"Life in the mountains is living in danger of too many people too many machines."

I have often found the hidden meanings of life and all of its wonderful blessings while hiking across nature's leathery face—in the deep crevasses that make up her laugh lines or the foot paths and worn arteries that wind through her soul. Seemingly moving to my own rhythm, I am reminded that I am but a cog in the movement of all mankind. In these times of bliss, nature teaches me that we are all connected in a oneness that was here well before our eyes ever caught the first glimpse of her radiant beauty. The presence of nature and all she gives to us is the power that lives in us all.

These moments can come with a revelation as loud and as noticeable as the crack of thunder as it echoes through the canyons or softly whispered to us using a secret code carried in the wind and manifested in the form of recently opened wild flowers. Nature can and will flood our consciousness with raindrops of truth and serenity if we are but wise enough to grant her passage into our lives.

We often take it for granted, this beauty, this nature. We race through life without taking time to notice what has been provided for us, until of course it is taken away—stripped from our consciousness like a child who loses a toy.

When I gaze at the majestic and understand that I am but a passenger in this wonder, I allow myself to absorb all the beauty and grace that has been given to me—free of charge—no strings attached. I can lay at rest all my concerns about tomorrow and just focus on a tiny blade of grass, a western sunset or the clean crisp air flowing through my lungs. Nature cleanses me from a multitude of sins. Nature makes me whole again.

I am but a visitor in this world that animals call home. An unwanted guest in the living room of the wild places, where man has forced his presence at the risk of destroying it all. I tread gently on this turf and pray that my intrusion upon this magical place will be as unnoticed as footprints on pine needles or wind on sand.

I am grateful to be part of this beauty, if only as a bystander awash in a musical repertoire of songs written from the heart of God. I seek to understand its meaning, knowing full well that it may not be mine to know. But I am comfortable with the unknowing, the blind journey, for it is there that I find the curious contentment of a thirst quenched, a soul saved.

Driven with a desire to connect to the rivers and streams that flow abundant with the history of my existence, I as a human being, reach out for need of nothing but seemingly want for everything. In return, I am given the gift of abundance and knowledge and truth—nature will and does provide in ways often unseen. I touch her face with gentleness and caress the beauty that lies at my feet...

It is, without warning, that the trance is broken—the dream shattered—the truth revealed. Just up ahead in a clearing, obscured by dark shadows and the awful stench of something dying, the machinery can be seen—the sound of destruction can be heard. The cuts, the scars, the bleeding—deep wounds made to the earth's surface by greedy men with visions of shopping malls and track housing. Everyday stealing just a little more, just another piece from what was once untouched and serene. A cry for help rings out from the forest from all of those with hoofed feet or majestic wings—the earth speaks to those we think cannot, those who were here first. A silent tear is shed but goes unnoticed by the vast majority of humans, those with better things to do.

Because of our ignorance and false need to improve what is already perfect, we have begun to take away the only reference we have to heaven on earth—God's original work of art—the wonderful tranquility and awesome beauty of nature. The machines of destruction rage on ripping our mother earth apart-while we look the other way, focused on corporate profits, quickly calculating how many more homes can be built and sustained with the water that remains in her veins. We rape her repeatedly and leave her to die. My knees weaken. My stomach turns. The thought of it all leaves me gagging with self-disgust.

For the first time I realize that my own lack of involvement has allowed this tragedy to happen. I and all of my brothers and sisters who share in what nature has bestowed upon us, have allowed those among us who would steal our precious resources, to destroy the peace and make war with the earth. We pretend we do not see the laws that are written, the handshakes—eyes winking—as deals are cut, money exchanged. Our ignorance is fuel for the fire that seeks to burn down and destroy the vast mountain wilderness we call our home.

Will this be the legacy our generation will leave to our children? How far will we let it go? How long will it continue before we realize enough is enough? The heavy equipment continues to cut a path of destruction through our forests at alarming rates while we look on as if we have no other choice than to let the bleeding continue. But we do have a choice. We can make a difference.

Of all the tears we've cried in our life times—tears of joy, tears of sorrow, tears of pain—perhaps it is time to shed a tear that matters. One that can be heard as it extinguishes the flames that seek to destroy what is only ours to borrow. A tear that says, "We will no longer stand by and watch as the mountains are leveled, the air polluted, the water contaminated, nature destroyed." Extinction is indeed forever. The time to act is now.

Some Things To Consider

Get outside and take a hike through the forest. Find a quiet place, be still and just notice the world around you. Notice any animals that might be near by and watch as they go about their day. Breathe deeply and pay attention to the scent of the trees and the fragrance of the flowers. If it's winter, embrace the beauty of the snow and see if you can hear it as it falls from the sky and kisses the ground. Now, make a pact with yourself that you will begin doing this at least once a week, every week, for the rest of your life.

All Rights Reserved © 2002 By Jeffrey Alan Hall