Tag: nature

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Ethical Lessons From the Sierra Nevada

Fresno Bee, August 11, 2016

While this tumultuous summer unfolded, I was high in the Sierra Nevada. Former President Donald Trump survived an assassination attempt. Current President Joe Biden gave way to Vice President Kamala Harris. The stock market tumbled, but in the great mountains of California, the rocks and rivers took no notice.

The majestic indifference of the wild is humbling. In the backcountry, ethical wisdom teaches modesty, moderation, compassion, and courage.

The primary lesson is that nothing human lasts. We are temporary visitors on this planet. The mountains were here before our species evolved. They endured while wars and revolutions passed. They will remain when we are extinct.

Wild nature mocks our hopes and dreams. The ice that carved Yosemite over millions of years was a thousand feet deep. The planets move in a cycle that lasts 26,000 years. But human civilizations only appeared 6,000 years ago. And every human being we know will be dead in 100 years.

The scale of the wild can overwhelm. But in being overwhelmed, we can also find freedom and inspiration. Nature transcends the buzzing clamor of political life. In the human world, each moment appears as a crisis. The news assails us with tales of mayhem and wickedness. Our screens flash and whine. And we find ourselves seized by anxiety and seduced by passion.

But the rhythm of the seasons is steady and true. The melting ice flows down familiar channels every summer. And the snow returns in the fall. Human-generated climate change may impact this relentless cycle. But even if the waters dry up, the granite will endure.

The wild reminds us that everything human is shallow and fleeting. Only when we acknowledge the vast indifference of things can we think clearly about what counts as living well.

Out on the trail, an ethic emerges. Its first commandment is humble self-reliance. Once you leave the trailhead, you must be self-sufficient. Every choice you make is your responsibility. No one will save you if you fall. You must understand your limitations. Be prepared. And keep your wits about you.

You carry your means of life on your back. What you can’t carry, you must leave behind. And so, simplicity emerges as a commandment. Our closets and minds brim with unnecessary stuff. But on the trail, spare socks are a luxury. And cold, clear water is as good as wine. What do you really need?

There is also friendship on the trail. One of the great joys of hiking is the camaraderie of those who walk together. And the strangers you meet in the outback are almost always kind and joyful. Compassion emerges easily in the backcountry.

But this friendly sociality also respects solitude. Be kind. But mind your own business. Keep your voice down and leave others alone. If someone is lost or in trouble, help them. But don’t insist. Everyone hikes at their own pace.

Remarkably, those who are hiking the farthest appear to be the happiest. In my relatively short trips this summer, I met a handful of hardy souls walking the entirety of the Pacific Crest and John Muir Trails. They were almost always smiling. When the rain and lightning come, they laugh. Good humor is as much of a necessity in the mountains as are courage and fortitude. Without a smile and the will to endure, the trail is punishing and a tent becomes a prison cell.

Finally, as every backpacker knows, you should leave no trace. Humans tend to want to leave a mark. Civilization is a kind of graffiti that has slashed and burned across the planet. The wild places are special because they remain unmarked. Don’t cut the switchbacks. And leave the campsite better than you found it. The next group of hikers, and next generation, will appreciate your moderation and self-restraint.

These same lessons apply in the city and everyday life. Seek to understand the bigger picture. Be humble and self-reliant. Simplify your needs. Be friendly and kind. But also mind your own business. Be courageous and quick to laugh. As you wander this planet, try not to leave a mark. And do your best to leave this world better than you found it.

Read more at: https://www.fresnobee.com/opinion/article290916454.html#storylink=cpy

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Lessons from the Inca Trail about Wonder, Gratitude, and Nature

Searching for wonder in the reality of nature

Fresno Bee, July 29, 2018

Modern human beings are alienated from nature. We live in air-conditioned rooms. We relate to higher things through dry, ancient books. We rarely see the stars or feel the rain. We are rootless.

I have been thinking about our alienation from nature after trekking through the Andes of Peru. The trek ran over high mountain passes, where we endured freezing rain and cold, windy nights. We witnessed wild jungles and wandering llamas. And we celebrated the blessing of sunshine, which gave us warmth and the rainbow.

Our guide paused at the entrance to Machu Picchu to give an offering. He gathered three coca leaves into a shape that represents the mountains. He presented this gift to each of the four directions. He left the coca in a secret niche at the Sun Gate.

It made sense to give thanks to the mountains, to the elements and to the coca that made our journey possible. Coca tea helps fight altitude sickness. Its salutary effect is a kind of magic. There is also magic in the sun’s heat, the river’s song, and the rainbow’s glow.

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Machu Picchu, the Incan citadel set high in the Andes Mountains in Peru. Andrew Fiala Special to The Bee

Religion in its best and original sense comes from the sense of wonder before the power of nature. It reminds us that we belong to the earth. We cannot live without land, water, and sun. These elements combine in the plants and animals that nurture us.

Nature is not all ease and comfort. Forest fires are rampaging in this long hot summer. Snow, rain, and cold are dangerous and difficult. But when the rains come or the sun breaks through, we give thanks.

In aboriginal Andean religion, the earth is a spiritual being called Pachamama, the earth mother. The mountains themselves are spiritual beings called Apus. These are powerful and mercurial beings. They can be dangerous or benevolent. To modern ears, this sounds far-fetched. But many cultures speak of mountains as divinities with personalities.

We still name mountains and understand their personas. In Yosemite there is Half Dome and El Capitan. Their presence is palpable. We also recognize that mountains do things. Climbers and backpackers have a saying: “Mountains make their own weather.” Temperatures change quickly. The wind comes on strong. Fire, rain, and snow are sudden in their appearance.

Modern science explains the orographic effect. Mountains interact with moving air masses. Changes in elevation cause changes in temperature that cause precipitation and swirling winds. Mountain weather is easily explained by atmospheric science.

But scientific explanation does not touch the lived sense that mountains are powerful beings. It makes sense to say that the mountains are angry or friendly. Thunder and lightning are threatening. Forest fires are malicious. Floods are cruel. Gentle blue skies and cool mountain streams are gracious and hospitable.

Much of the magic of nature is local. The sun is wrathful in the desert. It is cheerful in the cold high places. The rain is gentle in the valleys. It is vicious at 13,000 feet.

Those who live and work on the land are in touch with the personality of their local geography. Their livelihood comes from Pachamama. Their well-being depends upon the benevolence of the Apus.

There are very few farmers and shepherds left. We are no longer connected to nature.; we no longer belong to her. We do not know where our water and food come from.

The benefit of civilization is obvious. We dam the rivers and control the fires. We farm on an industrial scale. We drive and fly, instead of walking. We live in comfort and safety.

But this benefit is not without its costs. We are uprooted and dislocated. We lose track of who we are and where we belong. We no longer experience wonder or gratitude in their original organic sense.

This is not to say that we could go back to a world of Apus and the Pachamama. The world has moved on. But it is important to remember what we have left behind. We fill our lives with imitations of reality, flickering on screens. Out there in the natural world, the fires and storms still rage. And it is still possible to experience wonder, fear, and joy in the presence of the real.

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Nature, Beauty, and Morality

The beauty of nature’s wonders can lead to a clearer view of the beauty of morality

Fresno Bee, July 28, 2017

Last week, I wrote about solitude and Yosemite. But solitude is not the only thing that lures us to the mountains. We also seek beauty. Lovers of nature cherish birdsong, gleaming granite and sparkling snow. The rainbow, the lightning and the wildflower fill us with awe and wonder.

The world contains many magical places of immense beauty. If the mountains are not to your taste, then enjoy the redwood forests, the ocean breakers, or the flowing river.

We spend too much time indoors. Americans devote about 10 hours per day to their glowing screens. One danger of this is obesity. As our waistlines expand, our attention spans shorten. The lack of natural beauty in our lives poses a spiritual, aesthetic and ethical danger.

Ethics has long been connected to aesthetics. Plato thought that beauty lifted us toward higher things, encouraging us to give birth to virtue and wisdom.

The good and the beautiful exhibit grace, balance and harmony. Good things have symmetry and order. The ability to experience beauty is connected with the knack for knowing the good.

A key here is what we might call “the aesthetic mood.” In the presence of beauty the mind is attuned to the world in a receptive and reverent fashion. When we pause to wonder at a Half Dome or Yosemite Falls, we shift perspectives. Beauty opens transcendent vistas. It encourages us to see beyond the narrow world of “me and mine.”

Only a perverse soul considers profit in the face of the beautiful. The rest of us smile and celebrate. We are grateful, inspired and humbled.

The beautiful is an end-in-itself. It is priceless and beyond exchange. Beautiful objects should be enjoyed and respected. They have inherent value, dignity and worth. It would be wrong to damage or destroy them.

The parallel with ethics is obvious. Morality requires us to value people for their own sake. Morality asks us to recognize the priceless dignity – and immense beauty – of the human being.

Some claim that all of this comes from God. Theists think that the value of human life is based on the fact that we are created in the image of God. They believe that beauty in this world is a sign of God’s love. John Muir said simply, “No synonym for God is so perfect as Beauty.”

Humanists appreciate beauty and humanity for its own sake. They think that morality and reason give value to life – as does the experience of order and harmony in nature.

Albert Einstein provides an inspiring source of the humanist idea. Einstein said, “Only morality in our actions can give beauty and dignity to life.” He thought that we are held captive by our egos. He explained that we find meaning and hope by “widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.”

Aesthetic experience is an advanced human capacity. Children do seem to have an innate ability to wonder at sound and light. They are also caring and loving. But we have to be taught to see the beautiful, just as we have to learn to value human beings as ends-in-themselves.

That is why it is essential to take kids into nature and show them the beauty of the natural world. They need time away from their screens. They need to stretch their legs and their minds. They need to learn to develop the aesthetic mood. We help them cultivate reverence, humility, gratitude and awe by exposing them to the wonders of nature.

Adults need that too. Natural beauty provides reassurance and hope. Grace and joy are found beyond the depravity of the daily news. The mind is enlivened. The spirit is soothed. We think better and breathe easier in charming landscapes. We are elevated by the sense that this majestic world offers a secret to savor.

This is not selfish escapism. The demands of justice and love always remain. But we all need a refuge to reinvigorate the spirit. Natural splendor strengthens us for the sorrowful and the sordid. In the presence of the beautiful we want to be better people. Beauty inspires us to want to be worthy of this world and its wonders.

http://www.fresnobee.com/living/liv-columns-blogs/andrew-fiala/article163955142.html

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Music At Glacier Point

In  moments of musical beauty, anger melts, hatred dissolves, peace dawns

Fresno Bee, August 27, 2016

WITHOUT HOPEFUL SPLASHES OF JOY, LIFE WOULD BE DULL AND MEANINGLESS.

Last Sunday, the Mariposa Symphony Orchestra performed at Glacier Point in Yosemite National Park. Perched on the edge of a cliff, the orchestra played original pieces composed in honor of Yosemite and the centennial of the National Park Service.

As Half Dome blushed in the setting sun, Yosemite’s granite gorges resounded with song. At dusk, a bat danced above the bassoons. After the last echo faded, a shooting star flashed into view. It quickly vanished into darkness.

img_0469-1Beauty is fleeting. It shines and echoes for a moment. Then it is gone. Youthful brilliance becomes old age. Summer sun gives way to winter winds. Music always returns into silence.

The fragility of beauty is a reminder of mortality. But beauty also soothes and reassures. Wonder and joy arouse our better angels. Natural splendor and human art make life worth living.

The concert at Glacier Point honored the 100th anniversary of the National Park Service, whose work conserves the wild wonders of our continent. Some Park Service employees also play in the Mariposa orchestra. How cool for those rangers to serenade the park they love.

The arts and Yosemite

One might think it odd to stage a symphony at Glacier Point. But according to Yosemite spokesman Scott Gediman, “From the signing of the Yosemite Grant to the present day, the arts have played a significant role in the creation and continued interest in preserving these public places.”

Yosemite sparkles in Ansel Adams’ photos. It is illuminated by John Muir’s prose. Yosemite has a new artistic champion in Les Marsden, the conductor of the Mariposa orchestra.

Marsden composed a complex cycle of four pieces to honor Yosemite and the Park Service. Marsden’s compositions are classically American, reminiscent of Aaron Copland. The music told the history of the national parks. It imitated wind, water, fire and animal life.

As Marsden’s dynamic baton came to rest and the music faded into silence, you could hear crickets chirping and birds singing. I was struck by the thought that human art is a response to nature’s call. The human imagination swells in the presence of Half Dome. Birdsong tickles our ears. Thunder quickens the heart. And Yosemite Falls provokes laughter and shouts.

WITHOUT HOPEFUL SPLASHES OF JOY, LIFE WOULD BE DULL AND MEANINGLESS.

Poetry, painting and music reflect the wonders of the world. Human art transcends matter. Without the soaring responsiveness of the human spirit the earth would be quiet and dull.

John Muir said, “Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul alike.” Muir explained that gardens and parks satisfy our “natural beauty-hunger.” We plant flowers, tend our gardens, and visit parks looking for inspiration and consolation.

Muir claimed that natural beauty comforts “nerve-shaken, over-civilized people.” For Muir, mountain parks are “fountains of life.” Their sublime wonder stirs the spirit.

Fountains of life

Art and music are also fountains of life. The arts encourage us to savor the world.

One of my colleagues, Thomas Loewenheim, the conductor of the Fresno State SymphonyOrchestra, has confessed his hope that music provides a path toward peace. I think he is right. Music, beauty, art and nature encourage us to transcend our petty differences. They lift us beyond ourselves and bring us together in awe, reverence and delight.

Stand on Glacier Point. Immerse yourself in poetry. Fill your lungs with song. Dig your fingers into the soil. Smell the wonder of flowers. Or simply listen to the birds. The aesthetic mood encourages us to breathe more deeply – to listen, see and feel.

In moments of beauty, anger melts, hatred dissolves and peace dawns. Winter storms will come to the high country. Fires will burn the hills. And madmen rage in the lowlands. But peace is found in beauty. And hope is found in the fragments of color, song, granite and water that we carry in our hearts.

Without hopeful splashes of joy, life would be dull and meaningless. Hallelujah for Yosemite. Hurray for Marsden and the Mariposa symphony.

And thank goodness for the men and women of the Park Service, whose work has preserved nature’s wonders for 100 years. Here’s hoping that the artists, rangers and natural wonders of our world will continue to inspire and console for another century.

Read more here: http://www.fresnobee.com/living/liv-columns-blogs/andrew-fiala/article98045307.html#storylink=cpy
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Don’t Miss Out on the Good Medicine of Nature

Nature, John Muir, and the National Parks

Fresno Bee, October 2, 2015

  • Yosemite and Sequoia national parks are sources of natural beauty
  • John Muir’s philosophy rooted in transcendentalism
  • We all can benefit from making contact with nature

This year marks the 125th anniversary of Sequoia and Yosemite national parks. There are practical reasons for preserving natural areas. Pure water and clean air are obviously useful. Biodiversity and flourishing natural ecosystems serve human interests.

But behind these parks is a philosophical ideal that celebrates the aesthetic and spiritual value of nature. Natural wonders sing to our souls. Yosemite Valley is a marvel. Sierra summits inspire. And the big trees awaken reverence.

Consider this: As the Rough fire raged this summer, firefighters took extra precautions to save sequoia trees. These ancient organisms have a kind of value which should be cherished and protected.

We are not born understanding this. Nature love is a late development. Sequoias were once logged. And a dam destroyed Hetch Hetchy Valley. Practical interests sometimes prevail. But beauty matters as much as business.

One source for this moral and aesthetic ideal is the American philosophical movement known as transcendentalism. The transcendentalists celebrated the spiritual power and wild delight of nature. They worshiped natural beauty, eating clouds and drinking wind, as Ralph Waldo Emerson once put it.

Emerson felt a sense of homecoming and companionship in the presence of nature. He argued that nature was “medicinal,” curing us of the stress of our workaday lives. Emerson disciple Henry David Thoreau dreamed of making direct contact with the mysterious power of nature. Thoreau set off on walking tours in search of contact – one of the original American backcountry hikers.

Emerson and Thoreau inspired John Muir, who brought transcendentalism to Central California. Muir’s enthusiastic nature worship helped create the national parks and the Sierra Club. Emerson himself visited Yosemite in 1871, accompanying Muir to the Mariposa grove of giant sequoias.

Muir said that going to the woods was going home. He described the big trees of the Sierra as superior beings arrived from another star – calm, bright and godlike creatures that leave us awestruck. He described Yosemite Valley as a work of art and a natural temple.

In defense of the national park idea, Muir explained, “Mountain parks and reservations are useful not only as fountains of timber and irrigating rivers, but as fountains of life.”

Muir recognized the practical importance of the mountain ecosystem for the well-being of the rivers and waters of our own Central Valley. But he also thought that mountain grandeur and primeval forests were a source of spiritual power.

Granite cliffs, towering trees and sparkling waterfalls somehow elevate the spirit. They put human concerns in proper perspective. The sequoias have stood silently while entire civilizations have come and gone. The mountains have been carved by forces more powerful than anything homo sapiens could ever devise.

For some, this is alien, intimidating and incomprehensible. Some get vertigo in high places. The natural world is not all wildflowers and rainbows. There are fires and storms and earthquakes as well. But these infernal powers remind us of our fragility and the need to savor beauty when we find it.

Muir worried that people saw forests as weeds to be cleared or timber to be profited from. Today we have a different problem. We often cannot see the forest for the trees – or the trees themselves. We are no longer in contact with the natural world. Much of the time, we are immersed in virtual reality. We would often rather play with our phones and poke our computers than make contact with the world. And we miss out on the good medicine of nature, which offers a cure for the stresses of the human world.

National parks allow us to explore beauty and commune with nature. We should celebrate the inspired and tenacious work of visionaries such as Muir. We should also thank the nameless firefighters and trail-builders whose sweat and blood allows us to enjoy these places in safety.

These parks have a long history – and deep philosophical roots. But 125 years is only a small fraction of the life of a sequoia. It is nothing in comparison with the tempo of glaciers. Let’s hope that these parks last another 125 years so that our great-great-grandchildren may continue to make contact with these awesome fountains of life.

Read more here: http://www.fresnobee.com/living/article37369227.html#storylink=cpy