This week I go back to work refreshed by a grand vacation. I have drunk deeply of what Thoreau called the “tonic of wildness”. He goes on to observe that “we need to witness our own limits transgressed, and some life pasturing freely where we never wander.” I have done this and am the better for it.

This summer I have been humbled by a mountain hike and blinded by the torrent of a rainstorm. I was shocked by the frigid cold of a mountain stream that swept around and by me, seeming not to notice my presence. Fireflies blinking lazily among the dark pines appear here, then there. I saw ancient trees felled by a force long since past and water hurrying over green and grey rocks. That water was far too much in a hurry to stop and notice me. Thoreau was right; nature transgressed my limits, and yet was not proud. Indeed it seemed not to notice my defeat. Those fireflies… they’re still there in the mountains of Tennessee. I doubt they feel my absence. Compared to the overall population of fireflies in the mountains, I only saw a few during my brief sojourn. The great majority of their luminous kind will never be seen by any human being as they pasture “freely where we never wander.”

I loved sitting quietly in the dark, watching them dance gracefully in front and above me; but I’m even more grateful for the ones I didn’t see. Those unbeheld fireflies are out there, quietly providing the context of life and nature within which I live my life. The terrible power of nature is striking its blow in my absence. Trees will be felled, rocks will crash with a terrific crack, and the water will freeze and thaw, all without me or any other human being to see.

This context is important because I’m tempted to think too much of myself. I entertain the belief that the world needs to know my opinion on some matter. I imagine I must be seen, recognized, and honored for my individuality. Nature does not even dignify the folly of my arrogance with a “no.” It transgresses the limits of my mind and body with an amnesic plodding, and (perhaps more importantly) pastures freely in my absence.

I don’t suffer from feelings of insignificance. God has a purpose for me and I do my best to affect the world in my small corner of it. However, it is good for me to be realistic regarding the reach of that influence. The world neither awaits, nor depends upon my opinions and thoughts. That’s comforting. And somewhere in the mountains of Tennessee those fireflies are blinking green in the air where neither you nor I see them. Aren’t you glad?