Originally posted by epiphinehas
I was just wondering if anyone else on here has seen the BBC series, Planet Earth, narrated by David Attenborough? I know that nature itself straddles the dividing lines between all belief systems (or lack thereof), and I figured it'd be nice to discuss nature for once in the Spirituality Forum (please, no evolution talk). Share your relationshi hout a heart, but nevertheless its design instills in me nothing less than awe and wonder.
Nature is not one-sided. Nature is the source of life as well as death, flourishing as well as decay, joy as well as pain. I think it is an error to believe that one ought to be exempt, that one species is by its nature entitled to an exemption.
A number of years ago, my wife and I moved to the country to be more in touch with it. When you walk through the forest, you become aware of being noticed by the non-human creatures. I once walked a ways parallel with a coyote—until our eyes met. She had noticed me and I had noticed her, but it was only when she noticed that I had noticed that she broke into a trot and veered away.
We have seldom seen the bobcat (and don’t know how large is his range); I wonder how many more times he has seen us. He once sat quite openly at the corner of our yard, where the ridge trail comes down.
A red-tail hawk circles high in the sky. I point to it: immediately it wheels away over the ridge. You learn to watch for rattlesnakes; you learn that the black kingsnakes are your allies.
I don’t want to press it too much. We are not living in a lean-to. We have our very human habitat within the larger habitat. We share. In the springtime, I have morning coffee while both the birds and myself pick and eat wild cherries from the same tree.
A couple of years ago, a doe brought her wounded fawn each day to lie beneath the large tree just outside the kitchen (we think it is perhaps a cross between a Bradford Pear and a Hawthorn), so that it can could eat what had fallen from the tree while the mother browsed nearby at the edge of the woods. Each evening, she would lead him off; we could see that he had an injured leg. On the fourth day, the fawn was lying there, but the doe was nowhere to be seen. Late in the afternoon, I approached the fawn, and discovered that in the night it had had its hind leg torn away—possibly by a coyote or a dog; it tried to get up and run away, but couldn’t. I put it down, and carried the carcass up on the ridge. Nature’s clean-up crew takes care of the rest.
How interesting that that doe brought her fawn there. We would go out of the house, walk around, do our chores, go back inside—all within, say, no more than 30 yards, and often within 10—and they paid us no mind.
We had a cat who could stroll right through a flock of wild turkeys without the least disturbance: they had come to some understanding.
The following excerpts are from a book I am reading, called The Blood Runs Like a River Through My Dreams
, by Nasdijj.
Nature gives. Nature watches. Nature evaporates and disappears. There is a relentless spirit to the beauty in nature. There is death, too. There is no waste in nature. Not a shred. Everything is food.
. . .
My Navajo map does not explain the why of anything. What is, is.
. . .
The wilderness always takes back what it creates. The wilderness can be a generous goddess, or she can withhold her favors. She can be avaricious when she wants to be begrudging. She is hard-handed and uncharitable. It is not incumbent on life to evolve into happily ever after. Take your happiness while you can. What you have are moments.