Letters from Josh
Hidden Valley Letter 65 11/15/21
Howdy, folks! It’s been a bit bonkers over here. I just listed my house for sale, and that was a job and a half. So, it was with relish that I started my stroll on a crisp Friday morning. New boots, made both for working and walkin’, led me down into a ravine, where few feet had tread before. Crouching beside a tiny stream, the magic lit my eyes up, and begged to be shared with you. There’s plenty of General Hospital on TV (I must admit, one of my buddies is getting me hooked), but - here’s a contrast in letter form. An overnight rain had soaked the forest floor, littered red and gold, just like the old lyrics to Autumn Leaves. A gnarled mountain laurel, looking like a Japanese bonsai, stood guard over the burbling water. The brook laughed at me (with me, I prefer to think), the ancient stone a sounding board. Millions of years ago, it was rock, eroded into sand, turned back into stone, squished in the formation of Pangea (Africa was just over yonder, with Virginia being the center of the supercontinent), worn down completely, then finally uplifted while this tiny creek steadily continues to carve out this secluded ravine. Later on in the day, a bit further upstream, it kicked my butt as I tried to get an ATV across it. (It was definitely laughing at me as the tow rope came out.) Less than 24 hours later and two hundred miles under the tires, my flats padded down the regulated halls of the retirement home I work at. The nuance of human communication and corruption, love and malice, compromise and dedication, things that work blending with things that don’t, and shining examples of both types dazzled my eyes. Who was the philosopher who thought that Nature was uncorrupted and pure, and we stray away from it towards increasing complexity (and corruption)? Was it Sarte? (Anyone? Anyone?) I found the mountains offering a curious idea: perhaps Nature is the stage on which the more complex human saga (with consciousness, and it’s infinite series of choices concerning morality) plays out. One could make the case that the Garden of Eden articulates this idea: Nature as a platform outside of morality upon which we build, yet closely linked. It was refreshing to remember the stage exists, and all around us, there’s quiet forest ravines with streams as old as the hills quietly carrying sand to the sea. Shh...high overhead, a raven croaks it’s mysterious mountain song.

• Josh