Simultaneously I Am Myself, The

The Concept Of Conservation Is A Far Truer Sign Of Civilization Than That Spoilation Of A Continent Which We Once Confused With Progress.

There's An Elegiac Quality In Watching [american Wilderness] Go, Because It's Our Own Myth, The American Frontier, That's Deteriorating Before Our Eyes. I Feel A Deep Sorrow That My Kids Will Never Get To See What I've Seen, And Their Kids Will See Nothing; There's A Deep Sadness Whenever I Look At Nature Now.

Soon The Child’s Clear Eye Is Clouded Over By Ideas And Opinions, Preconceptions, And Abstractions. Simple Free Being Becomes Encrusted With The Burdensome Armor Of The Ego. Not Until Years Later Does An Instinct Come That A Vital Sense Of Mystery Has Been Withdrawn. The Sun Glints Through The Pines And The Heart Is Pierced In A Moment Of Beauty And Strange Pain, Like A Memory Of Paradise. After That Day, We Become Seekers.

It's A Simplification To Say That The Men [during Stone Age] Went To War To Maintain Their Dominance Over The Women. The Men Would Help Dig Agricultural Ditches Because They Were Superb Farmers. That Was Very Heavy Lifting Work. But Then They Just Preened Themselves, And Put Bird-of-paradise Plumes [in Their Hair], And Smoked Dope.

The Sun Is Roaring, It Fills To Bursting Each Crystal Of Snow. I Flush With Feeling, Moved Beyond My Comprehension, And Once Again, The Warm Tears Freeze Upon My Face. These Rocks And Mountains, All This Matter, The Snow Itself, The Air- The Earth Is Ringing. All Is Moving, Full Of Power, Full Of Light.