We are so close to the earth that we often forget it is alive. And the language of its aliveness is what we call nature. When we listen to nature we are listening to the earth. Of course, such a conversation takes time because we are too small to readily grasp what the earth has to say. The vast earth has carried us our whole lives. Can we thank it? It has held up and endured everything for thousands of years. Can we ask it how? It speaks with a thousand tongues none of which uses words. Yet, to build up a relationship with that which holds us up seems essential.
Mark Neppo, Seven Thousand Ways To Listen
May I see the Creator in creation.
Does the reflection seem fanciful to you? Try listening to the earth speak through “a thousand tongues none of which uses words.”
Ask the beasts, and they will teach you; the birds of the heavens, and they will tell you.
Just as happens when we fall in love with someone, whenever St. Francis would gaze at the sun, the moon or the smallest of animals, he burst into song, drawing all other creatures into his praise. He communed with all creation, even preaching to the flowers, inviting them to praise the Lord, just as if they were endowed with reason.
Trees are the earth’s endless effort to speak to the listening heaven.
The earth has music for those who listen.
Our difficulty is that we have become autistic. We no longer listen to what the Earth, its landscape, its atmospheric phenomena and all its living forms, its mountains and valleys, the rain, the wind, and all the flora and fauna of the planet are telling us.
How glorious a greeting the sun gives the mountains!
God writes the gospel not in the Bible alone, but on trees and flowers and clouds and stars.
And how should a beautiful, ignorant stream of water know it heads for an early release — out across the desert, running toward the Gulf, below sea level, to murmur its lullaby, and see the Imperial Valley rise out of burning sand with cotton blossoms, wheat, watermelons, roses, how should it know?
The poetry of the earth is never dead.
Shall I not have intelligence with the earth? Am I not partly leaves and vegetable mould myself.
Henry David Thoreau
In June as many as a dozen species may burst their buds on a single day. No man can heed all of these anniversaries; no man can ignore all of them.
Nature holds all the answers — go outside and ask some questions — open your heart and listen to the response!