Forests, lakes, and rivers, clouds and winds, stars and flowers

Orison Swett Marden, the great voice of optimism and self-mastery, once declared: “Forests, lakes, and rivers, clouds and winds, stars and flowers, stupendous glaciers and crystal snowflakes—every form of animate or inanimate existence, leaves its impress upon the soul of man.” In these words lies a revelation as ancient as the first dawn: that nature is not merely scenery for our lives, but a living scripture, carved in light and stone, water and sky, leaving eternal marks upon those who dare to behold it with open heart.

The origin of this truth springs from Marden’s lifelong belief that the human spirit is shaped not only by books or teachers, but by the silent majesty of creation. He wrote in an age when industry was rising and cities were swelling, yet he called men and women back to the forests and mountains, back to the streams and stars. For he knew that every form of existence—whether the glory of the glacier or the fragility of a snowflake—has power to refine the soul, to awaken awe, to etch lessons upon the heart deeper than any classroom could.

Consider the mountaineer John Muir, who wandered the Sierra Nevada with little more than bread in his pack and wonder in his heart. The glaciers he touched, the forests he walked, the flowers he bent to admire, each left their impress upon him. From these encounters, Muir did not return as he left; he returned transformed, aflame with reverence for the natural world. So great was this impress upon his soul that he moved nations, helping birth the preservation of Yosemite and the American national parks. In him, we see Marden’s wisdom proven true: nature imprints itself upon man, and through man, reshapes the destiny of peoples.

Even the smallest things bear this power. A child watching snowflakes fall at night, seeing them vanish upon the palm, learns that beauty can be delicate and fleeting. A sailor watching the winds churn the sea understands both the frailty and the resilience of life. A shepherd beneath the stars learns humility, recognizing that man’s works are small against the vastness of the cosmos. These are not mere sights; they are eternal teachers, leaving behind impressions that shape character, faith, and courage.

The ancients honored this truth as sacred. The Druids sought wisdom in the groves of oak. The prophets withdrew to deserts and mountains to hear the divine voice more clearly. The Stoics taught that to live in accordance with nature was to live in harmony with reason itself. Across cultures and ages, men have known that forests and rivers, clouds and winds are not silent, but speak in a language of symbols, training the soul in patience, strength, humility, and awe.

The lesson for us, then, is clear: do not pass through the world blind. Do not walk by the river as if it were nothing but water, or look at the flower as if it were nothing but color. Each thing, if seen with reverence, will leave its mark upon you, teaching what cannot be spoken in words. Learn to be attentive, for nature is the oldest teacher, and her school is everywhere, open to all who will look and listen.

What, then, must we do? Make time to seek out the wild places, even if they are small. Sit beneath a tree, walk by a stream, gaze at the night sky, and let them speak. Keep a journal, not only of events, but of impressions—the way a mountain made you feel, the way a snowfall changed your silence, the way a flower bent in the breeze stirred your heart. And above all, cultivate gratitude, for to live on this earth is to live daily among teachers greater than kings.

So let Marden’s words echo in your soul: “Every form of animate or inanimate existence, leaves its impress upon the soul of man.” Carry this truth with you, and you will never again find the world ordinary. For in every forest, every cloud, every snowflake, you will find a lesson, a mirror, a mystery—an eternal mark upon your spirit, guiding you toward wisdom, humility, and joy.