Two of America’s most heralded naturalist writers are John Muir and Edward Abbey, and for good reason. Through words, they illustrated the beauty of America’s natural wonders and did it so eloquently that a reader of their works feels drawn into the landscapes observed, while simultaneously feeling like the writer is experiencing something beyond an earthly plane.
Out of Reach?
Sometimes I wonder if their poetic dissertations make the great wilderness seem like a place we can’t touch, or rightly know. That if an individual goes surfing the visitor gift shop at one of our national parks, and comes across one of their books, they might skim a few words and find the writing too heady. Too “out there.” Too meditative. An impressionist painting of words, without any clear narrative to pull them through.
I wonder if too many of us distance ourselves from such writing because it feels like it’s irrelevant, or boring, or beyond our comprehension. It takes so much time to look inward, and sometimes we don’t like what we see. Maybe such writings don’t make us feel worthy, and so we distance ourselves from them, and from nature, as a result.
Just a Feeling
None of these thoughts come from anything concrete—just a feeling I sometimes get. That the idea of disconnecting from society, as Muir and Abbey did, is so weird and wrong, society says “that’s nice, but don’t do what they did.” You can look at their books. Even try to read them, if you can understand what they are saying. But otherwise, stick to the gift shop, take a picture of the view, and figure out where you’re going to go for lunch.
We have a history of independents in this country, of wilderness seekers who can’t fully be understood. Rebels and loners, going it alone, against the grain. Christopher McCandless of Into the Wild lore is one that comes to mind. Robert Redford’s depiction of Jeremiah Johnson is another. We regard these individuals with curiosity and awe, but think little of trying to understand them. Or to be like them. I wonder if we had more stories of regular people trying to commune with nature, the rest of us would try it more.
While stories of Joe Schmoe fumbling about the trail and trying to find a place to go to the bathroom in the woods aren’t as alluring as the Muir canvas of words, if we had more stories like that, maybe the great outdoors wouldn’t seem so scary. Maybe more of us would head out into nature, attempt mountains or at least long trails, and reap the benefits of doing so. Maybe we’d be healthier as a nation. Mentally and physically. Maybe so many of us wouldn’t be worried about extracting what we can out of nature for our comfortable lives back home; we’d realize that full comfort comes from connection with the world around us, understanding we are all part of one living organism.