John Denver in 1991
From my earliest memories, I know that I have been drawn to the Earth, seeking solitary places in the out-of-doors as often as I could. As a child, it mattered little whether it was a dusty arroyo, a field of wheat or corn, or the tallest branches of a windswept tree.
Oklahoma wheat field.
They all evoked in me a kind of peace and
kinship. I knew I felt this kinship, but I couldn’t find words to explain it.
Later, as I grew older and gained new skills, I began to explore those feelings
and connections through music.
an arroyo
Whenever I am outside, anywhere, I feel more alive. It is
clear to me that the wild, living places of the Earth are my source of greatest
inspiration. The Earth nourishes me; it teaches me. Metaphors from nature
give me direction, and guide my understanding of all that I hear and feel. This
perspective has been a part of me for as long as I can remember. As I look back
across the dozens of albums I have recorded and the songs I write today, it is
easy to see that the main themes of my work are infused by the love, respect,
and awe I hold for the Earth.
We are ONE
I remember one gorgeous autumn day several years ago when the
members of the Windstar Foundation’s Advisory Board had gathered for an annual
meeting. My dear friend and respected teacher, Stuart Mace, made a comment that
helped me better understand my own lifelong bonding with the Earth.
We were sitting outside in discussion. One person spoke in a
deep and caring way about what he called power points [ley lines] on the Earth.
He held that there are places on the Earth where the manifestation of an
overwhelming power and sacredness seems to transform those who visit. I
listened attentively. I felt that I, too, had experienced that. It was then
that Stuart spoke. “That is perhaps true,” he said, “but in my experience,
little is gained by parceling up the Earth’s sacredness. It is better to
try to see all the earth as sacred.”
North Rim of the Grand Canyon
Stuart’s words burned into my consciousness. It became clear to me that I’ve always felt that way. Those childhood arroyos, trees, and wheat fields are no less precious than the Grand Canyon, the sacred pools in Maui, and my beloved Rocky Mountains.
One of the seven sacred pools on Maui
The future of life on Earth depends on our ability to
see the sacred where the others see only the common -
or worse, in indifference, see nothing at all. In order for us
to create a sustainable future, there is a vital need for us to bring a vision
of the sacred to the commerce of everyday life.
Increasingly, people in North America and many other parts of the industrialized world, live in ways that are separate from nature. Most of us don’t grow the food we eat; we simply go to the store and buy it. We spend time cocooned in buildings, traveling from place to place in vehicles that further isolate us from the natural world.
Without experiencing how the Earth lives and breathes, it becomes more difficult to see the impact of our everyday actions.
John climbing a tree in Somalia, North Africa, in 1984.
So we can’t make informed
decisions about the environment without truly experiencing how it works. We
must feel the elements. We must, at least at times, immerse in the natural
world. There is no better teacher.
In the song Calypso, I wrote “To live on the land, we
must learn from the sea.” We need to take ourselves to the out of-doors and let
the Earth teach us.
I mention all of this as another way of emphasizing the need for
balance. We need intellectual insights to understand how to create a
sustainable future, but we need emotion, spiritual, and physical
connections as well.
·
This insight cannot come to us from experts outside
ourselves. Saving the Earth starts within each one of us. To the extent that
each of us knows the Earth through personal experience, we will truly be more
likely to create a future of health and sustainability.
So when we advocate the need for land use planning, let us also remember the importance of listening to the spirit of the Earth. When we create alternative fuels for our vehicles, let us also remember how to walk and run in the wind and rain. When we put a log in a fireplace or turn on a switch to heat our homes, let us remember the years it took for the tree to grow or the coal to form that warms us today.
It’s all about balance. It begins with hearing the Earth.
-John Denver
Windstar Vision, Jan-Feb 1991

This is beautiful. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteHe writes my feelings
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