1/3 -

I light candles and hope to remember what is pure and good, in the midst of what is not.

They are continuing to clear cut all the trees down below today.  I know the sound now of maples splintering, broken branches shattering as they land upon their brothers and sisters.  I know when it is a fir or hemlock coming down, each wide, wrinkled trunk smashing into a grieving mother earth.

I talked with my friend, Judy, yesterday, another woman who loves nature and walks among the trees with grace and reverence.  She has stayed here, in my home, on the land, and I realized that there are many others who are saddened by the onslaught here.  Several friends have come to camp in the summer, singing songs in the meadow, serenading the trees with sweet marimba music, hiking on the trails.  I am not alone in this.

I’m used to tending things myself here, and have tried to be an ally, a witness for the woods as the beautiful trees come down.  Judy and my friend, Terri, have offered to come hold ceremony here, in support of the tree spirits, standing and fallen, in support of me in these days of sorrow, this leveling of a forest.

I spoke with Judy about my neighbor’s honest belief that he is “taking care of his family” by logging the land.  She pointed out that he has forgotten that he is part of a bigger family, the family of all living beings on the planet.  It is a spiritual issue, and in our arrogance, our perceived need of more and more, we plunder the earth and believe these to be OUR resources, forgetting that we share the land with many, many more, each needing food and shelter, each in need of home.

What do we teach our children in the taking of the trees?  That this is the way we build up bank accounts, killing off the beauty of the very land that has held and nurtured us?  That when the money is gone we rob the mother?  As a people we simply cannot go on stealing finite oil and coal, water and forest resources forever.

I have been poor.  I have made bad financial choices.  I bought a shiny new car and got strapped for payments.  I’ve enjoyed “things” and worried later when the VISA bill came due.  I drive a car and burn up fossil fuels.  I heat my home with propane and electricity, and yes, the occasional wood stove fire.  I write these words out first before they find the computer, enjoying the feel of pen and ink sliding over paper.  I consume.

Each of us must ask the question of ourselves:  What is essential, and what is the cost, in energy, in resources?  Watching the trees fall is pause for thought - I am part of the consumption, I must be part of the consciousness that cares for the land, that thinks about these things.

I will fly to Ashley’s (my partner’s kind and thoughtful daughter) graduation this spring in Indiana.  I will fly again to DC in June to be with another bright-light daughter and her family, I have to see those cutie-pie grand daughters!  We can’t undo the progress of airplanes, and I am happy to get to go see them, but again, what is the cost?  I won’t see the oil wells that feed this plane, the pipelines that run through land that used to sit pristine and undisturbed.  Seat belted in, I will anticipate joyful reunions with this family I love.  For now, I wonder at my part.

When I return home, flying in over the checkerboard patchwork of forests left in the hills and mountains of Oregon, my Oregon, the place where I was born and have lived all of my 60 years, I will know the story of each bird and frog and ferret.  I know the cost close-up, here on the land I call home.  I have seen it for 2 weeks now; the trees come down one by one, the earth shudders, and I cry inside for all our losses.