Spiritual Writings

For those readers who do not know John Muir and his story, this is a great introduction. He was a Scottish born American naturalist and founder of the Sierra Club. The book includes a timeline of his life and an introduction to his work. The writings are then set out chronologically, beginning in 1864 when Muir was 26. He is undoubtedly one of the great nature mystics, remarking that going out was really going in, based on his insights into sacred nature and cosmic unity. An inscription on the flyleaf of his journal runs: 'John Muir. Earth. Planet. Universe.' For him, there is a harmony in nature between life and death and he writes rhapsodically about his experiences of beauty, landscapes of extraordinary grandeur and spiritual glow, which lead him to shout in a wild burst of ecstasy: 'from form to form, beauty to beauty, ever-changing, never resting, all are speeding on with love's enthusiasm, singing with the stars the eternal song of creation.'

On a number of occasions, Muir had telepathic experiences, leading him to take a train back to the Midwest on the occasion of both his father's and mother's deaths. One afternoon sketching high up above the Yosemite Valley when he suddenly felt the presence of his mental Prof James Butler, whom he had not seen for some time. On going down to the valley, he found that Butler had just arrived. In 1872, he writes to a friend: 'climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peaceful flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.' This seems to me the essence of John Muir's approach, emphasising that wildness is a necessity, all the more so over 100 years on. His nearest brush with death occurred at 12,800 feet when he suddenly found himself at the foot of a sheer drop and could apparently neither the move up nor down. After a momentary panic, his other self or Guardian Angel came forward and assumed control and his limbs moved with a positiveness and precision with which he seemed to have nothing to do: 'Had I been borne aloft upon wings, my deliverance could not have been more complete.' I hope that these extracts give you a flavour of the wonderful quality of Muir's writing, although I'm sure that he himself would prefer you to go out into nature rather than read his book.