Something to Celebrate

Sacred Earth

“Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature—the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.”

Rachel Carson (Silent Spring, 1962)

          Before Silent Spring, Rachel Carson wrote The Sea Around Us, in which she said this: “But the sea, though changed in a sinister way, will continue to exist; the threat is rather to life itself.” That was published in 1951.

          I’m sitting on my porch right now surrounded by the sounds of life—birds singing their summer songs, people talking to one another on the street as they walk their dogs, in the distance, a train whistles its approach to a street crossing. Clearly, life goes on. It is tenacious, resilient, and determined to continue. We witnessed just how quickly the earth can turn itself around when humans stop their incessant activities. During the first three months of the pandemic lock down, we saw mama bears with cubs on beaches—not in Alaska, but on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. We saw lions sleeping unafraid in roadways, and a diminishing of the ozone hole. I am counting more fireflies this year than in recent memory because people could not pour chemicals on their lawns. The earth will recover. It is we who are threated.

          This is the fourth of July weekend. Independence Day in America. We are in the middle of a pandemic that we have handled miserably. Instead of a downturn, our numbers are going up exponentially. The reason for this? Human behavior—i.e. the determination of people to resist staying at home and wearing a mask when they go out. Human behavior is responsible for the threat to life in nature, and in the pandemic. Some of us mistakenly believe that our freedom to resist authoritative guidance is more important than the lives that might be saved by the simple gesture of wearing a mask. That kind of human behavior is at the root of most of the problems we face in the 21^st century.

          I hope we will spend this 4^th of July weekend, not gathering to explode fireworks while we whoop and holler and spread the virus to one another, but quietly contemplating the beauty of the earth, and how much we love and draw strength from it. Whether oceans and lakes, mountains and streams, or forests and deserts—this land is a sacred gift from the Creator. It is to be cherished and cared for. Let’s celebrate that.

                                                  In the Spirit,

                                                  Jane