I am a different person when I walk our land. The birdsong and wind’s whisper are seen even more than heard. Every cactus needle and yucca tell a pointed tale. The roadrunners are leaning forward into their runs. A thousand firewheels orchestrate a symphony of swaying waves. And yellow blooms breathe in-out, in-out, in-out lungfuls of air. I have not found it yet out here but somewhere there is the pulse of a beating heart.
“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.” ~ John Muir