I think there is a very fine emotion between fear and awe. I’ve felt it before.

I’ve felt it as I stood a foot away from bear, realizing the only thing that separated me from 1,000 pounds of muscle and shear killing power was a metal grate that was only fractionally thicker than the bear’s claw.

I’ve felt it as I stood alone on a rocky Alaskan beach and heard a whale’s song not thirty feet away from me.

I’ve felt it as I looked up and saw the sun glimmer through the branches of giant redwoods.

I’ve felt it as I watched water roar through an underground ballroom, as a stingray’s fin brushed across my face, as I suddenly knew the answer to the answer to the old question “Why does a man climb a mountain?”

It’s the chills you get looking down from an airplane. It’s the shiver that moves through your body when you feel the blue abyss of the ocean calling from below you.

It is frighteningly peaceful.

It is majestically alarming.

It shakes your mind and startles your heart. It is the overwhelming honor for the beautiful animal that could end you life with a bat of its paw. It is a built in reminder that nature is not a thing to be tamed or to be controlled.

It is creation’s silent demand for respect.

One would be wise to heed it.