He'd left the crowded national park parking lot, and he'd hiked determinedly up and away from them to reach the silence. He couldn't hear car horns, he couldn't hear people talking loudly on cellphones. It literally felt like magic. It was a thick wool comforter he could pull over his mind. Every year it took longer to get outside the wall of sounds and chirp of distractions. Our present environmental crisis, is in essence, a spiritual crisis. A plaque - the revolution that vaulted Christianity to victory over paganism. He could see it's scar in the brown trees striping up the mountainside in front of him. Inhibitions to the exploitation of nature vanished as the Church took the spirits out of the trees, mountains, and seas - - placing them instead in steeples. The ghost-busting theology made it possible for man to exploit nature in a mood of indifference to the feelings of natural objects. It made nature man's monopoly. That someone could look up this mountainside and see something consumable, a naked resource to be turned into power? He came here every year - to walk among his peers and seek forgiveness.