“If you take nature as a teacher she will teach you exactly the lessons you had already decided to learn; this is only another way of saying that nature does not teach. The tendency to take her as a teacher is obviously very easily grafted on to the experience we call ‘love of nature’. But it is only a graft. While we are actually subjected to them, the ‘moods’ and ‘spirits’ of nature point no morals. Overwhelming gaiety , insupportable grandeur, sombre desolation are flung at you. Make what you can of them, if you must make at all. The only imperative that nature utters is, ‘Look. Listen. Attend.’
Nature never taught me that there exists a God of glory and of infinite majesty. I had to learn that in other ways. But nature gave the word glory a meaning for me. I still do not know where else I could have found one. I do not see how the ‘fear’ of God could have ever meant to me anything but the lowest prudential efforts to be safe, if I had never seen certain ominous ravines and unapproachable crags. And if nature had never awakened certain longings in me, huge areas of what I can now mean by the ‘love’ of God would never, so far as I can see, have existed.
The created glory may be expected to give us hints of the uncreated; for the one is derived from the other and in some fashion reflects it.”
from The Four Loves, by C.S. Lewis
I just love this. Nature does not tell you what to think, merely it tells you to think. When all of the distractions of life, work, technology (and so on and so forth) are stripped away, you are faced with questions as such:
Who are you?
What will remain?
Where are you going?
When are you going?
Why are you, you?
How are you going to spend the rest of your days?
By all means beloved, GO out into the wild where there is no WiFi.
Find the answers to these questions.