I see poetry in the clouds and hear music in the wind. While stress and setbacks will inevitably claw at the back of your neck at times, we can always fight this grasp by standing atop a hill just before sunset and soaking in fiery wisps of cloud and inhale gusts of sweet breeze.

A wise man once told me that he can see God when he eyes white clouds against a brilliant blue sky, and can hear His voice through powerful whistling winds.

From what I’ve seen, if anything has been proven to be the footprint of a heavenly being, it’s nature.

When I see a magnificent tree or smell crisp morning dew clinging to blades of grass, I’m reminded that even the harshest, most bitter day yields some chance at a miracle. If foliage can continue to sprout, and clouds can keep dancing across the wide sky, why can’t people sprout, why can’t we dance?

This is a lesson I often must relearn, but it’s an important one.

A river doesn’t stop flowing when it has had a tough day, and even if the wind calms down, it always roars again. There is a serenity in understanding that, even when a group of trees smolder, they become soil for saplings. Sometimes, our personal devastations can become soil.

Nothing is permanent. Even great Wyoming mountains will shift via tectonic plates when we’re all dead and gone. From this, we can learn everything changes, but it leads to something new and astounding around the corner.

Who knows, maybe one day when we leave our bodies we’ll become constellations or something far-out like that.

By acknowledging this flawless balance in nature, we can imitate it and transfer this philosophy into areas of our lives.

Bad things happen. This is, inevitably, a fact of life we can’t change. Sometimes we’re betrayed, hurt or even broken. The secret, as far as I’ve learned, is to try your best to fix something if you can, similar to how salmon swim against the river’s current when they have to.

But, you can’t ignore the other side of the coin. By learning when to embrace the things we can’t alter or repair, we dissolve into the boundless and occasionally soothing waters of helplessness. This is a bit like when the edge of a river bank crumbles against the current.

Just remember, birds will never stop singing.

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