Nature, God and Romanticism

I should begin by admitting that I did not do the walk in Audobon Park at the assigned time. I came to the park meaning to, but went and returned my backpack to my room and ran into some friends on the way back to the park and ended up talking to them for two hours instead. I figured I could go back sometime in the next few days and it wouldn't much matter. Besides, it was a drizzly, overcast day and I think Audobon is most beautiful in the sunshine, particularly at either dawn or dusk. So I went back this morning and walked and prayed in the park, finding the beauty and wisdom of God apparent in the chirping birds and overhanging trees and the water meandering so slowly and elegantly. 

    Right there I've admitted an important difference between myself and a lot of romantic poets. I am a very religious person and I credit the beauty of nature to the creativity of God. I don't think it exists for itself. I do agree, at least in part, with the romantic idea of man as a part of nature. While I reserve a special place for man in creation, I am also think its obvious that all that makes us dignified as human beings: our intellect, will, emotions and passions, are stem from natural, physical process of neurology. As such, I'm skeptical of all ideas which posit a mind body dualism in man or see the body as a prison for the mind or soul. Blake probably wouldn't have liked me very much. But human beings are physical creatures and as they naturally find comfort and beauty in nature. Christians would use the word "solidarity" to describe it. So its easy to understand how the romantics, even those who were atheists or agnostics, found meaning in nature. It relates perfectly to human emotion and struggle. Everything in nature is birth and death, growth and decay, sorrow and joy. Every thing is a cycle and every part of the cycle is beautiful, even the most painful. As I walked along the path in Audobon about an hour ago, I took in the beauty of the morning all the while realizing it must be coupled with the pain of night. It's like the story we were told in class. The leaves on trees in fall are red because they're beautiful. Through all sorrow and hardship there is beauty. Nature is evidence of this and the romantic poet knows it. 

I especially loved G's post because I was also on the retreat experience that she talked about and I also found night out there in the woods kinda scary and attractive at the same time. I went into that retreat with a difficult problem I was facing in life which I really had to wrestle with this weekend. I found most of the great conversations I had with God and most of the intense introspection into my heart happened alone at night when the darkness surrounded me. Maybe its just that I'm an English major and am constantly looking for metaphors and outside expressions which mirror the turmoil of my mind. But I finally made some peace with things late Saturday night and the light of Sunday morning brought a newness and a joy with it. All the while I was made more aware of the nights to follow in life, of all the struggle and sorrow that I will have to face as I walk through this world, which I would sometimes rather avoid. I know, though, that I can't avoid it and ought to embrace it. Like the cycles of nature, the struggles of human existence are substantial, but they are always beautiful and worthy of romantic poetry.