Sunday, February 16, 2020

kin to everything

When we try to pick out anything by itself, 
we find it hitched to everything else in the universe. 
One fancies a heart like our own must be beating in every crystal and cell,
 and we feel like stopping to speak to the plants and animals
 as friendly fellow mountaineers. 
Nature as a poet, an enthusiastic workingman,
 becomes more and more visible the farther and higher we go; 
for the mountains are fountains — 
beginning places, however related to sources beyond mortal ken.

One is constantly reminded of the infinite lavishness and fertility of Nature —
 inexhaustible abundance amid what seems enormous waste. 
And yet when we look into any of her operations that lie within reach of our minds,
 we learn that no particle of her material is wasted or worn out. 
It is eternally flowing from use to use, 
beauty to yet higher beauty;
 and we soon cease to lament waste and death, 
and  rather rejoice and exult in the imperishable, 
unspendable wealth of the universe,
 and faithfully watch and wait the reappearance
 of everything that melts and fades and dies about us,
 feeling sure that its next appearance will be better and more beautiful than the last.

More and more, in a place like this, 
we feel ourselves part of wild Nature, 
kin to everything.

~ John Muir
from  John Muir: Nature Writings