clouds. The golden rays of sun are about to break through. Bring back life, joy, opportunity. And then the clouds come again and cover up all hope. I despair. This is what my life has come to be. The work. The solitude. Everything. Everything is crashing down around me. Drowning me in its overwhelmingness and yet I stay. No escape is evident. No way out of this hole. This hell.
Will I awake from this? Unlikely. This is my life. This is how my life has been. I see the rays of sun starting to poke through the clouds once again, and that is how my life will be. I hope that is how my life will be.
As I return later to ponder, darkness is starting to invade the sky. A faint orange glow forces through the clouds. Pale, but distinct. I know why this is here. It is for me. This is my true destiny. I am not to live the life of darkness, shrouded in the clouds. They do not control my life any more than I can control them, and yet, they must always pass. While I remain constant, they are always changing, shifting from one to another. And finally, they are leaving. Where they will go? Your guess is as good as mine. But it will not be here. They will be gone, and I will be free.
Free in the clear sky. The open air. The bright sun. And I am at home. This is where I belong. Not under the cover of these dark, oppressive clouds, but in the sky. With the sky. The clouds are not the sky. But I am the sky.
3/4/10
9:30 pm
It is dark out. I walk along the street and look up, observing the sky above me. The clouds are patchy now. The weather has been grey and rainy, but now it is passing. I see the clouds. They look like cotton. Thin in spots, thick in others. They are starting to give way to the sky. That all knowing, beautiful fact of nature. I see stars poking through the clouds. First one, then two. They are specks of light. They pierce the sky with their brilliance, yet they do not illuminate. They are simply there, all knowing, seeing everything until the clouds come to cover them.
And the clouds have covered them. For the last week, there has been rain and snow and sleet and grey. And more grey. These pure points have been mercilessly covered up by the clouds and they have not seen what has gone on on Earth. And we on Earth have not seen what has gone on in the sky. Those ever watching beacons have been non existent. For those traveling on the underground railroad, these were the nights that they feared above all others. These cloudy nights. With no compasses except the stars, they were lost. Down the stream without a paddle. Or even a pair of hands or feet with which to do a couple strokes.
But tonight, the stars have made their return. I see several, maybe three, maybe four, maybe more, but the number is unimportant. The simple fact that they have returned causes the rise of such elation in my soul that I skip, happily, joyously, on the dark street, stretching off towards my house.
As I look off to the west, I see a glow in the sky on the horizon. What is more beautiful than the glow of the sun, set below the horizon, yet still illuminating the sky with its soft orange glow? This is the thought that ran through my head as I walked, and then I realized. That was not the light of the sun, that huge celestial orb that hangs in the sky, lighting up our days, whose departure plunges us into darkness.
This light is the light of the town of Princeton. Shining up. Polluting the purity of the sky with its disgusting brilliance. The lights of Nassau Street, spraying up, reflecting down, this is the world in which we live in.
We no longer live on the same planet on which we lived 1,000 years ago. Not even 100 years. Not even 10. Every year, day, minute, second, we pollute our atmosphere. We pump toxins into the sky, and hope that they will not find us again, but they inevitably do.
The world is referred to by scientists as a closed system. This is completely self explanatory description. Whatever we produce, whatever toxic chemicals that pollute our air, noxious light that pollutes our sky, stays with us forever. It does not leave, it merely cycles back to us in a different form, often worse than before. When we pollute the air, we create acid rain. Far from cleaning out what we have already put into the air, the rain merely absorbs a small amount, leaving the air toxic and pouring acid down onto the planet. Our planet.
It is our planet. No matter what we do to it, it is still our planet. We should treat it as such. We should appreciate nature for what it is. We add our cars, our factories, our cities, and we try to see nature. This is impossible. To truly see nature. To own our planet and be proud of it, we need change. If we use up our planet's ability to maintain itself. If we keep producing carbon dioxide and acid rain. If we keep doing all of these things, then we will lose our right to the planet that we should not have a right to in the first place. Though it is our planet, it should not be our planet until we treat it as such.
3/6/10
4:07 pm
Little things in nature can be the most important. They should be appreciated for what they are, nothing more, and yet we need to appreciate them. To prove this, I decided to spend time in the analysis of one small aspect of nature – the twig pictured above. Though seemingly a simple part of a larger system, this twig has a great importance in it's own right:
This twig is a small piece of the greater puzzle that is nature. Upon immediate inspection, it is nothing extraordinary. The bark is brown, earthy. It has a striated pattern running down the length and three sets of knots, opposite each other along it's duration. It is about four inches long, and is slightly pointed at one end, a testament to it's removal from a greater length of twig by my own tow hands. At that end, the bare wood is visible. That naked flesh which provides the entire tree with its sustenance, its reason for being. This flesh is lighter in color than the bark itself, a light brownish tan.
This is not a tree. It is not even the branch of a tree, and yet it is important. It is also unique. Each twig has its own character, story, and reason for existence. If this twig could speak, it would tell of many things. Things that happened to it. Things that happened to the twigs around it. What a story that would be. It would go on for days, weeks, years. Each twig is years old. Some are older than myself, and yet here I am, and there it is.
In my hand, I hold a single object that is itself the representation of so many things. It caresses my palm with its softness. It bites my palm with its rigidity. And it splinters in my palm with its fragility. This is the way of nature. Nature does not maintain itself in one way, it is constantly changing, morphing from one thing to another in much the same way this simple piece of wood does.
This is what makes nature so unique and necessary to our survival. It is ever changing. Nature is never static, and never rests. It evolves from one thing to another, morphing to fit its various needs. This is a lesson that we as human beings need to take into account. We have to be open to change, accept whatever happens, and adapt to it. This is what we have not been able to do when it comes to global warming. Despite the signs, we have been unable to change ourselves. Nature has adapted, in her ever versatile way, and yet we refuse, and will continue to do so for as long as we deem necessary, which will inevitably be when every one on this earth has perished. That is human nature.
In such a way, the little twig that I hold in the palm of my hand represents so much more than what initially meets the eye. It represents the ever changing ways of nature and nature's adaptability to change. It is also a representation of what we should be and it offers us a crucial message as to where we should go from here.
3/6/10
7:00 pm
I look to the west and see the sun's light fading in the sky. It is beautiful. One of nature's true wonders. This is a sunset. Every day, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Every day. Despite the commonness of this, it is always unique, never static, always changing.
Today, like every other night is unique. The formation of the clouds, not many, reflects the orange glow from the that celestial orb. It is beautiful. My eyes travel upwards away from the horizon and the sky fades gradually from orange to deep blue. I notice this transition and revel in its bizarre, overwhelming, gradient. Overhead, a kind of navy blue is reached, and this is where I stop.
The warmth of the sun still illuminates the sky, yet several stars have made their appearances. I see Venus, the Evening Star, shining out brightly, while the other stars have yet to make true appearances. I stand and wait. Nothing happens. The sun continues it's never ceasing descent towards the horizon.
Where the sun has lit the sky with its light stand many trees, their branches barren, winter still maintaining its hold. These trees stand as sentinels, watching the horizon, protecting the world which they oversee from that which the same world cannot imagine. They maintain their guard at all hours, never resting from their post. In the summer when their branches are clothed in leaves, some trees bearing fruits, others flowers, they maintain their watch.
As I look out at these trees, I feel a connection to them, an obligation. They stand here every day, watching over my world, protecting me from things that I do not even have the mental capacity to imaging, and yet I do nothing for them. They never rest, even at the early hours of the morning, they maintain their vigilance.
These thoughts make me feel a certain connection to the nature that is around me. It protects me, helps me, and it deserves my assistance in return. I should aid it. Protect it. Do as I see fit for it's well being, and yet I do nothing. As I sit here at my computer, relaying my thoughts, I do nothing to help these poor trees. I use electricity, produced by coal from a power plant. I pollute the atmosphere with my gas heating and my electric power.
Despite all of these things, I do what I can to aid the environment. I feel it is my purpose to do everything in my power to aid it. I use my laptop, designed to conserve all possible electricity. I use low power fluorescent light bulbs which last 100 times while using 1/8th the power of an ordinary light bulb. In fairer weather than that which we have recently experienced, I bike to school daily, providing myself with exercise, and burning one day's worth less of gasoline.
These are all things that we can do. That we should do. It is our purpose to protect the environment. To do what we can for it. Everyone can start by doing these certain things, but it does not stop there. We can recycle. Wear our clothes until they fall to shreds. Read papers online instead of printing them.
We owe these things to our environment because we are part of it. We all came from the earth, were created by the earth, and we are part of the earth. When I sit outside, contemplating nature, I feel this connection. It is a strong bond between me and the things around me. A sort of mutual agreement. Mutual connection. I am one with nature because nature is one with me. The breeze blows through my hair. The sunshine warms my face. The rain tickles my skin. And all around me there is nature. I am in nature, and therefore I am part of nature. Nature allows me to live in this world, and so the least I can do, the least any of us can do, is to protect nature, respect nature, and be one with nature.
3/7/10
1:12 pm
I walk. I ponder. I feel. I breathe. Cogito ergo sum. I think, therefore I am. This simple statement, made by Euclid so many years before this day, is a testament to where I am now. I do not worry. I know that school will come. I know what I must do. The math test I must study for. The English essay which I must write before the weekend ends, but at this moment, these things are not important. I need not worry about such trivialities. I am here. I am. Carpe deum.
As I walk, observing nature, the blue sky in all its brilliance, clear, pure, these things no longer matter to me. I am no longer a part of this human society, I no longer desire to be. I am instead a part of this beautiful nature that surrounds me. I am enveloped. I do not think any more of the things that I must do, the places I must go, the people I must meet. I live in the moment.
The sun is bright. Everything around me is beautiful, alive. I feel a sense of utter elation as I walk. Life. It surrounds me. The first birds of the spring are out, flying around overhead, making their detailed formations, so structured and yet so unique.
I wish that I could be one of these birds, soaring above the world on wings, lighter than air. They fly up, I fly up. I float above the sidewalk, moving farther and farther away, soon above the trees, up, up, up. This is where I belong. Up into the sky. This is my home. This is where I live. This is where I will stay. There are no clouds in the sky, it is so clear. I can see below me many things. People, trees, buildings.
Buildings. Some call them beautiful. But they have a twisted view of beauty. In the same way that the ancient Chinese found foot binding to be stimulating, so do people of today find such attraction to buildings. But when you see them from this objective view, from far above, they appear different. They are the manifestation of human evil. They are not beautiful. They destroy. They consume necessary human resources so that people gan live meaningless lives. They no longer learn appreciation for nature. They are sheltered from everything and cannot learn to live.
In the early days of the human race, there were no buildings. We depended on nature for our protection, for our livelihood. Now, we depend on nature more than ever, and yet we don't know it. Our food comes from nature's soil. Our homes come from nature's wood. Our live comes from nature's soul. And yet we destroy nature. We build our structures and destroy what remains of Earth's purity, and we never appreciate nature for what it is.
We have learned to mould nature into what we want. As I soar here above the trees, over the greater town of Princeton, New Jersey, I look down and see nature. But it is not truly nature, but nature with her arm twisted behind her back, being forced into grotesque shapes, with no mercy. This is what nature has become. In our hands, it has been twisted. How can we live like this, accepting that our mother, the mother of our race, who has nurtured us from the outset, is being tormented in this way. We must stop. We must accept nature, not change it. We must feel nature. And live nature.
3/7/10
5:26 pm
I sit in my back yard. The sun is setting to the west. I look at it briefly, its image burning into retinas. It bathes the sky in orange as it sinks ever lower towards the horizon in its endless cycle. Its light no longer bathes the earth in warmth. As I sit here, there is a slight chill nagging at my skin, and I realize. Sight is not my only sense. It dominates my life, but there are people who live their entire lives without such a luxury. To truly live life and appreciate the nature that surrounds me at this moment in time, I will forgo such trivialities as sight, and I will focus on that which is not visible. I will hear. I will feel. I will smell. In this way, I will get a true sense of nature.
What I here is of the utmost importance. I here the wind blowing through the trees. Their needles and branches rustle. An airplane passes over head. I hear it's rumble passing on. Its slow journey across the sky. Here comes the wind again, and with it a similar sound. This is not the sound of nature, this is the sound of what is man made, a car. Another plane. All of this technology. Constantly surrounding everything that makes up our lives. Children are calling, enjoying some light game, living without any fear of night that is soon to come. More serious voices. A discussion of some sort, and that is is. Birds sing their wondrous calls, as the world prepares to rest itself, at the set of the sun.
I feel many things. The breeze that rustled through the trees breathes across my face as I sit still, feeling. I feel the cold, nipping at my finger tips, they do not feel very much anymore, the cold is too great. A shiver runs through the air, it passes through my body, and is released, but the memory of it remains. I feel the soft ground beneath my feet, the hard seat on which I sit, and I know. Nature is not some static thing. It does not resume one form, maintaining through all which takes place. Instead, it adapts. Nature is the wind. Nature is my hard seat. Nature is the ground. These are all forms of nature, and this is a true representation of nature's versatility. My versatility. We are all nature, and we are all versatile. We just need to find ourselves.
Smells are a harder sense to track down. There are many smells, and half of the smells that you smell are simply imagined by our brain.
The brain, that pound and a half of chicken-colored goo so highly regarded (by the brain itself), that slimy organ to which is attributed such intricate and mysterious powers (it is the self same brain that does the attributing)...
Tom Robbins Even Cowgirls Get the Blues
I smell many smells, imagined or otherwise. I smell fresh grass, coming from below my feet as I sit, the grass surrounding me on the ground on all sides. I also smell the smell of pine, one so generally associated with the smells of Christmas and Christmas trees. It is wonderful. Whether I can actually smell these things or not, they are wonderful smells.
Through my observations, I have proved to myself, to he who finds the time to read this work, that sight is the most meaningless of the senses. With my other sense, I gather a much fuller understanding of the world. A greater appreciation for the nature that surrounds my everyday life. It is no longer something outside of me. I am no longer an objective observer. I have been immersed. I am now part of something greater. Something complete. I am a member of that closed system. That planet. That thing that we call Earth.
