Into the Heartland

I’m in the nation’s heartland deep freeze with my wife and ancient dog. We drove from the mud hut to eastern Nebraska for a brief familial visit.

I’m reminded of a previous trip to America’s breadbasket. Thoreau’s classic words came to mind as I stood in a kitchen slightly larger than the house I occupy. A sign on the wall read, “Simplify.” I nearly recommended, as a decent start, throwing away the nearby sign reading, “Simplify: Throw Everything Out.”

On the current adventure, which began six days ago, we drove across the plains of San Augustin, home of the Very Large Array (VLA). The VLA brings to mind how much time, energy, and fiat currency we spend looking for answers out there. As if our problems and predicaments can be solved if we just look long enough into deep space (hence into deep time). Maybe the aliens will save us, if we behave.

Or maybe not. Perhaps we could have spent all that time, energy, and fiat currency looking inward instead. I suspect the costs would have been lower in every case, and the rewards greater.

We spent the night in Dodge City, Kansas and reached our destination the following day. As such, we were able to get the hell out of Dodge and also proclaim we’re not in Kansas any more, all in the same day. Obviously, the twin proclamations made the trip worthwhile.

Turning my own thoughts inward in the wake of the solstice, I wrote the following ode to the living planet. Channeling Nero, I share it here, and ask for yours in return.

Winter solstice

I thought my darkest day was me, running to you,
forsaking the life I loved.

That hopeful day, so long ago, was challenging,
but not nearly as difficult as this.

The only thing worse than me running way
is this society pushing Nature away.

When I ran away I had hope for the living planet
and I got along fine.

When we push Nature away, we’re deep in a well
and we’ve destroyed all that matters on this lonely planet.

This pain is greater than I could have imagined,
perhaps worse than I can bear.

My heart’s been shattered, ripped out,
and is lying in pieces on the indifferent ground.

I don’t know what to do and I don’t know what I want
but I know I don’t want this.

It’s not just that I’m in love with the living planet,
although that alone would be profound.

It’s that I love her madly, deeply, uncontrollably,
which causes entirely too much pain.

I miss her so, so badly.
I yearn for signs of her wit.

I miss her so, so badly.
I long to gaze into her wild places.

I miss her so, so badly.
I think about her every waking minute.

During the rare moments of fitful sleep
she fills my dreams.

I want to see her and hear her and smell her and feel her
and touch her and taste her.

I want to share what we used to share
and know what we used to know
when we were human animals,
not believing we were gods.

More than she could ever know,
I miss her, as she fades away.

More than she could ever know,
I love her, as she is pummeled to oblivion.

More than she could ever know,
I need her — we need her — as we collectively commit ecocide.

I’ve long recognized the need to protect what we love.
Either I have little company or we hate Nature.

Maybe both.

The days grow longer now
but not brighter.

____________________

My 18 December 2012 radio interview on the Enviro show in Florence, Massachusetts was archived here yesterday.

Last month’s presentation in Louisville has been the subject of considerable online babble. A recent essay, linked here, provides a compelling overview.