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Charles Darwin wrote to his cousinWilliam in 1831: “It strikes me, that allour knowledge about the structure ofour Earth is very much like what an oldhen [would] know of the hundred-acrefield in a corner of which she is scratch-ing.”

Many people who look for spiritualinsights or theological guidance go toreligious “authorities” past and present.Voices both written and spoken. Attimes, I refer to them myself. Mostly I goto more natural sources, more earthlyauthorities. To me, their authority re-sides in their ability to scratch my curi-osity and peck at the questions in thebarnyard.

Outside my door I noticed somethingodd about an old flowerpot sitting on afaded green deck chair. Slowly ap-proaching, I saw a bird’s nest inside thepot. Flora meets fauna. Planting eggslike planting seeds. The ingenuity ofwild creatures.

Sitting on a boulder by the Yellow-stone River one evening, a coyote cametrotting down the trail. Initially shedidn’t see me, but then stopped cold inher tracks. We stared for a long minute.She turned and backtracked up the riv-er.

One lesson linking these encountersis, as these things tend to be: surprise –startling delight. Moments like thesemake me wonder: What’s going onhere? Now, this is different. That’sstrange. In other words, they make me“think.” I feel something too. The wildencounters cause me to feel I’m in thepresence – not of a “Presence” but in thepresent moment with something,someone, not human, yet kin. Evidenceof the woven nest of humanity and wild-ness.

What do these observations and ex-periences in nature have to teach aboutspiritual things? I’d have to say nothingin particular, unless by “spiritual” onemeans learning more about the wondersof our world. In that case, let’s dispensewith that word and simply call it what itis: education based on direct experi-

ence. And perhaps from that we mightgain some wisdom.

This week is John Muir’s 182nd birth-day. Born in Dunbar, Scotland in 1838,Muir’s adventurous life took him intomany “temples” including YosemiteValley, Glacier Bay as well as the Ama-zon, Africa and beyond. Like Darwin,Muir gleaned an incredible amount ofknowledge as he sailed and saunteredthe globe.

What Muir brought back to us fromhis travels near and far was somethingtranscending religion and faith. He didnot enter these natural cathedrals in or-der to go beyond them but to sink deeperinto them and participate in the wild-ness. There was no other world thatdrew his eyes upward. To him, the dirtwas divine, though in my opinion hissense of “divine” was not strictly theo-logical.

In January, 1870, he scribbled theseamazing words in his journal, imaginingwhat he would do if released from hisbody to “ramble on spirit wings.” Hewouldn’t be interested in flying off to the

moon or sun – to journey to other worldsor heavens. “I should hover about thebeauty of our own good star.” He wouldbe drawn to the depths of the oceansand descend to the very center of theearth. “But my first journeys would beinto the inner substance of the flowers,and among the folds and mazes of Yo-semite’s falls.” Then, this humbling pas-sage, echoing Darwin’s hen in the barn-yard: “Alas, how little of the world issubject to human senses!”

We know so little yet pretend weknow so much. In truth, we hardly knowwhat’s just outside our door or what ourbrain contains. We make pronounce-ments about the world or even the uni-verse but don’t honestly know whatwe’re saying – we don’t even knowwhat’s in a droplet let alone the ocean, acell let alone the solar system.

Taking to heart what Darwin, Muirand other explorers and students of thenatural world suggest, we ought to atleast be aware that we are, for the mostpart, hens scratching in a corner of anunknown field. Can anyone claim abso-

lute authority in knowledge of our cor-ner, or the field itself, let alone whateveris beyond or beyond still in a heavenlyrealm? “How little of the world” and howlittle is our knowledge, and are we.

Muir’s favorite poet, Robert Burns,offers these lines to ponder:

“Reader, attend! whether thy soul,Soars fancy’s flights beyond the pole, Ordarkling grubs this earthly hole, In lowpursuit: Know, prudent, cautious, self-control, Is wisdom’s root” (“A Bard’sEpitaph”). Muir must have been recitingthis poem while sauntering andscratching around those mountainwilds, rambling on “spirit wings,” thatis, on fancy’s flights into the heights anddepths of that hundred-acre field, out tothe furthest reaches of our mysteriousuniverse.

Chris Highland served as a Protes-tant minister and interfaith chaplainfor many years. He is a teacher, writer,freethinker and humanist celebrant.Chris and his wife Carol, a Presbyterianminister, live in Asheville. Learn more atchighland.com.

Scratching around a corner of the Earth

John Muir’s adventurous life took him into many “temples” including Yosemite Valley, Glacier Bay, shown above, as well asthe Amazon, Africa and beyond. SUBMITTED BY CHRIS HIGHLAND

Highland ViewsChris Highland

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