On why both solitude
and community are appropriate modes through which to experience a natural
wonder.
If you drive across
the Golden Gate Bridge and a few miles north of San Francisco you come to one
of America’s most striking natural spaces, the Muir Woods National Monument. The
drive itself is pretty scenic and impressive, and there’s a
nearby beach (Muir Beach, natch) that’s one of the West Coast’s most
preserved and pristine, among other
attractions. But if you’re going to Muir Woods, you’re likely going for the
trees, those majestic redwoods and sequoias, and I’m here to tell you that they
don’t disappoint. The single most famous giant redwood, the one with the hole
you can drive your car through, is at a privately owned site much
further north; but the trees in Cathedral
Grove and throughout the rest of Muir Woods are just as imposing and majestic,
a reminder of how much in the natural world dwarfs (in the best and most
necessary sense) our human comprehension.
There’s a strong
argument to be made that the best way to experience Muir Woods would be in
solitude and silence. After all, John Muir
is rivaled in American history and culture only by Henry David Thoreau and
Rachel Carson as an advocate for such solitary experiences of the natural
world; “The
clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness,” Muir wrote
in his journals, and like those compatriots he fervently believed that such
wildernesses demand our singular attention if they are to guide us where they
would. As a hugely prominent advocate for the national park system, Muir
certainly believed that all his
fellow Americans should have the chance for such experiences, so I’m not
suggesting that he was in any way an elitist—but rather that he recognized, as
so many of the great naturalists have and do, the power of what Ralph Waldo Emerson called
in his essay “Nature” (his first published work and one of the ur-texts of
American naturalism to be sure) “an original relation to the universe.” “If a
man would be alone,” Emerson begins the first chapter of that essay, “let him
look at the stars”—but I think he’d have been on board with “the redwoods” as
the predicate of that sentence instead.
But there’s an
equally strong argument to be made for a communal experience of Muir Woods—an
argument that’s founded on one of the most unique and inspiring moments in recent
world history. In the spring of 1945, representatives from 50 nations met in
San Francisco to produce the
United Nations Charter, the founding document of that new organization; on May
19th, the group traveled to Muir Woods for a ceremony honoring Franklin Roosevelt,
who had been instrumental in convening the UN conference before he passed
away in April of that year. They placed
a commemorative plaque in Cathedral Grove, paying tribute not only to FDR
and to his vision for the UN, but to how much a site like Muir Woods can remind
us of all that we humans share, including the vital collective mission of
preserving the natural world around us. While us 21st century
visitors might not travel to Muir Woods with quite such an impressive purpose,
nor surrounded by quite such an inspiring community, we all can similarly share
the woods with those who inspire and encourage us in pursuit of our most ideal
goals and futures. I think Muir would approve of that too.
Final site
tomorrow,
Ben
PS. What do you
think?
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