My father lost his fly rod in this river just a little downstream. He chased it as the current swept it away until it disappeared over a waterfall. So, when I saw the man fishing I immediately wanted a picture. But my childhood memories of that day made me cautious. I approached quietly.
When he saw me, he smiled and waved, obviously having a better day than my father. He was happy to let me take his picture doing what he loved to do. If I did that on his front lawn he would call the cops. Instead, he waved and called out to ask how I’m doing today.
I’m pretty sure that shouting wrecks fishing. But he was so overjoyed with the experience that he needed to share it with someone. To see if I felt it, too. To validate that this was really happening.
Nature strikes us like this, at our very core. Its influence is mysterious.
Hooks And Lies
Leftists insist that life is an unexplainable accident, a random collision of stars ejecting us as mere stardust in their wake. Things are everything, they say.
Oh, they know that nature is inspiring, restful, and refreshing. That on an average year more than 11 million people come to the Smokey Mountain National Park, the most popular national park of all. Even leftists come here, though they pretend they’ve forgotten why.
They do it because it’s obvious to everyone that the beauty and wonder of nature inspires us all.
Nature Heals
We exercise and eat well to take care of our bodies because we understand something about how nature works. We know that actions have results and health doesn’t come from nowhere. We see how complex interactions naturally play out in our own bodies.
We know that sunlight boosts our immune system and fresh air heals our lungs. Our best efforts at vaccinations fail but the elixir of the great outdoors kills the toxins of the worst plague most have ever known.
Vitamin D comes from sunshine. Exercise powers immunity’s hormones. Green plants erase the effects of corrosive elements from our cells. Viruses are met by massive defenses. Clever vaccines simply amplify what’s already there.
Our best and brightest cannot design a better cure than this “accident” that they dismiss out of hand. They look within to solve their problems without imagining that their own creativity is just another part of a greater design.
Just Luck?
But if it’s all a mad, crazy accident, then none of it should matter. We should have no more feeling for the beauty of a rose than an amoeba does.
A sunset shouldn’t make us stop and stare at the mesmerizing colors in the sky. A majestic tree swaying over a mountain stream, backlit by the setting sun, should mean no more than a weed in a cow pasture.
But there is a traffic jam at this particular river at this time of year over something as simple as the color of a leaf. It shouldn’t matter to us at all, but we all feel the power of an entire mountain changing hue with the season.
It is a last colorful promise of the return of spring.
Call of the Wild
We hike into the wilderness, not only to perform a ritual necessary for our health. We have an untranslated code within us that rings with the need to explore the mysteries of a world unorganized by human will.
We imagine what the river and trees will look like covered in settling snow after we are snug in our dens. We wonder how the animals survive the freeze and reappear year after year.
We stop, frozen at the sight of a deer or rabbit. Our heart pounds if we see a bear lumbering in the distance. Then it melts when two playful, rollicking cubs follow their mother across the path.
Tale of Mystery
Nature is more than just a mystery. It is telling us a story that is as old as life itself. The words resonate but the meaning seems just out of reach. What is nature trying to say?
We respond with words or sketches or we try to capture it with a smartphone so the beauty will not end. We replay the sound of wind and rain as we try to sleep. We imagine the burble and roar of the river as we lie safely on our beds at home.
Perspective Transformation
The pressures of everyday life pale in comparison to the size and scope of nature. And perspective changes everything.
We uncharacteristically gather on balconies and talk to total strangers. We have conversations over breakfast and give directions to some sight we just found like we are park rangers or mountain sherpas. It’s like some atrophied part of us is reborn with the river’s song.
And we bring our dogs.
Because we love to watch them come alive with the joy of exploring and smelling and bounding through their native ground. Every plant has to be smelled or tasted or marked with scent. They are spent with play and collapse into exhausted sleep where they chase birds and rabbits in their dreams.
Don’t try to tell me it’s all just a random accident. You don’t believe it.
You respond to the call of the wild with the same intensity as your dog. You feel the need to explore. You clamber into the crisp water and float downstream on a tube, soaking up the sun. You have to reach out to feel the softness of a leaf or rub the sturdy roughness of a massive stone.
You hike to a waterfall and crane your neck to see the top. Your skin contracts and your hair stands on end when the wind shifts and the cold mist drifts over you.
The Storyteller
You feel the kinship, the sense of attachment. You know that you belong to this place like a long-lost child.
Accident? Don’t bother. You’re not fooling anyone. It’s just a lie you tell yourself to keep from imagining the obvious truth of this unwritten story – the truth that the story you stand in has an author who knows you better than you know yourself.
You’re trying to avoid the uncomfortable feeling that you have a part to play. Some responsibility. That you owe a debt for who and what you are. That you can’t escape some ancient essence that sings along with nature’s haunting song.
And you daydream at your desk when you return from your vacation, knowing that some part of you didn’t come back. Because it found a long-forgotten home in some quiet green place and will remain there for the rest of your days.
Wilderness Guide
Jesus left the clamoring crowds to stride alone into the wilderness. Even He needed to seek the soft whisper of a Father’s encouraging voice. He needed to be refreshed by the beauty of His presence where creation itself sang the truth of God’s overwhelming power. By his own actions, he pointed us toward the life-giving source of all our blessings.
He promised peace beyond all understanding when we answer the call.
God is the great mystery behind all mysteries. You do not need my words to convince you. You can seek for yourself and find the answer to your questions. You can hear His still, small voice inside. You can receive the healing power within your own immune system. You can walk with your Father in the wilderness and be refreshed.
Once you have heard His voice you will always recognize it. Every bird you see will remind you. Every rock and tree will be a steadfast witness. And you will understand that you have always walked in His world.
Every mouthful you eat comes from His pantry. Every drop of water was purified by His clouds. Every breath of oxygen was minted in His forest. Every plant was rooted in His soil.
Lord of the Wilderness
Jesus spoke and calmed the seas and His disciples were dumbstruck. He spoke and cursed the fig tree that produced no fruit. He called to a silent tomb and Lazarus came forth, alive for all to see.
He also presided over your birth. He provided for your growth. You can trust Him with your life.
This is the story you hear in the wind and water: a reflection of the Creator. It is a tale passed on, not by word of mouth, but from God to your own ears, to the heart beating within you. A resonance of the divine spark in each of us from the Father of us all.
[Photo by Dennis Ritchie ©2021]
