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July 2006 - Article 4
I'd been driving all day in the Adirondacks, taking advantage of this July day's cloudy weather. The cover made it feel cool, so the weather was pleasant, pleasant enough for me not to want to end the trip all that soon. So it wasn't a surprise to me when I almost felt the car drive itself into Sacandaga Campground, a wooded enclave just south of Wells, New York, on NY 30. I wasn't ready to go home just yet. The campground was situated along the banks of Sacandaga River, which was lined with pines that kept the area shaded and cool. I pulled my vehicle into the day area parking lot. A comfort station was located higher up, and a bridge took me to the camping area across the river. Once I parked, I grabbed the book I'd been reading, and sat down by the river banks. The atmosphere had that familiar air conditioned sensation I get when I am amongst a group of conifers. They welcomed me as their guest with their shade and beauty. 
The book I was reading was a comprehensive study on American history. The part I read, as I was sitting on the edge of the river, was about how English settlers came to know the tribes of the Five Nations. These settlers were amazed that there really wasn't a defined bureaucracy amongst the native peoples, and yet there was no real discord. The Europeans wondered how with this lack of centralization, there wasn't utter chaos. Thomas Hobbes probably hadn't envisioned a society like this, and neither had they. The harmony that existed between the peoples, and the balance that they seemed to have with nature, truly was an oxymoron for a people who only knew conquest, domination, and exploitive capitalism. 
I thought of how ironic it was, to be sitting in the Adirondacks, and reading about these peoples. It was possible that some council meeting had taken place right where I was sitting, or someone had been sitting here learning of the Great Spirit as it rushed by on the river. I stopped reading, and listened to the rush of the river flow. The intense rains of the last few weeks made it sound like a rapids, and it nearly overpowered any manmade sound about me. Although occasionally, the wind directly gently reminded me of exterior realities, whispering of traffic horns and children playing. Yet, the message didn't feel discordant with the nature around me. I felt sheltered by the pines around me, and I felt a taste of harmony. I was one with this ecosystem, just as valuable as any other life form, but no more. The landscape would survive even if I died right there. It didn't need me to control it. 
I took one more last look at the canopy of trees before I left, and felt grateful for spending time with them. The river still churned its song, and the clouds were dense enough to provide cooling pleasure for the drive home. I was glad for the civilization I was going back to, but I was equally glad all of these things were still here by the river. They were there to remind me of what harmony really was. |