Albert Einstein, one of the most brilliant minds of the 20th century, said, “Rejoice with your family in this beautiful land of life.” I’m not sure in what context he made this statement, but I am drawn to his choice of the word rejoice … to feel joy and delight. It is, undeniably, a gift to feel that with family. In a broader context, though, this “beautiful land of life,” encompasses more than a connection with family. I like to think of it as a call to look at life as a landscape, filled with a variety of terrains to traverse —relationships, employment, avocations and vocations, but most importantly for me, the natural world …. wildlife, flora, fauna … this Mother Earth of ours.
When I was 10, my Dad and I made a pact never to litter. We were driving up Highway 395 in California on our way to Mammoth Mountain, meeting up with Mom and siblings for a weekend of skiing.
Highway 395, my favorite road trip adventure in the state, parallels the Sierra Nevada mountain range, famous for Mt. Whitney, the highest mountain in the contiguous U.S. on one side and the White Mountains, home to the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, on the other. It bisects the Owens Valley, known as the “Land of Little Rain,” celebrated in a book of the same name by Mary Austin.
I digress. Anyway, I just remember driving up the highway, listening to my Dad talk with great emotion, something that didn’t happen very often, about his love for that area of California. We noticed and we agreed that there was too much litter along the roadside. In that moment our pact was made, a pact we stayed true to our whole lives. A pact that allowed me to see my Dad as more than just a caretaker of me, but as a thoughtful steward of the world around him. That moment inspired my commitment to do the same. We didn’t always agree on the process, throughout the years, but we did agree, most of the time, that stewardship of the Earth was a conversation worth having.
So, against this backdrop, I stumbled across Einstein’s quote many years later, after my Dad passed away. Reflection is a powerful approach to understanding who we are, who we want to be. My Dad was gone, but I could still rejoice in the legacy of what he taught me — to see the landscape of this “beautiful land of life” as a terrain filled with choices that I was in control of.
And, to pick up my trash.