THE VOICE OF THE DESERT 



216 



most likely to open the door to that joy we cannot analyze. 

 X have experienced it sometimes when a rabbit appeared 

 suddenly from a bush to dash away to the safety which he 

 values so much, or when, at night, a rustle in the leaves 

 reminds me how many busy lives surround my own. It has 

 also come almost as vividly when I suddenly saw a flower 

 opening or a stem pushing out of the ground. 



But what is the content of the experience? What is it 

 that at such moments I seem to realize? Of what is my hap- 

 piness compounded? 



First of all, perhaps, there is the vivid assurance that 

 these things, that the universe itself, really do exist, that 

 life is not a dream; second, that the reality is pervasive and, 

 it seems, unconquerable. The future of mankind is dubious. 

 Perhaps the future of the whole earth is only somewhat 

 less dubious. But one knows that all does not depend upon 

 man, that possibly, even, it does not depend upon this 

 earth. Should man disappear, rabbits may well still run 

 and flowers may still open. If this globe itself should per- 

 ish, then it seems not unreasonable to suppose that what 

 inspires the stem and the flower may exist somewhere else. 

 And I, it seems, am at least part of all this. 



God looked upon the world and found that it was good. 

 How great is the happiness of being able, even for a mo- 

 ment, to agree with Him! And how much easier that is if 

 one is not committed to considering only some one section 

 of the world or of the universe. 



Long before I ever saw the desert I was aware of the 

 mystical overtones which the observation of nature made 

 audible to me. But I have never been more frequently or 

 more vividly aware of them than in connection with the 

 desert phenomena. And I have often wondered why. 



