An early sign of the gift, powerful and definitive, came when I reached the Sierra Nevada on my dissertation quest. Over the preceding days of driving a thousand plus miles, I had endured bouts of high anxiety. What on earth had I done by leaving a good job and taking off on a romantic journey that might only expose my incompetence as writer, Nature explorer, and scholar, and having no notion what I would do when (if) I successfully finished?
A Life Considered, page 65
photo by Pablo Fierro
National Indie Excellence Award Finalist 2020
We recognize awakening when we experience it, wonder at the moment’s appearance and passing, and appreciate its teaching.
Reverence for Existence, page 58
Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul.
~John Muir
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Thoughts From My Journal – Colorado Desert
What a place this desert is! Strange as it sounds, it feels to me dry, as if the area may be in serious drought and the flora are hanging on but suffering. Just a feeling and I’ll check it out when I can. But there’s none of OPC’s vibrancy and comparatively less green; shades of brown is the dominant color motif. Even though the rock piles I mentioned are hardly present here there remain plenty of rocky prominences, and the landscape has a tough aura about it, as if it will make-do somehow no matter how long before moisture arrives. I hope it’s not fooling itself during what I’m coming to think of as the approach of Nature’s “end days” as...
It is the twenty-seventh of October now, and early in the morning. The moon is over the southwest mountains. It has definitely moved out of fullness, more noticeable than last night. I have never before asked when and where the moon changes phases. But now I know: always, everywhere, slowly.
Reverence for Existence, page 147
“Going to the woods is going home, for I suppose we came from the woods originally.”
But in some of nature’s forests, the adventurous traveler seems a feeble, unwelcome creature; wild beasts and the weather trying to kill him, the rank, tangled vegetation, armed with spears and stinging needles, barring his way and making life a hard struggle.
~ John Muir