Wednesday, May 6

Jim and I spent a couple of hours in the meadow yesterday still picking up tree limbs and branches after the devastating ice storm in January. There is a lot of work left just to clear the meadow to be mowed. The county workers came down our dirt road earlier this week, cutting all the hanging limbs and then chipping the downed trees and branches on the roadside. The local paper from Jasper said this service was funded by FEMA. Strange since over the years I have come to distrust that federal agency, but today I am grateful for the cleanup help. For the last 3 months, driving the 1 1/2 miles of dirt road out to Highway 7 has been depressing. Seeing 30 to 40% of the trees either fallen or broken in half like a snapped pencil is difficult. I am still in mourning for the loss of these beautiful trees.

Spring has helped of course. The new leaves and underbrush cover the naked bodies. Sadly, the largest dogwood near our home lays prostrate, roots pulled from the earth. Yet she opened in glorious white blossom in chorus with her upright sisters. I rejoiced with Thomas Merton's words, "the pale flowers of the dogwood outside my window are Saints". The tree is now covered with Spring green leaves. I wonder how long she can last. Looking out at the woods today, I see that Nature is healing from the storm. She is going on, though wounded. Each day the dead are more incorporated into the living.

Reading an article by Derrick Jensen in this month's Orion magazine, I started to wonder if there is a point (surely there is) when the Earth Our Mother, can't go on anymore, when she is too wounded. I have to confess that I have taken cover from this ultimate question by keeping myself busy being Green, trying to bring my own bags to the grocery store, to limit trips to town, to buy organic when possible. To this the author of the article responds:

If someone were rampaging through your home, killing those you love one by one (and for that matter, en masse), would the question burning a hole in your heart be: how should I live my life right now? I can't speak for you but the question I'd be asking is this: how do I disarm or dispatch these psychopaths? How do I stop them using any means necessary?

He then states the obvious, "If you have no planet, nobody can ask questions." You'd think perhaps that he's calling for armed insurrection of the masses against corporate and government greed. Maybe he is. But I don't think so. I am hoping that Orion will put the article on their site later this month so more people can read it and it can spur a discussion. It's provocative. He ends by asking:

What question would I ask instead? What if, instead of asking "How shall I live my life?" people were to ask the land where they live, the land that supports them, "What can and must I do to become your ally, to help protect you from this culture? What can we do together to stop this culture from killing you? If you ask that question and listen, the land will tell you what it needs. And then the only real question is: are you willing to do it?

That is of course the question. His words encourage me to take more time to listen, to not assume that I know what the Earth needs, to get out of my head and into my heart where the conversation can happen, to get out of my chair and into the woods, to look closely at the trees and streams and our neighbor the beautiful Buffalo River. Then the real work is doing what is called for. Some brave local folks here in Newton County are working to stop Carroll Electric Company from using herbicide along their "right of way" land especially in the National Forest that comprises 2/3 of the land in our county. I'm going to look into joining them. The land and especially the Earth water is shouting to be clear of these toxic chemicals. I can hear that plea already.