I’m going to have to disagree with this, because I think you’ve got the order wrong. Cynical men do not become jaded. Jaded men become bitter. And bitter men become cynical (though not ALL cynical men are bitter, I think). Men become jaded for many reasons, but probably the top two are being hurt by other people (loss of trust) and disappointment in life when it fails to meet our expectations.

If we’re discussing little-c cynicism here, then it is nothing more than a refusal to be duped by a belief that people are anything less than inherently selfish. And in many ways we are. Political, religious, and social values/beliefs are typically little more than mythologies we embrace to elevate and sooth our egos. (This does not negate human altruism though, but that’s another topic.)

A cynic realizes that.

Cynicism is not the CAUSE, but rather the EFFECT. Children cannot be cynical because they are too innocent and inexperienced. Life’s experiences teach us the value of cynicism. If you rob me of my cynicism, then you rob me of the fruit of my experiences. This is not to say that ALL experiences lead to cynicism, because they obviously do not. Rather it is that you cannot acquire cynicism without experience first.

But more to your point, cynicism has everything to do with MAN, and nothing at all to do with NATURE. I think I am a pretty cynical person, but I don’t cease to feel amazement, wonder, and awe with the natural world. In fact, I think some deeply cynical people are MORE drawn to nature because of that cynicism. It is there they find solace.

I think what you’re hinting at in this blog post could be more accurately described as bitterness in some cases, or perhaps more appropriately as ennui.

However, I do think we are too detached from the natural world and its processes, but that could be attributed more to industrialization and capitalism than to a “cynical” attitude.

The picture with the arch is from Arches National Park.

It took me a week and three tries to read this post because the pull of nature on my soul is so strong that the first time I tried to read your post, I began to cry. The second time, I got a bit further, but again I began to cry–can’t cry at work. Can’t read blogs there either, but what folks don’t know won’t hurt them, right? ;)

The third time, I swallowed my feelings and suppressed my tears like a real man [sic], and read all the way through.

I love this series, and I think you’re right on. Thanks.

Best,
Matt

A word of advice for fathers (I’m not a father… yet, but I have one!) – DON’T BE INTIMIDATED!!! My first camping trip was on the floor of our old van in the parking lot of our apartment complex when I was about 5 years old. It was a start. Later it was over night trips when we’d drive the Mustang up to the local campgrounds.

A 1990 Mustang is not at the top of anyone’s “Adventure Ready Vehicle” list, but we still had a great time. More importantly, it got me outside and I’ve been doing it ever since.

This latest camping trip I just got back from has become a sort of camping/mountain biking/star gazing pilgrimage. This year however, my dad rode his motorcycle down to meet me. We spent quality time mountain biking, laughing, trading stories, and that night he gave me marriage advice around the campfire (My fiancee and I are planning a November wedding). It all has to start somewhere- for me it was an overnight camping trip where my mom waved good night from our living room window.