s may be
carved. Thus the gods of erosion are the artists, while the builders of
the mountains are only ordinary workmen.

XI

RUMINATIONS

I. MAN A PART OF NATURE

This bit of nature which I call myself, and which I habitually think of
as entirely apart from the nature by which I am surrounded, going its
own way, crossing or defeating or using the forces of the nature
external to it, is yet as strictly a part of the total energy we call
nature as is each wave in the ocean, no matter how high it raises its
crest, a part of the ocean. Our wills, our activities, go but a little
way in separating us from the totality of things. Outside of the very
limited sphere of what we call our spontaneous activities, we too are
things and are shaped and ruled by forces that we know not of.

It is only in action, or in the act of living, that we view ourselves as
distinct from nature. When we think, we see that we are a part of the
world in which we live, as much so as the trees and the other animals
are a part. Intellect unites what life separates. Our whole civilization
is the separating of one thing from another and classifying and
organizing them. We work ourselves away from rude Nature while we are
absolutely dependent upon her for health and strength. We cease to be
savages while we strive to retain the savage health and virility. We
improve Nature while we make war upon her. We improve her for our own
purposes. All the forces we use--wind, water, gravity, electricity--are
still those of rude Nature. Is it not by gravity that the water rises to
the top stories of our houses? Is it not by gravity that the aeroplane
soars to the clouds? When the mammoth guns hurl a ton of iron twenty
miles they pit the greater weight against the lesser. The lighter
projectile goes, and the heavier gun stays. So the athlete hurls the
hammer because he greatly outweighs it.

II. MARCUS AURELIUS ON DEATH

Marcus Aurelius speaks of death as "nothing else than a dissolution of
the elements of which every human being is composed." May we say it is
like a redistribution of the type after the page is printed? The type is
unchanged, only the order of arrangement is broken up. In the death of
the body the component elements--water, lime, iron, phosphorus,
magnesia, and so on--remain the same, but their organization is changed.
Is that all? Is this a true analogy? The meaning of the printed page,
the idea embodied, is the main matter. Can t