Despite who we have been or may yet become, every one of us becomes the forest, struggling to embrace a perfect balance of being.
Religious elements of national parks may not be obvious, but visitors’ experiences rely to some extent on traditions of religious travel and religio-aesthetic interpretations.
Wilderness is a fantasy of human desires born of a false binary of wild nature without people. But imagining wilderness might deliver us to a new geography of hope.
At many tourist sites, authenticity reigns as the holy grail of the religious quest, a sacred commodity positioned to seduce touristic desires.
I last ate meat on Thanksgiving Day of 2014. Vegetarianism has made my life simpler. It also has made me healthier, and I feel less culpable in our culture of slaughter.
Today my father turns 85, and he remains a living presence that continues to teach and inspire for those who pay attention.
This week a rotten tree fell hard in the forest. Many thousands were there to witness its undoing, but no one heard the crash. Not even the tree realized it had fallen.
The detourist welcomes unanticipated changes in course, regards the derailment of one’s intentions and ambitions as a normal and agreeable opportunity.
Can we be passionate about whatever circumstances life serves up to us? What bliss might we discover wherever we are, whatever we are doing, whoever we are with?
We have much to be angry about, and good reason to be sad. But neither sadness nor anger alone have much effect for lasting change in the world.
Mountains of data about climate change are not enough to rouse people from complacency. We need more imaginative, creative ways of addressing the human impact on the global environment.
Artist Donald Judd concluded, “Art is everything at once.” I would expand on his insight. We are all artists all the time, making the greatest works of art imaginable in our very being.