Nature’s Tonic

March 20, 2026 Pat Moriarty

“Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity; and that mountain parks and reservations are useful not only as fountains of timber and irrigating rivers, but as fountains of life.” ~ John Muir

I came into this week drained, tired in a way that settles into the bones, feeling more than a little sadness.

The world feels all too heavy these days.

Hard times have a way of wearing a person down, and the gray, damp, cold weather hasn’t helped matters any.

At some point I realized I needed to stop what I was doing and deal directly with my feelings of dejection.

So I did what I have so often done.

I laced up my shoes and fled to the outdoors.

where my spirit can run free and play
where my head can clear itself of all the rubble

I set aside my work and headed over to Grand Avenue Park where I could see the sun dropping behind the Olympic Mountains.

There, for a moment, the sky was framed in a portrait of blazing brightness.

I gazed out over Admiralty Inlet and let my mind wander to bygone times. I remembered the many camping trips my family took during the summers when I was a child.

To Hurricane Ridge:

To the Staircase in Olympic National Park:

To Millersylvania State Park:

To Soap Lake:

To Birch Bay:

This adventure came right after my dad died in July of 1962. Mother knew we all needed to grieve somewhere where the world could wrap its arms around us.

She picked right.

To Cape Alava:

In college, when I was struggling with the War in Vietnam and whether I’d continue to carry my draft card, I spent a long weekend on the very edge of the North American continent on Cape Alava, overlooking Cape Flattery.

There I could contemplate my fate.

Union Pier, Michigan:

It was to this little town on the shores of Lake Michigan that Marsha, Erin and I would flee when we needed a break from the bustle of Chicago.

You see …..

The older I get, the more I recognize the hand that

carved those valleys,
raised those mountains,
filled those lakes,
cultivated those evergreens,
brushed color into the amazing sky of ours,

Is the same power that sustains me.

I understand the message of the psalmist:

Nature always points back to the Creator.

And my, oh my —

How important it is for me to get out of my head and not be the absolute center of my attention.

How much better it feels to be connected to something bigger than myself.

It’s when I find myself praying without even knowing it.

I heard it said:

The stillness you feel out there
It isn’t just relaxation.
It’s your soul finally exhaling.

There are times I feel like I’ve accomplished so little in my life and that so many of my dreams have been left unfulfilled.

But then, when I gaze out at Mt. Rainier, I can’t help but hear that mountain speaking to me:

Pat, none of that matters. In the long sweep of history, none of that matters.

Think about it: has a sunset ever asked what you accomplished today?

The mystics understood this.

They went to deserts and mountaintops, not to escape life, but to find life again. It’s there in the stillness the voice of God has room to be heard.

It’s when I am standing in the wilds of nature that I am reminded that just like the seasons of the year, I am constantly being recreated by the same hands that regenerate life in the wilderness.

And oh, how good it feels to be recreated.