John Muir quotes

One of the best ways to see tree flowers is to climb one of the tallest trees and to get into close tingling touch with them, and then look broad

Between every two pines is a doorway to a new world

The mountains are calling and I must go

As long as I live, I’ll hear waterfalls and birds and winds sing. I’ll interpret the rocks, learn the language of flood, storm, and the avalanche. I’ll acquaint myself with the glaciers and wild gardens, and get as near the heart of the world as I can.

The power of imagination makes us infinite

Sheep, like people, are ungovernable when hungry

When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe

In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks

Nature is ever at work building and pulling down, creating and destroying, keeping everything whirling and flowing, allowing no rest but in rhythmical motion, chasing everything in endless song out of one beautiful form into another

I am losing precious days. I am degenerating into a machine for making money. I am learning nothing in this trivial world of men. I must break away and get out into the mountains to learn the news.

Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity

I’d rather be in the mountains thinking of god, than in church thinking about the mountains

Keep close to nature’s heart… and break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean.

The sun shines not on us but in us. The rivers flow not past, but through us. Thrilling, tingling, vibrating every fiber and cell of the substance of our bodies, making them glide and sing. The trees wave and the flowers bloom in our bodies as well as our souls, and every bird song, wind song, and tremendous storm song of the rocks in the heart of the mountains is our song, our very own, and sings our love.

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Too far off road, uneasy sounds of an industrial site

 

2018/07

Furs, feathers, skins, and bullfrogs

I miss the woolly mammoths
They look so majestic in the waning sunlight
How do little mammals survive arctic winters?
I wanna distribute shelters to all of them
Poor shivering babies
They’re all so amazing and it’s wondrous to
Acknowledge that they live and accompany us
In this world; so diverse
From deserts to forests
Where a bullfrog lives
Under a green canopy in paradise
Content with zen eyes

Street dogs and humans

Amid a pack of male dogs who gather around a female and have a hormonal frenzy, there’s also a street dog who walks besides a human that he claimed, or that claimed him, vice versa. They sit on the stairs to the closed store at night outside, and when the human figures that it’s time to head back home to his shitty life, the street dog gets up and walks next to him. They walk slowly at night; the man with both his hands in his pockets, and the dog agilely on his four little legs. They disappear into the dark. There’s packs of dogs in different gangs who cry together at night, who howl by the moon, and little rascals who tip toe cunningly inbetween moving street car lights. They sit by the roads, they walk with the humans. They bark at each other when there’s disputes with other four legged archnemeses. The world flows like a dog that zig zags inbetween cars and moving people. The world chills like the dogs that cuddle next to dirt by the side of the road. There’s humans who walk on four limbs from disabilities, and there’s dogs who walk on three limbs from injuries. Yet they’re just there; chillin like villians. These dogs are so smart and badass; even if they may have a short life span. It’s much better than getting your balls cut off and being put on a leash or cooped up inside containment for the rest of your life. Or get put to sleep by the hands that feeds them. The street dogs always seem a bit rough, but they’re so much wiser and free. Life isn’t easy for them, but that’s what makes them striking.

Harsh realities of losing hope

Worn out and walking around
Trying to open my eyes. All around, there’s the blind leading the blind and chickens with their heads cut off; whatever you want to call them.

I’m caught in a slew of nothingness, or just too many things happening all at once. There’s no fine balance,
but a brutal divide.

Cruel capitalist world for someone whose heart is set on riding a hay wagon. You may think “that’s so 1800s,” but I developed roots from parts of the world that still do that. That’s where my heart is… in the simple things, primitive basic work, hand sewn clothes… and the utter desire to feel human. I wash my hair with rye flour to do that.

But I’m hit with the harsh realities that people have been hit with
During the time of the agricultural revolution
Or the industrial revolution
Or the capitalist sweep and the degradation of everything.

I’m standing still in the moving crowd. The business people are actively, actively seeking to destroy the environment for imaginary money and fast cars. The civilian stomach growls,
waiting to be fed cheese and bacon. Majority of the world sleeps inhaling the comforting scent of synthetic compounds, and the rest of the world is headed there.

In days like these I feel hopeless. Like an ant holding onto a massive leaf. An insect trying to crawl against a landslide…
A drop of sunshine during mid winter.
A handful of crowd against a multi-billion population.

What I have to say is so meaningless.

Green slice of heaven

Maybe when I’m bedridden one day I’ll remember the days when I could move and do whatever I wanted to do; go out in nature, be active, ride my bicycle through the off roads. Lay in the fields, be as naked as I could be
Let the air kiss and lick my salty skin; so full of sweat
Let my hair flow long with the winds

Immerse one’s self with the grass and the weeds; turning into something green
Let bugs crawl, sting, and pinch
All over goosebumps
Be one with it all
Unlock the love that you have in your gut and let it spread into everything and everyone
Kiss the trees
Whisper to the butterflies
Chuckle at the hares that hop on by
Touch yourself
Feel your smooth skin
Appreciate, cry
Here today, gone tomorrow
Look at the sky
My heaven
Is a slice of green earth right here

Watching nature, this is what I live for