Nature: A Definition

Hey Readers,

This is my very first college writing assignment. My Late Summer Honors professor asked each of us to write a paragraph or two (in my case about seven) about what nature means to us and to the community/world more generally. I had fun writing it, took some risks, and am fairly proud of it. It's a first draft and I started it after midnight, so it might be terrible in reality. In any case, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did and I hope I enjoy future writing assignments as much as I did this one.

Here goes:

Etymologically speaking, the word "nature" means "the conditions of birth." Whether in reference to the quality of human character or the physical world we inhabit, "nature" speaks to things as they really are, or originally were, without alteration or modification. Considering that Earth transformed into a completely different world (at least on the surface) during the billions of years between its cosmic creation and the creation of the word "nature," and has continued to change in the hundreds of years between that word's inception and Thursday the twentieth of August, 2009, it's necessary to expand that definition.

Here I must confess to a bit of duplicity. I have two definitions of the word. The practical me defines "nature" as the people around me define it, which definition is complex and manifold in itself. The philosophical me--the opinionated me who lies to get up on a soapbox and preach--has a very different definition. The trick is that my two definitions interact and overlap in my usage of and thoughts on the words. I'll try to minimize the potential confusion.

The first definition fits into the typical conception of the word. Nature is where civilization is not. Nature is good by definition. Nature is simple. Nature is beautiful. Nature is where we can grow closer to ourselves, to each other, or to God (or to any combination of the three) without the distractions of real life (but I thought that nature was supposed to be reality in its purest--can you see the reasons for my split definition?).

The application of this definition is flexible. Nature could be the pristine back woods and alpine peaks of upper Canada. It could be the well-used, drive-in campsite an hour out of the city with several well-marked trails trails nicely paved with other hikers' litter leading out of it to final destinations featuring picnic tables and pit toilets. Or it could be the fenced off zoo enclosures inhabited by "wild" animals and plants indigenous to the animals' original homelands. My heart breaks for those whose only definition of "nature" is illustrated by that last example. The fact is, there is no real application for a definition that means a place where civilization is not. Even the slowly shrinking places where human shoe has never trod are still affected by civilization, however minutely. Insert here one of many examples of animals who have died of toxins released from factories hundreds or even thousands of miles away.

This leads me to my second definition. Nature is not some remote place to which we run or hike or RV when we need to escape from ourselves. Nature is everywhere. Nature is not an inherent good to counter civilization's inherent evil. "Nature" is a neutral word. It is exactly what we make of it. Nature is this big round place that Heavenly Father gave us to use and to keep. It has the potential to be, and usually is, breathtakingly wonderful. And by wonderful I mean words-cannot-express, please-help-me-pick-my-jaw-up-from-off-the-floor, this-is-so-beautiful-I-could-just-kiss-you wonderful. It also has the potential to be unspeakably and disgustingly filthy. But the fact is, nature is everywhere, including the urban heart of "civilization." After all, aren't termite mounds and beehives and birds' nests considered natural, too?

As much as environmentalists of the political extreme would have us believe that humanity is evil and that civilization is causing the death of the environment and of the planet as we know it and that all the animals and trees (which are people, too) would be better off if we exterminated ourselves, we are a part of this world. We belong to it and it belongs to us. Human extinction would cause just as profound, if not more detrimental an impact on the world's ecosystems as the extinction of any of the other endangered species protected by international law. The sad truth is that if any of those species went extinct, the consequences would likely be minimal. It is the most pervasive--and not the rarest--organisms that are the most influential and important. Whether they like it or not, we're here and we're going to stick around.

The application of this definition, and the conclusion of this essay, is a choice. If nature is everything around us, including ourselves, and is neither good nor bad per se, but exactly what we make it, then we must decide what we will make it. Every individual animal has at least a small effect on the world. And we are more than just animals. Each one of us should recognize the impact we individually and collectively have. If we as a race decide to make this Earth breathtakingly wonderful and fully accept responsibility for that decision, then we will each do our part to keep the world clean and free to grow and develop. If this were the case, we wouldn't have to worry about global warming or melting ice caps or holes in the ozone layer. If they happen, they happen and we can't do anything about it but enjoy the warmer weather and work on our tans. We often fail to give the planet the credit it deserves. After all, it is a living, breathing, changing organism with incredible survival mechanisms. As long as we are taking care of Earth, Earth will take care of itself and of us. All I can hope is that we will make that choice to fulfill Nature's potential for good. I hope we choose to hold onto our empty trail mix bags for a few more miles until we can properly throw them away. I hope we choose to pick up someone else's trash and throw it away with out own. I hope we choose to walk and run and ride when we can, so that when we can't, the inevitable exhaust isn't as detrimental as before. If we choose the opposite, I'll be terribly disappointed, but in the end we will only hurt ourselves from the physical effects of inhaling gaseous refuse with every breath we take and the spiritual effects of mistreating our Heavenly Father's creation. It's the meaning we create that matters.


Well there it is! I hope you liked it. By the way, the Sirius Sattelite Radio Broadway station played perfect going away songs for me today, including "So Long, Dearie!" Here's one song that Mama and I especially liked:



All right, it is now after three o' clock Ante-Meridian, and I need some sleep so I can be ready and roarin' for Late Summer Honors tomorrow.

Love Love Love,
Christian!