Greetings new and old subscribers! I’m composing this message from my phone because my laptop is currently on a moving truck headed across the country. Yes, my house has been sold, and I am off to Maine on Saturday! My dream to move began during the pandemic, and three years later, the day has finally arrived!
April 22nd is also Earth Day, which seems oddly fitting because the environment is the main reason why we decided to leave Colorado in the first place. You may be familiar with the stunning mountain vistas of the state’s national parks and ski resorts. The photographs make it look like an ideal place to live — a paradise on earth — but the cities tell a different tale. The Rocky Mountains might be visible on a clear day, but construction is the sight that greets you every time you leave the house. Bulldozers, mounds of dirt, and new buildings pop up like weeds on every square inch of land. This has resulted in massive loss of habitat for local wildlife. Deer, coyotes, bobcats, bears, foxes, and other small critters such as rabbits and mice are now fixtures in subdivisions because they have nowhere else to go. It’s heartbreaking to see these wild creatures reduced to neighborhood scavengers. The theme song for the state of Colorado should be ‘Big Yellow Taxi’ by Joni Mitchell. (Although I have always preferred the Counting Crows version)
The other day when I went out for groceries, I was disturbed by the miles and miles of businesses, fast food joints, hotels, and overpriced townhouses near the Denver airport. The sad part? They are still building! It’s just one endless stretch of bulldozed wasteland. Colorado is a high desert that gets very little rain, so whenever the wind kicks up, the dirt becomes airborne. This makes going outside a miserable experience. Combine that with the worsening air quality from traffic pollution and wildfires, and you have the reason for my departure.
During my downtime at the hotel, I’ve been listening to The Way of the Rose by Clark Strand and
. If you enjoy spiritual commentary about the environment, I highly recommend it. The book has made me think of Our Lady and praying the rosary in a whole new way. Here are a few powerful excerpts to pique your interest:“Ours is the rising anxiety of a culture hell bent on ecocide. That is why we need so many different drugs to medicate us — and electronic devices to distract us — just to make it through an ordinary day. We don’t want to stop. Meanwhile, we hope that some soon to be discovered technology will miraculously clean up all the many messes we have made. That is the hope of the addict: that we can go on forever as we have, despite the evidence that it is killing us.”
“Coming to terms with what we have done is not going to be easy. Recovering means acknowledging all the pain that our addiction has caused other beings. That certain heartbreak is what frightens addicts most. How do we make amends? How do we take responsibility for the suffering we have caused? How do we find our way back to the garden of the world? The good news is that we don’t have to do that work alone. If the fundamental state of the addict is isolation from others, what offers lasting healing is being in community again. Especially with others who are willing to admit what they have done, and who they want to be. The hope of the sober is that healing is possible, and that a new life — very different from the one we were committed to before — can grow from the ashes of our sorrows.”
The Way of the Rose made me realize that humans have stopped looking upon the Earth as their mother. We don’t say “Mother Nature” anymore, and this loss of language has allowed society to distance themselves from the life-giving powers of the Earth. Without an emotional link to the landscape and all the creatures who reside there, it has become easier to tear down trees and build cities; to pollute rivers and oceans; to cause mass extinctions from loss of habitat. The quest for dominion over the natural world has led to a physical and spiritual detachment between our bodies and the very ground we walk upon. If we are constantly surrounded by asphalt and concrete instead of green, growing spaces, how are we supposed to feel a connection with our magnificent planet? We need to start viewing the Earth as our Mother again — much like John Francis Waller’s poem, ‘The Song of the Earth.’
***
Lay down thy head upon thy mother’s breast,
The green and bountiful Earth,
From which thou hadst thy birth,
Here, Man, ’tis meet that thou shouldst take thy rest.
Why wouldst thou vainly seek to rise?
Thy spirit hath no wings to soar;
Let the fond frenzy trouble thee no more;
Thou cannot pierce those dreamy, distant skies.
Here are sweet sounds to woo thee to repose;
The crimson-breasted robin’s chirping note,
The mellow blackbird with his song-swoll’n throat,
And the loud-whistling thrush.
Here waveless flows the peaceful river, with low lullaby:
Look in its clear, blue deeps, and thou wilt find
A softer image pictured to the mind
Than that thou look’st on in the glistening sky.
Why shouldst thou seek to rise? All gentler things,
With a true instinct, ever downward glide.
The fountains trickle down the mountain side;
Even the grey mist, that in the morning springs
Upwards, a little while, towards the sun,
That feeds upon its sweetness, soon returns
Back to the loving earth, as one that mourns,
In a soft dew before the day is done.
Why wouldst thou rise? Has not a mother’s love
Cared for thy every want — thy every wish?
Fruit in the fields, and in the rivers fish?
Jewels, and ores, and vestments? Thou mayst rove
O’er flower-painted plains at dewy morn,
Where wave ripe meadows and the yellow corn,
And ’mid the shades of dreamy eventide,
By the still waters of some wood-girt lake
Thy sweet, contemplative repose may take,
Watching the cygnets on its bosom glide.
In the hot noontide thou canst seek the shade
Of the cold grotto or the sylvan glade.
Where, through the interlacing forest trees,
With not ungentle hand, some wandering breeze
A moment puts aside their leafy hair,
So that the fresh and flower-scented air
Creeps in, and through the rich, umbrageous roof
The gorgeous sun-rays fall upon the grass,
Shattered by leaf and branches as they pass,
Verdure and light interweaved like warp and woof.
At moonlight by the Ocean thou mayst sit,
Where amorous waves steal on the sleeping strand,
And hear the surf along the golden sand
Break sobbingly, as grieving to retreat
From the fair earth back to its own sea-home,
Leaving behind a line of silvery foam
Where the waves’ rippling lips last kissed the land.
Rest while thou mayst, for rest thou must at last
Upon my bosom. Birds that farthest roam
Into the upper realms, must still come home
Unto that peaceful, lowly-lying nest,
With faint and folded wings, to take their rest,
And hush their song when light of day is past.
***
If you’d like to delve into the current issues with the eco movement (and how “sustainability” is being used by corporate interests to exploit the Earth even further), then allow me to point you towards
's brilliant essay:Or perhaps you might want to honor Earth Day by watching an animated film. One of my childhood favorites was FernGully: The Last Rainforest, which is available to watch on YouTube. It had a profound impact on me when I was young because it made me aware of deforestation. Movies for children are great at presenting complex issues in an easy to understand way that fosters empathy instead of division. As long as we continue to write about the natural world through stories, it is possible to change the hearts and minds of people. And with each enlightened soul, we get that much closer to saving Mother Earth.
~~~~~
Other resources:
https://www.animationforadults.com/2016/06/ferngully-last-rainforest-1992.html
https://wayoftherose.org/
Your reasons for moving resonate with me. In the last few years I've seen my wee town in Scotland expand at a frightening rate. New houses, chain supermarkets and a certain tax-avoiding coffee company (will let you guess which) built on wild land...it's no longer the quiet, Scottish town I grew up in :(
Humanity has lost all sanity in the continual need to consume and destroy without end. The earth is to be honored and nurtured just as it nurtures us. Oh The Way of the Rose is a book I have read and reread! The rosary and devotion to our great mother is what has saved my own sanity and has gotten me through the hard times. It is the best meditation method for me and never fails to calm my racing mind. Good luck on your move, Daisy Anne! I look forward to the bits you share with us about your new adventures in Maine!