Today I saw that someone had taken a piece from a skunk cabbage near the beach and dropped it near the top of the park.  This person saw the brilliant yellow flower of the swamp lantern, and his or her response was, Nature has caught my eye, so I think I'll kill it.  The flower was probably discarded when this person realized that the skunky smell wasn't going away.  Does the person who ruined this flower for all the other park visitors feel any internal discord about this wasteful destruction?  If this person was aware of natural beauty enough to notice the flower in the first place, why didn't an innate respect for nature kick in?

Humans are a cancer on the planet.  Humans have the potential, the skills, knowledge, and ability, to be a nervous system for the biosphere.  We could be the brain of the planet.  As mentioned earlier, no other species besides Homo sapiens seems to be equiped to fully appreciate the beauty of nature.  We can choose to be a cancer or a nervous system.  We can bring destruction upon our planet and ourselves, or we can help our biosphere awaken, become conscious and sentient. 

Nature certainly does communicate with us.  Dogs, for example, can communicate very well.  I work with several scent dogs that find missing dogs and cats, and we have established ways of communicating that can be effective most of the time.  (Although, recently my communication with one of the search dogs has gone awry.)  We can also understand the language of birds.  Each songs is an identifier for a species, and there are alarm signals, mating calls, and hunting cries.  To the person who has studied their language, birds communicate very well.  Through science, we are able to communicate with almost every species in the sense that we can understand the meaning of sounds, motions, and actions. 

Nature would not communicate with us through configurations of patterned rocks.  The squeaks of trees in the wind are just random, other than communicating the information about the behavior of tree branches in wind.  Everywhere I look in Eagle Landing Park, I see nature communicating with me about her activities, intentions, and general health.  The more I learn about the 365+ species in the park, the more I understand the information being communicated to me.  If more people would make the effort to listen, they could eventually hear the music of nature.