by Suzanne Duarte
The reason that we are in a climate emergency is that our western culture has been in a ‘cultural trance’ for about 60 years, drunk on oil and living in a delusional bubble. How do you tell someone that their house is on fire? Writer and Buddhist Dharmagaian Suzanne Duarte attempts to do just that.
May 18, 2009 4 Comments
Simple and fresh and fair from winter's close emerging,
As if no artifice of fashion, business, politics, had ever been,
Forth from its sunny nook of shelter'd grass — innocent,
golden, calm as the dawn,
The spring's first dandelion shows its trustful face.
– Walt Whitman
By Penny Novack
Thinking to myself, daydreaming as I watch
Golden bliss slip into my tea, the thought comes,
“How would I describe honey for those
Who will never see honey?”
Just that suddenly, visions of a world bereft
Of honey, of songbirds, of ancient groves
Take me and I see:
We have poisoned our children
Intent on neater lawns and fewer bugs.
We are excusing ourselves as if
We have no choices, as if
Ecocide is common sense.
While we kill our land’s soil,
Oceans die of our glut.
Our guts growl for meat —
Our guts growl and rivers die for miles
All that we may consume death —
Death to our waters, death to our land
Death to our air, our skies.
Such death spreads like a nacreous cloud
Across our illusions of business
As usual.
Well? Will there be honey?
Will there be flowers?
Will butterflies grow stingers to feed on
livelier fare?
And — will frogs and bats all die, all gone?
What are these visions I cannot stop?
How can you tell me the solution is
To be blind and deaf and numb?
By Jim Drescher
The Great Eastern Forest is gone.
Chopped down,
chopped up,
ground to a pulp
so we can read about the global economy while
we wipe our asses on the Great Eastern Forest.
Flushing it down the toilet bowl watersheds of our setting sun civilization,
we barely give a shit;
just call for more from the exhausted forest.
Damn the obstructionist environmentalists.
Damn the smaller-footprint freaks.
Damn the social justice junkies.
I need a new car
and a bigger house
and cheap convenient shopping at Superstore and Walmart.
I want my share.
I deserve it.
I work for it.
It isn’t my fault if I exacerbate a few problems in the forest.
It’s the government’s business
to control those nasty forestry companies…
but I need their products and
the job that spins off from what they do.
They are contributing to the economy.
I’m caught.
Too bad if it’s all going,
but what can I do about it?
I have to have what I have to have.
I have a family to feed,
kids to take to hockey practice,
shopping to do at the mall.
I’m working my heart out.
Weekends are the only time I have for golf…
maybe one ski trip at Christmas.
Don’t talk to me about disappearing forests.
Besides, they’re into sustainable forestry these days;
they’re doing lots of replanting;
the trees will grow back;
it’s a renewable resource, you know.
What do you want me to wipe my ass on, comfrey leaves?
And what do bananas have to do with the Great Eastern Forest?
You try to make everything connect.
Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme?
Next time you’re up in an airplane,
on one of those necessary business trips,
take a window seat,
hold your head against the window plastic,
peer down over the beauty strip
into the devastation that was the Great Eastern Forest.
Tilt your head;
take a broad and long view.
Imagine the forest that covered this land only a short time ago.
Next time you find your feet on the earth,
walk into one of those clearcuts,
taste the intimacy of destruction.
Now remember the vast landscape you witnessed from the air.
Make the connections.
Don’t die in denial.
Wake Up!
It may be possible to restore the Great Eastern Forest.
It will take all our gentle effort.
No more weekends of golf,
no more consumption sprees,
no more ski holidays,
only genuine and effective caring for other beings.
Is the Great Eastern Forest worth the cost of our personal comfort,
and that of our family and friends?
Waking up is not pleasurable.
Encouraging others to wake up is not always well received.
On the other hand,
Committing our lives to avoiding controversy,
to warding off death,
is futile.
Forest restoration is opening the heart,
honing one’s discriminating awareness, and
moving into a smaller seat.
The earth’s touch is painless only to the insensitive.
Flying Northwest Air
over the Great Eastern Forest
5 May 1997
Jim Drescher is a forester and a Buddhist. His is a major voice in opposing industrial forestry in Nova Scotia, Canada.
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