Earth Mother Essay
Where to begin when writing An account of the Dedicant's efforts to work with nature, honor the Earth, and understand the impacts and effects of the Dedicant's lifestyle choices on the environment and/or the local ecosystem and how she or he could make a difference to the environment on a local level.
Better to ask…
When was I first aware that the world around me was pulsing and vibrating with an energy and a presence far beyond myself?
In one of the photo albums in my mother’s basement there is a picture of a chubby, bald headed, infinitely adorable baby (me, of course) crouched on fat knees and pudgy hands with a brow as furrowed as an American chestnut split-rail concentrating on the grass beneath its hands as if thinking, What the hell is this? Since then, as I notice new bits and fragments of the natural world I often have a similar reaction, though my wrists have slimmed a bit.
As a child my father often took me hiking through the Virginia forests. During the hike, we would stop and he would quiz me about the trees surrounding us-if I failed to identify a neighboring tree he would turn away is silent disapproval. Winter hikes were no exception and I dreaded the days of bark-identification. Just because a man’s hair has fallen off, you should still recognize him as your grandfather-I don’t know if my father ever said that to me, but he could have. I am no expert on trees, I know this, but I am comforted as I walk or drive about that the trees that surround and reach above me are familiar, that they feel like friends.
How does that self-indulgent dip into my childhood relate to my efforts to honor the Earth? Well, Daddy always referred to the Blue Ridge as God’s Country and during those hikes and camping trips he instilled in me a deep appreciation for the natural world around me. Hikes took the place of Sunday church services, in fact they were the only thing that could so perhaps that is why I chose a religious path that holds worship services in the woods. Still, I am not answering the question of how I honor Her…
I honor Her when I sit at my desk and, instead of doing work, am moved almost to tears because the day lilies are glowing. I honor Her when I explain to my neighbor’s daughter that she is lucky because she has a hemlock tree in her front yard. I honor Her when I use only native plants in my yard.
Living in a tiny village in Guatemala brought home the truth that life is interconnected and that our every action impacts our environment. The water in San Lucas came from Lake Atítlan and all the roads in town sloped down to her shore. The closest thing to a water filtration system we had was that the water was naturally filtered a bit through the volcanic ash that was the soil. Every single thing that was thrown out a door, dumped on the street, even spilled on the floor of the house (for most floors were dirt) was going to go into that lake eventually. Intellectually I knew this. It was when we decided to paint the house we were left with a bucket of paint thinner. How far are we willing to go for human comfort and convenience when we know how serious an impact on our environment our actions will have? Are we willing to live with mice or do we put out poison know a black snake or owl might eat that mouse? Am I willing to let poison ivy grow in my raspberries or will I put poison on its leaves and thus into the ground? Would I rather paint a dingy hallway a bright color or not have paint thinner in my drinking water? In my morbid moments I think that, as an avowed tap-water drinker, the water I poison will probably poison me…now that’s what I call karma!
Where to begin when writing An account of the Dedicant's efforts to work with nature, honor the Earth, and understand the impacts and effects of the Dedicant's lifestyle choices on the environment and/or the local ecosystem and how she or he could make a difference to the environment on a local level.
Better to ask…
When was I first aware that the world around me was pulsing and vibrating with an energy and a presence far beyond myself?
In one of the photo albums in my mother’s basement there is a picture of a chubby, bald headed, infinitely adorable baby (me, of course) crouched on fat knees and pudgy hands with a brow as furrowed as an American chestnut split-rail concentrating on the grass beneath its hands as if thinking, What the hell is this? Since then, as I notice new bits and fragments of the natural world I often have a similar reaction, though my wrists have slimmed a bit.
As a child my father often took me hiking through the Virginia forests. During the hike, we would stop and he would quiz me about the trees surrounding us-if I failed to identify a neighboring tree he would turn away is silent disapproval. Winter hikes were no exception and I dreaded the days of bark-identification. Just because a man’s hair has fallen off, you should still recognize him as your grandfather-I don’t know if my father ever said that to me, but he could have. I am no expert on trees, I know this, but I am comforted as I walk or drive about that the trees that surround and reach above me are familiar, that they feel like friends.
How does that self-indulgent dip into my childhood relate to my efforts to honor the Earth? Well, Daddy always referred to the Blue Ridge as God’s Country and during those hikes and camping trips he instilled in me a deep appreciation for the natural world around me. Hikes took the place of Sunday church services, in fact they were the only thing that could so perhaps that is why I chose a religious path that holds worship services in the woods. Still, I am not answering the question of how I honor Her…
I honor Her when I sit at my desk and, instead of doing work, am moved almost to tears because the day lilies are glowing. I honor Her when I explain to my neighbor’s daughter that she is lucky because she has a hemlock tree in her front yard. I honor Her when I use only native plants in my yard.
Living in a tiny village in Guatemala brought home the truth that life is interconnected and that our every action impacts our environment. The water in San Lucas came from Lake Atítlan and all the roads in town sloped down to her shore. The closest thing to a water filtration system we had was that the water was naturally filtered a bit through the volcanic ash that was the soil. Every single thing that was thrown out a door, dumped on the street, even spilled on the floor of the house (for most floors were dirt) was going to go into that lake eventually. Intellectually I knew this. It was when we decided to paint the house we were left with a bucket of paint thinner. How far are we willing to go for human comfort and convenience when we know how serious an impact on our environment our actions will have? Are we willing to live with mice or do we put out poison know a black snake or owl might eat that mouse? Am I willing to let poison ivy grow in my raspberries or will I put poison on its leaves and thus into the ground? Would I rather paint a dingy hallway a bright color or not have paint thinner in my drinking water? In my morbid moments I think that, as an avowed tap-water drinker, the water I poison will probably poison me…now that’s what I call karma!