It’s hard for some of us to have been born into this generation. Our ability to travel, and experience the world virtually has exposed us to more of the wonders of our planet than at any time in history, and yet through this knowledge we have been brought to see how much we have lost, and continue to lose, under the impact of our way of life.
All our natural loves seem to come to us as bittersweet, and we feel our “normal life” only serves to alienate us from the land upon which we live. To feel the yielding caress of the living earth, we must cross concrete, asphalt and gravel, be accosted by the drone of the interstate, and search for those few shreds of land that have escaped our development.
Like so many ecological challenges we face, this all weighs on us heavily as grief. And in many ways we are helpless before the enormity of it all. Many, I say, but not all.
We each have our own circle of control. And for many of us, that circle extends over an actual slice of earth. Maybe it’s a few acres, maybe a few dozen square feet, but in that place we can cultivate a different reality, one where attrition is not the ruling force.
Those of you who have grown close to some of the remaining high-quality natural spaces in our region know that these places possess a unique energy. They are at once remote and familiar, and in their gratuitous dance they have a way of settling something deep within us. There, often far off the beaten track, something in us comes home.
For nearly the last decade I have sought to cultivate this homecoming. I have worked with and for nonprofits, federal and state agencies, local government, and countless homeowners to rehabilitate and recreate the wonder of our native ecology. I am energized by the healing I have experienced in these places, by the thrill of endless discovery they have brought into my life, and by the happy experience of a large part of my “normal life” not being corrosive to the general harmony of life on this planet.
So I have started something, or rather, something has started me. Maybe it’s starting you too?
Our normal life is waiting, always open for transformation. The flowers speak a language that we once knew. From the parking lots and insurance bills our deadened consciousness is called.
Be with the windswept hills and forgotten blooms. Be with the tangled roots that know your name. Be with the fading. Be with the flame. Be.
Be with life.
