Nature calls silence

Nature provides perspective. Just a week ago, I was in Kolasin in Montenegro, a tourist town about the size of Eureka Springs. To restore Old World charm, Kolasin replaced the pavement with beautiful cobble stone streets. A few modern hotels supplant old dreary state hotels of the Yugoslav Communist era. Centuries old houses and businesses line the square. People dart about their day oblivious to the natural beauty.

I hired a guide to drive me to the main tourist attraction -- nearby Komovi mountain, a 5,000+ foot karst peak rising above the timber line, speckled with beech forests scarred by ski trails below. We went to the end of the road. I got out to take a few photographs, while my guide stayed in the SUV. Too cold for him, with temperatures in the high 40s buffeted by a brisk wind sweeping over the mountain's saddle.

I relished the cool air, soaking it into the core of my body; at least storing the memory of feeling cold, knowing that back home it was well over 100°. I was struck by the impressive beauty of the place. I was struck by the silence. There was no sound to be heard -- no cars, no people, no planes overhead, no breeze through the trees as the only vegetation there hugged the ground, hiding from the constant wind. Enough of photography, thinking, looking, stalking beauty in nature -- at that moment I wished only to sit and relish that rare symphony of silence.

The human spirit requires a frequent refresh in nature. We all have our own ways of being in nature, whether we know it or not. A walk through the woods, a run, a bike ride, fishing, hunting or even chasing a ball like a rabbit toward its hole in the distorted natural environment called a golf course.

I love the fact that Eureka Springs is nestled in nature, ready to experience. I step out of my front door and I am in town. I step out of my back door and I am in nature. There, I can just be in nature. All it lacks is silence.