"We are born in certain conventional enclosures, and seldom develop sufficient natural wildness to jump and wriggle out of them, like chickens dying in the shell. A labyrinth of winding and circular tracks have been gradually laid down, and we all like sheep are prone to follow one another, age after age, . . . hungry and begrimed, while the pure heavens shower down blessings in vain. If people were compelled on pain of death to flee to the mountains only once in a lifetime, those who discovered the universal beauty would return again and again to nature's enriching fountains, and thus many a vague longing and gnawing unrest would be satisfied."
The Contemplative John Muir, p. 211
Photo: A snowy day at Fern Lake, Rocky Mountain National Park, CO; February 1, 2013
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