nature

Blogtour: Awe and the Environment

Snapshot 2007-04-23 10-21-01

I am humble when I remember that the sea is so large and my boat is so small. I've carried this quotation around in my head for years; I understand that it is a prayer, but I cannot find a source for it. No matter. In my relationship to the earth, it is apt.

I have wandered often in the woods, seeking truth and solace. And, each year, I take risks, stupid risks, because my own hubris tells me that I will always be able to think my way out of whatever nature throws my way. Frequently, my biggest problem is that for a wanderer, I have a lousy sense of direction, and like Hansel and Gretel, I try to leave behind small traces of myself, markers, so that when I leave, I can find my way back to safety.

Sometimes, I think that those who would deny that global warming is taking place, that the earth is in trouble, should be required to spend a week in the wilderness. Not in some tourist hotel at the edge of the glacier, but sleeping in tents, cooking over open fires, dealing with the elements as they present themselves. And Lord, they do present themselves.


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Hope On My Tongue

Photo 161

Look, I want to love this world

as though it's the last chance I'm ever going to get

to be alive

and know it.


Mary Oliver, "October"



I woke up with hope on my tongue this morning. It was a sweetness on the flesh of my lips, a tiny taste of something larger than myself, some reason to get up this morning and partake of a mad world.

I have been resentful as hell that it's autumn. But this morning, something shifted.
I have spent the past couple of weeks in fear. Dread, from the Old English, ondrædan may be a better word. My fearful self counseled against staying here through another winter. Winter here is cruel. There is no mercy in the January wind, no safe place to walk when treacherous February freezes every surface.

As much as I love autumn, its beauty is ominous. And for the past two weeks, I've allowed that sense of fear to cloud my ability to see the beauty around me. To lose track of time and space and my own heartbeat amidst the roar and rush of fear.

Photo 154


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Words to live by

I have this to say about the radicals: I love you. But you don’t have to look to hard to find examples, among us, of some of the same things being rightly criticized in the Brittney Gilbert blogswarm referenced above. An example:

It’s a fine thing to slam someone for writing something you find offensive. It’s another thing to slam someone for not writing something the way you would have, or for writing about a subject other than the one you think they ought to have picked.

It’s a fine thing to criticize someone moderating comments on their blog in a way you don’t agree with, but it’s another to slam someone for not moderating comments on their blog 24/7.

It’s a fine thing to decide that your blog has a specific mission. It’s another to decide that your blog’s mission is the only mission any blog should have.

In short, it’s one thing for you to be disappointed in or angered by bloggers with whom you share some political viewpoints.

It’s another to assume they owe you anything other than basic human respect because you’ve done them the favor of reading their work.


— Chris Clarke, publisher of the blog Fault Line in his brilliant post, Resignation: An Open Letter To The


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