Today, I’m about halfway through my daily walk — one of two I try to do each day. My goal is around five miles or 10,000 steps. While I can, during these warm summer months, I’m determined to build my body back up: to strengthen my muscles, improve my heart and lungs, sharpen my memory, and stay flexible.
At 72, that’s no small task! But I feel deeply blessed with good health and a strong body that has carried me through so many experiences. I don’t take it for granted for one second. I know what the actuarial tables say — none of us are promised tomorrow. But while I’m here, I intend to enjoy every moment.
As I walk today, I find my mind wandering toward a “bonus thought” I wanted to share with you: a meditation on sentience, intelligence, and being.
The Four Elements Revisited
When I was younger, I used to scoff at the old idea of the four classical elements — earth, air, fire, and water. It all seemed like primitive, even silly, superstition to me.
And yet… here I am, years later, finding a kind of unexpected wisdom in them.
- Earth: our bodies, our physical forms, everything that’s born from and returns to the ground.
- Air: the breath of life, spirit, movement — the unseen forces that animate us.
- Fire: our desires, passions, our vital heat.
- Water: the fluidity of our emotions and the constant change of life.
I’ve come to appreciate how these elements serve as powerful metaphors for the cycles and energies that move through our lives.
Rethinking Intelligence
I used to believe that the trees I pass on my walks, the lakes and rivers I see, the clouds drifting overhead — all these things were simply “stuff.” Just inert resources, existing without any real awareness.
But now, I wonder if that was simplistic thinking.
Watch a school of fish turning in perfect unison or a flock of birds weaving through the sky together. There is a kind of intelligence there — not like ours, perhaps, but intelligence nonetheless.
Some might argue that these creatures are simply following instinct, that they lack real “sentience.” But who are we to decide the worth or depth of another being’s awareness? How could I, for example, survive the bitter cold like a duck or endure desert heat like a beetle? Their intelligence is different, but no less real.
I now suspect that trees, plants, rivers, winds — all of nature — possess a form of sentience and intelligence, one woven into the fabric of their being. Maybe they don’t think or reason as we do, but that doesn’t mean they are not aware in their own way.
What if there is a “tree intelligence,” a consciousness so different from mine that I simply can’t perceive it? Just because a tree doesn’t tap me on the shoulder to say hello doesn’t mean it isn’t alive in a deeper sense.
A Sacred Interconnectedness
When I consider the centuries-old oak I walk past every day, I’m humbled. That tree has likely created and sheltered countless offspring — far more than I ever could.
Who’s to say I’m more important than that oak?
Stories from near-death experiences often describe people entering gardens, forests, or fields more vivid and alive than anything on Earth — places where everything seems to radiate its own perfection and intelligence.
I find myself believing that heaven — or whatever lies beyond — is not just for us, but for the trees, the waters, the winds, and all living beings.
A Deeper Communion
This perspective has led me to a more intimate relationship with nature. I feel a greater sense of reverence for the water, the air, the plants, and the soil.
I want to protect them, not harm or exploit them. They give us life: the trees that take in our CO₂ and gift us oxygen, the grasses that cleanse and renew, the rain that nourishes.
It’s all an intricate dance — a sacred interdependence.
As I walk, I feel part of a grand, cosmic chain of being that extends far beyond this Earth, perhaps even beyond this universe. In my imagination, I sometimes see myself sitting outside time and space, holding all the universes in my hands, realizing that everything rests within the embrace of something greater — the Divine Creator.
Becoming Part of the Great Story
Knowing this gives me comfort.
It reminds me that while my individual life is precious, it is only a small part of a much larger, beautiful tapestry of life and consciousness. The creek beside me teems with tiny universes of life and death, growth and decay. The trees, animals, flowers — they are all sacred participants in this grand unfolding.
I dream that, after this life, I will reconnect with even higher forms of consciousness and beauty. Perhaps I will meet beings who, like the trees and rivers here, create and nurture life in ways I can’t yet imagine.
And maybe, one day, I will not just witness creation but take part in it — co-creating new worlds, new forms of life, new universes.
Thank You
Thank you for walking with me today — not just down this summer path, but into these deeper musings.
May we all continue to grow in strength, in wonder, and in love for the sacred life all around us.
— David
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