When Last Did You Hear Nature Speak

I should reverence the cry of the eagle in the wilderness as much as any church made prayer. For shall I not be as near to God beside a mountain lake as breaking fast in a restaurant after church? That which separates us from our God is exactly that which prevents us from getting back to the garden; we were expelled because we wouldn't listen.

We hear but do not understand, we see but do not perceive.

But nature speaks as deep calls to deep

And we -

we bask in the shallows.

There be three things which are too wonderful for me, yea, four which I know not: The way of an eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a rock; the way of a ship in the midst of the sea; and the way of a man with a maid. *

Do we know things, or do we know the way?

We are like little Satan’s seeking to say to one another, “all these things I will give you if you will do as I desire…" not that we would give, for we seek what we may take through flattery and empty words and broken promises. Surely, he who has the most toys wins?

When, last, did you hear words of iron, straight and true?

Nature is truth, in its way - an unchanging law.

When last did you hear nature speak?

Every man’s ways are right in his own eyes and so we reside in our dominions of truth…the shores of each awash in the ebb and flow of the human tide, turning our black and white into endless shades of grays.

And gray, at length, we go down unto the dust and our truths with us ~ for in spite of all we say or do the laws of nature still abide. And have we, comes the time, found the one thing we may take with us when we go? Have we found our soul?

Are we acquainted with or do we know the beauties that make our souls to sing –
and pursued them that we had life and not just lived?

Have we given such that the soul expands and heart takes wing?

Is our heart song the song of the lark upon the meadow or within us does a caged bird sing?

Are our steps paces in an endless trudge, without purpose or direction, or do we walk content in whatever drum beat we may follow? For each rises to his own path every day and in the end each shall finish in his own way ~ though the destination is the same. And what is the measure between here and there? With each sunrise we may choose the way

Do we not know our own? If we have dominion, who captain’s our soul?

Did He not say partake of life?

I seek for the garden that I might rest in the shade of the tree.