April 18, 2017
Dordogne River. Early today. South West France is beautiful in springtime.
To be on one’s own in the wilderness is never to be alone. The ancient forests are so alive and vividly sensate that I feel complete. Through their rich and ancient life my own existence and fleeting life grows more complete. The sounds, smells, sights, temperatures, indescribable energy of ancient living forests – the trees in some many shapes and forms, myriad ferns, vast array of fungi, pure cold water streams, rich green moss everywhere to be seen – they all in unison nurture life in plush abundance. They welcome marsupials, birds, insects – even man when he visits. These same forests once nurtured the Thylacine for hundreds and thousands of years. Now gone forever. Forests and nature itself are deeply and primitively wise and nurturing. The one true contagion, the great predator, the dangerous virus – is mankind himself. He destroys in one generation what nature has taken eons to produce. Of all creatures most selfish. Most foolish. Most undeserving of exiostence. When I walk in these ancient places – I fear I may be the last generation of man to experience such wondrous places. I have been privileged to have experienced Tasmania’s ancient forests.
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