MAY 30, 2024 – In his recent commencement address at Brandeis University, Ken Burns imparted exceptional wisdom in prose that bordered on poetic. One pearl among the many reflected the famous documentarian’s relationship with nature. He encouraged the graduates to . . .
Be in nature, which is always perfect and where nothing is binary. Its sheer majesty may remind you of your own atomic insignificance, as one observer put it, but in the inscrutable and paradoxical ways of wild places, you will feel larger, inspirited, just as the egotist in our midst is diminished by his or her self regard.
Today all day (except for an hour and a half of legal work but conducted from a relaxing chair on our screened porch) I was “in nature” up at the lake. I repair to this place often, and when I do, I experience exactly what Ken Burns was talking about.
For many hours, I worked on my latest outdoor project: constructing a railing for the staircase that leads down to one of our docks and our “pontoon port.”[1] (See 5/12 – 14/24 posts – “Zen and the Art of Dock Installation”). A steady breeze blew off the lake, keeping insects at bay and pushing an endless parade of waves onto the rocky shoreline below my work area. The sun smiled all day long, but except for brief periods at the foot of the stairs, I was well shaded from the solar brilliance. As I examined the possibilities, combined style with function, took measurements, made cuts, drilled holes, fitted washers and nuts to bolts, I heard the relentless susurration of the pine and saw fresh oak leaves flapping wildly but never letting go. Spend that much time in one spot “in nature,” and you become attuned to its personality, its character, its edifying influence on the soul.
Only quite late in the afternoon did I take a break and hike down to our old family cabin some distance away. My brother-in-law Chuck was himself taking a break from yard work. We chatted for a while about the mechanics of replacing the cutting line on a weed whacker. In the midst of this satisfying exchange, my other brother-in-law Garrison called with the news of the day.
It occurred to me that the defendant now found guilty has never spent much time “in nature.” A chronically angry man, unloved and unloving, with a crushing need to berate and belittle others, he desperately needs a long walk along the seashore or through a forest of old growth timber. He needs to hear the call of the wild, not go wild calling attention to himself.
I returned to my worksite and finished up the project. In self reward, I took the pontoon out for a brief spin, since the breeze had largely spent its earlier force. As the sun slipped toward the northwest horizon, an eagle glided east to west just above the highest treetops standing guard along the shore. For close to a minute I watched—with the same wonder I always do when an eagle flies by. The majestic creature led my sight to a spectacular display of clouds above the silhouetted shoreline along the west end of the lake, then banked off to the north and disappeared behind the tree line. The raptor in search of sustenance had unwittingly given me nourishment of a different kind—but just as vital to my soul as food was to the eagle.
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© 2024 by Eric Nilsson
[1] Railing Project:
