Gift of
Nature
“Sometimes
she heard night sounds she didn't know or jumped from lightening too
close, but whenever she stumbled, it was the land who caught her.
Until at last, at some unclaimed moment, the heart-pain seeped away
like water into sand. Still there, but deep. Kya laid her hand upon
the breathing, wet earth, and the marsh became her mother.”
Delia
Owens (Where the Crawdads Sing)
My friend Melissa and I
have had many conversations about the way we grew up as opposed to
the way many children grow up today. Both of our families lived in
small towns, where people knew each other, and the streets were walk-able and more or less safe. The major difference between our
childhoods and that of today's children was our connection to the
earth. I spent most of my childhood outside, and so did she. I hardly
ever wore shoes in summer—just to church, and whenever I had to go
to town. Instead, I developed feet tough enough to walk on the bare
earth without them. I spent many, many hours on my own in the woods,
and in creek bottoms, turning over rocks and catching crawdads and
tadpoles. I rode my bicycle all over town, and no one followed me
around fretting that I might get hurt or lost. I was free to explore,
and I did exactly that. And so did Melissa.
As a consequence of that
childhood, the earth feels like home to both of us. I know the
creatures, their habits, and have a fondness for them as much as for
my pets. I don't fear the possums and raccoons that come to the front
porch to eat cat-food. And, interestingly enough, neither does the
cat who resides there—they have mutual respect for one another. In
short, a connection to the natural world is still deeply ingrained in
my DNA, and in Melissa's. I fear that connection is being lost on the
children of today, and the disconnect is driving our heedlessness
about the needs of the earth. I can see why people, such as our
current president, who grew up in a massive city, New York, and did
not have the experience of walking barefoot on the earth, and waking
to the sound of songbirds in the trees around, would not have the
same connection or concern for the environment. But this lack of
consideration for our contribution to the destruction of this planet
will overshadow every aspect of human and animal life for the next
century. We simply must address it, or there will be no safe habitat
for us, much less our animal friends.
My solution, were it possible, would be for
everyone to have deep and regular experience of the earth, of
traipsing through the woods, and splashing in creeks. If we were more
related to the animals who make their homes among us, we would feel
differently about their habitat, and their needs for food and safety.
We would, in fact, be stewards of the earth and her creatures. I know
this is not possible for everyone, especially children living in big
cities.
So, for Christmas gifts (or Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa) this year,
consider giving the children in your life a wild adventure—not to
Disney World, but to the actual wild-kingdom. Give them opportunities
for camps and hikes and nature experiences that will put them in
direct contact with the earth and her beauties. Give them nature
walks, or earth-exploration books or classes, take them to the zoo
and talk about the animals, give them bags of food to put out for the
squirrels and chipmunks and birds living in their neighborhoods. If
the younger generations learn to love the earth and not fear it,
perhaps they will take better care of it than previous generations.
Maybe they will acquire the ethic that the earth is not simply here
to be exploited for money, but is our forever home. What a gift of
love that would be.
In the Spirit,
Jane
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