Her, she.

My favorite landscape in this phase of life is the mountains. Before the beach and the ocean, the forest, and the desert: mountains.

When hiking Kilimanjaro, I talked to nature for the first time. It humbled me. I now talk to trees and hug them. And I talk to the mountain. She’s a she. She teaches me how to stand tall, to find stability, to be strong, but in a quiet way. And to not mess with her. We owe her utmost respect.

I was walking on Vancouver Island among 800-year-old trees. “Are you a nature person?” they ask. As if that tree hasn’t been there before us, before you and me, before all these systems we’ve put into place. Inefficient systems. As if she won’t still be here when we’ll be long gone. “But we have consciouness and broader intelligence”, they say, to reclaim face.

“Are you sure about that?” I reply. Did you know that in forests, the roots of trees communicate to send nutrients to the one most in need? Have you noticed how a plane imitates a bird’s wings? She is not greedy. She is fair.

Sometimes I do think we are seperate to nature, just like an invasive weed, an invasive species. We need her, but she does not need us.

We will never outsmart nature. She is more powerful and intelligent than us. And I can’t wait until we all listen to her.

How to live. To follow viable paces. How to distribute in the most efficient way.

She’s been there all along, watching us run around in circles trying to figure it out. Burning the place completely down in the process.

The sun in the sky is red now. From the flames down South.

The only reasonable excuse to continue posting online would be that in my mind, beauty attracts attention. And through beauty impactful messages can be passed along. And people might be inclined to listen more since beauty communicates in a non-provocative and non-violent way.