Living Things
“...We are still living things surrounded by living things.”—Sam ‘Ohu Gon
I have lost my sense of being a living thing surrounded by living things.
When I was in Greensboro, I was in that space. Not only did my dog Tess’s and my trips to Hanging Rock help with that, but my neighborhood was wooded, we frequently went to the wooded park near my house, and we went almost daily to a nearby patch of woods that had been (temporarily) left out of plans for “development.” I lived surrounded by trees, shrubs, flowers, birds, squirrels, bats, bugs—a whole gamut of wildlife that was within steps of my house, that I could visit whenever I wanted to.
I feel far from all that life now, and I have for years. Now when I walk, the grass is mown and the walkway is gravel or asphalt. When I do go somewhere where wildness still exists, however attenuated, like McCormick’s Creek, I feel like a stranger wandering among strangers. I no longer know the trees and plants and birds, and I no longer feel that they recognize and accept me. I’m an intruder who has failed to keep in touch with them, who has failed to love them.
And yet I really don’t much like the environment of the world I do live in. Everything has the stamp of humanity on it. Weeded. Edged. This world is one that humans are continually working to control, to enforce boundaries on. Emerging from the snatches of woods that line our neighborhoods, deer look confused, bounding toward a world that has become hard to find. They are strangers wandering among strangers.
Forays to Minnetrista, to Mounds or McCormick’s Creek, to the acres of the Red-Tail Land Conservancy, are no real answer. I’m only a tourist. My world is concrete and mortar, plastic, electronics, and synthetic entertainment. My air is heated, cooled, recirculated. Despite my comfort, I don’t belong here either, and I only lose my sense of alienation through distraction. Quick trips to “nature” are just another distraction.
I love my husband, my brother, my cat. These loves are real. They dwell at my center. I enjoy my acquaintances, but I no longer know how to be a friend.
I’m no longer in touch with the natural, and, as a result, I’m no longer fully human.
“We are in a world in which the consequences of our actions are leading to the loss of beloved things….Get used to it, gang, that’s one of the lessons. That’s what you need to respond to and form your relationship with if you’re going to stay in a place.” —Sam ‘Ohu Gon