The language of nature...

This was a long time ago...

I went for a walk in the campus. It was such a glorious day – seemed like the advent of spring. The sun had almost set when I started walking. Twilight was descending. I walked east, towards the lake. I took the road north of Tech, a road that I hadn’t taken before. I went around Cook, past the football ground and the library, towards the lake. There was absolutely no sound of humans once I crossed the bridge. All I could hear was the beating of the waves against the rocks, the singing of birds, the cackling of geese, and the slow whistle of the wind.

To the South was the awesome view of downtown Chicago. The vastness and the beauty of nature lay immediately in front of me, while man’s genius, in the form of mind-blowing architecture, lay beyond. I saw a couple of flights at a distance, looking down upon their ancestors, the birds. Man sure does learn from nature. But, what does he give back to it? I wonder…

I turned left to see the seemingly endless lake and the golden horizon. I sat down on the rocks to admire this breathtaking beauty, meanwhile trying to fathom the significance of the various sounds around me. What was it that the water was trying to tell me? The birds are conveying something very important; the wind is tirelessly singing a song. What is that they are trying to communicate to us? Will humanity ever be able to comprehend it?

As I was pondering over these thoughts, I suddenly felt a sense of loneliness that I had never felt before; and a sense of oneness (with nature) that I had never felt before. Darkness was descending and the wind was getting colder. I decided to go back home.

Now, which was home? I knew not the answer…