The world is one.
Some views of one place seem the deja vu of the other ones so far away. Wherever you put your foot you will see the sun, rising or setting, the sky, blue, the clouds; the plains, hills, mountains; and water in still lakes, snaky rivers, the sound of the ocean. These are the most constant things in human lifetime as the Father God of the Sky, the Mother God of the Earth and we their children.
Some of these mixes of the Earth and the Sky seem to the eyes of men worthy of living the rest of their lives at, some - worthy of building the church at and some - they are the church, so majestic and breathtaking they stand. Long ago men have chosen some of them to be the cathedrals for the spirits of the dead and Gods to dwell. Now we can comprehend it only coming back to these places and feel how wise they were.
What small miserable ants those people look chosen to exist in the muddy, crowded, dusty, shagged, deprived of beauty spot they had the occasion to live at or to have a job at or to have any other anchor at. How miserable I also am having the need to be reminded of this looking out of my window mornings seeing a grey urban landscape. It strikes me every time I raise my eyes from the usual path I roam, every time I distract my head from everyday thoughts. It strikes me also that I see people not knowing that the windows are made to look out through.
Casting eyes upon nature takes the breath away and makes the heart ache. Every scene one glances at looks like the model for a panoramic oil or a tiny sketch of micronature. But how can you choose when every rock, every tree, weed or nook is a monument to itself, perfect in its wilderness and imperfection. It seems sometimes such picturesque cozy nature corners or vast miraculous cathedrals just wait to be found. And sometimes that it is a human mind that makes certain things we see linked to the concept "beautiful" that is not vital but so anxiously important one is ready to sacrifice so much for.