Hello, I am writing this journal to reflect on the ideas and ideals of transcendentalism. I am writing in real time because I feel that is the best way to reflect on something. Here I am, at some time around 12:00 on a school night, sitting on my deck in the cold February air. You may be thinking it is irresponsible to go about something like this in such a way. I, however, respectfully disagree. Transcendentalism has its roots in the act of removing one's self from the allure of society and technology. I spent the majority of this Sunday doing just the opposite. It is for this reason that I truly appreciate this time at the end of the day to reflect on everything around me.

When you're approximately one story above the ground, sitting cross legged on your wooden perch, you feel like you're above everything. You look down upon the plants and animals you know are lurking below, shrouded by the transcendent darkness of the night. However, despite how tall you may feel, take another look around. You notice the tress; some of them are right there with you, others require you to crane your neck to take in their beautiful spires and tendrils. I, for one, can count at least a dozen of these wizened spirits towering over me.

As I write, I must breathe on my stiffening knuckles to keep them limber. Even this is something to appreciate. Nature dictates our lives with her ever-changing moods. And while some may find this cold uncomfortable and inconveniencing, without discomfort, we could never know its fairer counterpart.

To move to another train of thought, I can hear the faint, lilting melody of a wind chime in the distance. Although this object is manmade, it still captures the beauty of Nature, for that is its purpose after all. The wind chime is an instrument crafted by man so that nature may express her feelings through simple song. It is like a flute, or other such instrument. A person has the breath needed to use the flute, to tell his or her story and let the world know he or she is there. Without the flute, the person is simply breath, and nature simply a whistling, chilling wind.

And with that, I bid nature goodnight.