How terribly downright must be the utterances of storms and

Hear the thunderous wisdom of John Muir, prophet of the wilderness, who declared: “How terribly downright must be the utterances of storms and earthquakes to those accustomed to the soft hypocrisies of society.” In these words, the great naturalist contrasts the raw, uncompromising truth of nature with the veiled and delicate falsehoods of society. The storm does not flatter, the earthquake does not deceive, the wind does not bend its speech to please. They speak plainly, with violence and clarity, reminding man that beneath his masks and ceremonies, he is but dust and breath. For those who dwell in the gentle deceptions of polite company, the voice of nature strikes like a blow—terrible, but honest.

The origin of these words lies in Muir’s life among mountains and forests. He lived where glaciers carved valleys and tempests tore trees from the earth. To him, the language of nature was stern but true, while human hypocrisy was soft, cloaked in politeness, and filled with compromise. Society tells a man what he wishes to hear; nature tells him what is. Muir, weary of the false comforts of civilization, exalted in the blunt speech of the earth, for in it he heard not cruelty, but the unvarnished voice of creation.

The ancients, too, perceived this. Heraclitus, the dark philosopher, declared that “nature loves to hide” and yet reveals herself in fire, storm, and change. To those who listened, these were not disasters but revelations: lessons about impermanence, power, and truth. The polite words of society may soothe, but they often conceal; the words of the storm terrify, yet they unveil reality. In this, Muir echoes the eternal wisdom: that truth, however terrible, is nobler than comfort built upon lies.

History offers its testimony as well. Recall the great Lisbon earthquake of 1755, which struck on All Saints’ Day, shattering churches and homes, and killing tens of thousands. Europe, accustomed to the ceremonies and hierarchies of society, was shaken not only in body but in spirit. Philosophers such as Voltaire and Rousseau wrestled with its meaning, and the earthquake became a symbol of unmasked reality. The hypocrisy of a society that claimed divine order in every detail was suddenly silenced by the blunt force of the earth. Here, as Muir would later say, nature spoke terribly and directly, and no polite fiction could soften her voice.

The meaning of Muir’s words is thus a summons to courage. He teaches us that storms and earthquakes, though frightening, are more honest than the whispers of courts and parlors. In their terrible utterances lies a kind of purity. To embrace this is to live more truly, to strip away the false ornaments of hypocrisy, and to stand naked before reality. Though society may weave lies of status, wealth, and pretense, the storm reminds us that all men are equal when the ground shakes and the sky rages.

What lesson, then, must we carry? That we must not grow so accustomed to the soft hypocrisies of society that we cannot endure the bluntness of truth. Seek out the voices of reality, even when they discomfort you. Welcome those moments when life strips away illusion and speaks directly—whether through loss, hardship, or the raw majesty of nature. Do not despise these voices, for though they terrify, they purify. They remind us who we are, and what truly matters.

Therefore, children of the future, engrave this wisdom upon your hearts: better the terrible truth than the comfortable lie. Let storms teach you humility, let earthquakes remind you of impermanence, let hardships strip away your masks. And in your dealings with one another, strive to speak with the same honesty, even if your words are not always soft. For a society that embraces truth, though it trembles, will stand stronger than one built upon hypocrisies that crumble in the first quake. In this way, Muir’s vision calls us back to the ancient clarity of the earth itself.