I could see the sunrise on Tacoma this morning. The volcano best known as Rainier. Snowfields some two hundred miles north were lit peach and pink by the incoming light from a far off star. In between was Loowit. The volcano best known as St. Helens. Moments like that knit the world together. One long strand of diaphanous silk connecting everything— Sun to mountain—mountain to snow—to trees—to soil—to the trickle of water that turns into a river and feeds an ocean and everything in between. One mountain ridge reaching out to another.