“The forests, too, seem kindly familiar, and the lakes and meadows and glad singing streams. I should like to dwell with them forever.”John Muir
I recently spent a week in the countryside of Vermont. Ironically, I was warned that it would be quiet for my city-dwelling ears. It wasn’t. It was gloriously loud. I was moved by how much life was there – in the country – at my AirBNB. Two cats, a dog, two gerbils, four sheep, ten chickens, and countless birds an insects – all reminding me that we need one another.
Nature is nourishing to our souls. It allows us to breathe, think, be. And yet, we spend most of our time confined in rooms with little glass windows, trapped in WiFi, bowing before “neon gods we made” as Paul Simon wrote.
It’s no wonder why we crave adventures outdoors – paying for experiences rather than things. Traveling to see flowers. Hiking so we can see valleys. We need it as much as it needs us. It’s wonderful to have the stewardship of this tiny blue dot. But that can make us feel so small sometimes.
We are not small. The lakes and the meadows and the “glad singing streams” sing for us. The katydids and crickets remind us that we have ears to hear and enjoy. The wind touches our face gently like a kiss from the past. Our eyes are presented with the graceful ballet of trees.
I am part of nature. I listen to the chorus of the brook. I take time for myself to just be. I matter. My feelings are temporary. My place is lasting.