No babe in quest of  comfort or security could  find  them better anywhere than on his or her mother's lap. In the world of the adult, this sense of comfort and security would be on a different plane. Here the adult, together with the younger, would find in nature an even more enduring and unaging mother, a mother who would readily respond to any and every call from men, women and children. For the motherhood of  nature continually rejuvenates itself. We do continually see it through the changes of seasons. At  the same time, the vastness of  the diverse ecosystems  which surround us in the world we live in, is also freshing and revitalizing. More than twenty-five centuries ago, before the world of today  puts forward its Biophilia Hypothesis, in its attempt to arrest the degradation of  the biota and reduce the risk of diminishment of  the human prospect, Buddhist thinking had  known this vital  relationship between what they then called man and nature, or man and his environment.

           Buddhists of the sixth  century  B.C. in India had no doubt derived a considerable amount of this thinking from their contemporaries like the Jains. These early Indians boldly labelled the plant world as unicellular living things [ekindriyam  pânam]. The Buddha, in his respect for this world  view, and in collaboration with it,  went so far as to call  upon his direct disciples,  the  bhikkhus,  to refrain  from causing injury or any form of harm [pâtavyatam] to plant life. The word used here for the plant world is bhûta-gâma, and it literally means the 'entire host of living things'. The Indians held the view that plants were living things [jîva-saññino hi manussâ rukkhasmim Vin. IV. 34  Pacittiya  11.]. This seems to make much more sense than the popular assumption  that celestial beings or divinities, i.e. devatâ  resided in trees [rukkha-devatâ] . We know of stories of old where men and women in ancient India addressed their prayers to divinities in trees for the gift of children and those guileless ancients firmly believed that their prayers were favourably answered. The well known story of Cakkhupala Thera in the Dhammapadatthakatha amplifies this [DhA.I.part I. p.2.]

           The concept of bhûta-gâma as living things here covers a wide range and includes seeds, bulbs, roots, tubers etc. In fact, the Buddha requested  his disciples of recognized seniority within his order  [upasampanna] not to go out on their rounds or cârikâ  during the rainy season  in order that they may not damage the green  grass and  the sprouting young seedlings  of the season [... vassam ' pi  cârikam  caranti  haritâni tinâni  sammaddanti   ekindriyam  jîvam  vihethenti . Vin.1.137 ]. Their respect for green grass is seen to be very high. Buddhist monastic discipline forbids monks from discharging  urine or fecal  matter on grassy land. Sources of water, like the rivers and lakes, with their aquatic life, were equally respected. This ban equally applies to them.

           Growing and cultivating of trees to serve the needs of  man is something well known to the Buddhists. It is upheld as a great virtue leading to good results here and hereafter. Many great ancient  Indian cities  like Râjagraha and  Srâvasti  had, in addition to their natural forest reserves or jata-vana  coming down from the Himalayan range [Bahi nagare Himavantena saddhim ekâbaddham  hutvâ thitam sayam jâta-vanam atthi. DA.I.309], large extents of forests grown by man  called  ropita-vana. The celebrated Jeta's Grove, known in Buddhist texts as  Jeta-vana  which was a very  popular resort of the Buddha, is said  to be such a forest  track,  planted and developed by Prince Jeta himself  [Tam  hi Jetena  Râjakumârena  ropitam  samvaddhitam  paripâlitam. So ca tassa sâmi ahosi. MA.I.60].
 
            Buddhism encourages the planting of  park lands and forest  glades [Ârâma-ropâ  vana-ropâ], holding out such activities as virtues which would take the humans who do so to heavenly worlds [te janâ  sagga-gâmino  S.I. 33]. Trees and the forests are to be respected. They are grown and maintained, and taken care of to serve the needs of man. It is therefore enjoined that  ' whosoever enjoys some comfort, sitting or sleeping under the shade of  a  tree,  shall not  tear down its  branches ' [Na  tassa  sâkhâ bhañjeyya]. That is called being treacherous  to nature. The ethics of this injunction appears to have been widely accepted and respected in the Indian society of  the day. In the Buddhist Jataka collection, we have discovered this verse appearing in six different places, independent of one another  [Jataka Pali vv. 1503, 2129, 3478, 4329, 5713, 5851]. It also appears at  Pv. v. 259.
 
                                 Yassa  rukkhassa  châyâya  nisîdeyya  sayeyya  vâ
                                 Na  tassa  sâkhâ   bhañjeyya  mittadubbho  hi  pâpako.
 
            Before we proceed much further, let us make it quite clear that this sensitivity in Buddhism to sylvan beauty is something which is distinctly outstanding. It assumes almost a spiritual glow. A beautiful verse attributed to the great stalwart in the Buddhist dispensation, the venerable Sariputta Thera, flashes this idea vividly across the Buddhist horizon when it says

                               Delightful are these forest tracts, where commoners fail to take delight.
                               But those gone beyond lustful cravings : they constantly rejoice therein.
                               For they seek not after sensual pleasures.
                                                                                                      [Translated by the author ]

                                Ramanîyân' yaranyâni yattha na ramati jano
                                Vîtarâgâ  ramissanti na te kâmagavesino.                    Thag. v. 992

          This attitude to sylvan beauty or the fascination of the forest is given both as an asset and an acquisition of the transcendental elite like the venerable Sariputta referred to above who had reached their desired heights, and as an unfailing stimulus to those who are keen on their spiritual ascent. Meet the venerable Thera Usabha, who on seeing the luscious growth of a clump of trees, aloft a scraggy cliff, gains a stimulating delight which pushes him along the path of spiritual escalation. Note how he describes his experience.

                               These never-moves [= nagâ  = trees] aloft the scraggy cliff,
                               Luscious in their growth so high above,
                               Drenched freshly by virgin heavenly clouds.
                                                                                                        [ Translated by the author ]
 
                               Nagâ  nagaggesu susamvirûlhâ
                               Udaggameghena navena sittâ.                                               Thag. v. 110

         Thera Usabha's mind was already pre-set and groomed for this kind of vision. The verse quoted above continues to tell us that this Thera was, by his very nature, a forest-lover and a seeker after solitude  [Vivekakâmassa  araññasaññino]. The text speaks of this monk, after this experience he has been through, as being highly spiritually elated [janeti bhiyyo usabhasya kalyatam. Thag. v. 110]. The word kalyatam  used here implies a state of spiritual readiness for further culture and growth. The Commentary on this tells that the monk soon nurtured and developed his vision with regard to the real nature of things in the world or tilakkhana [i.e. the ability to view the world as being constantly subject to change and therefore being unsatisfactory and guideless / undirectable] and gained his enlightenment. Thera Ekavihariya clinches in one single verse the entire Buddhist attitude to the forests when he speaks of the Buddha as one who spoke highly of the forest : Let me alone to the forest resort, the place much praised by the Buddha [Handa eko  gamissâmi  araññam  Buddhavannitam..Thag. v.537 ].
 

                As part of the environmental heritage there come the birds and the beasts of  the wild. Thera Sappaka sees the white-plumed cranes  which are threatened by the black rain-clouds, taking to their wings in search of a place of shelter. At a time like this, he says, the River Ajakaranî with which he was obviously familiar, delights his heart. He apparently knew the grandeur of  the river  on the advent of the rains. With true poetic vision he integrates the white-plumed birds, the dark rain clouds and the swelling river all in one, and garnishes it with a dressing of dread of the birds on one side and the rising joy within his heart on the other.
 
        Sappaka is a Buddhist disciple and we see his indomitable poetic excellence bursting forth as he sings of  the beauty of rose-apple trees laden with fruit.

                                   Whose heart will they not delight --
                                   Those rose-apple trees on both banks there ?
                                   At the back of my rocky ledge,
                                   They adorn the river banks.

His lyrics compare with the best we have known in English literature, of Wordsworth and Coleridge. He seems to insinuate : Now that the roaring waters of the river have carried away down stream the frog-devouring river snakes, the hosts of frogs are melodiously singing in glee [Tâmatamada-sangha-suppahînâ bhekâ mandavatî  panâdayanti. Thag. v. 310]. It is no time for me to leave the mountain-streams today, he says emphatically. My river Ajakarani is safe, supreme and delightful, he
adds further.

                                    Nâjja  girinadîhi  vippavâsasamayo.
                                    Khemâ   Ajakaranî  sivâ  surammâ.                           Thag. v. 310