Earthgrief
Laurel Vogel
“Human beings evolved over the course of some three million years and a hundred thousand generations in synchronistic evolution with the natural world. We are creatures who grew from the Earth, who are physically and psychologically built to thrive in intimacy with the Earth.”
“We are beginning to feel the full weight of our predicament. Discomfort, frustration, grief, rage, and fear arise as we tell the stories of our lives. To allow ourselves to feel these emotions is to come out from under the deadening of the freeways and nuclear warheads that encase our emotional lives—and of the mechanistic worldview that casts us as heartless robots and the world as a machine. To open our hearts to the sad history of humanity and the devastated state of the Earth is the next step in our reclamation of our bodies, the body of our human community, and the body of the Earth.”
My heart is heavy today with grief. I watched a difficult video yesterday about the Dann sisters in Nevada, and I dreamed last night of the Shoshone grandmother asking for sanity in our treatment of our earth. I dreamed I was weaving through trees with others with candles, honoring them. Then when I awakened, the grandmother came to me and asked, "What is wrong with your mother?"
Diseased, brutalized, scarred--treated as chattel, without voice, without reciprocal consideration, out of relationship. There is nothing wrong with the earth that we humans did not create. She is trying to speak with us and she has wisdom for those who listen. Somehow we need to listen better and communicate her words to those who tear into her as if she is the packaging on their christmas gift.
She's hardly passive, but she has been extraordinarily patient with us. She's now letting us know that we have an affect on her, and that we are doing ourselves harm by harming her. But you've heard all of this before. What is it that we need to know, really? What can we do?
I asked my husband to listen to me this morning. As I spoke of not sleeping well, suddenly the reasons for my sleeplessness came forward. The grandmothers fighting for the lands promised to them by our government. The mining of gold and making money overcoming all other concerns. The dead horses strewn on the land because no one would listen to those who knew how to care for them.
I sobbed. And who would I be if I didn't sob? If I didn't let in this great grief for these people, these horses, and the sociopathic practices of the mining companies? The grief itself does not hurt me. I let it come up and flow through me. I feel it fully, witnessed by my beloved, who hears and appreciates that I am doing this work.
I am completely preoccupied with the question, why are we suffering from this addictive disease? Why are we enabling corporations to destroy and exploit our planet? Why do we turn our ears and hearts away from the plea of the earth and the people closest to her? Why do we settle for the emptiness of malls and Big Gulps and video games and devices? For never looking into the eyes of those around us?
I must not push it aside. I must not hide from the suffering of the world. I have to look at it, straight on, and see the reality of how we've become a diseased and addicted culture. From feeling and being with my grief, my creativity will come forth. I have to trust that. I will write. I will make art. My sensitivity will increase, and my heart will break open. I will not privilege joy over sadness, and shove aside one feeling for another in the service of the American "happy imperative." We are standing in shit, and we must acknowledge that.
But most of all, I will go out onto her skin and touch it. Today, and everyday, I vow to touch the unadorned surface of this beloved planet, and in this, a deeper joy can emerge--not the superficial and shallow happiness we are almost required to have in our interactions with others who are too fragile yet to feel. Not the kind that comes from numbing my sensitivity with substances, or with self-talk that denies and minimizes the reality that surrounds us in the hard concrete, the noise, and the glittering filth of this culture. Not the kind that requires us to simply be happy, as if this is a simple choice for many of us. This is Warrior Joy. It is fierce and kind and can cut through the bullshit of plastering happy faces across real suffering. It is the sort of joy that looks truth in the eye, and still manages to trust in something that carries us all, something that will go on long after we are gone. It is the sort of joy that doesn't require a smile and it is brave enough to cry. It is the joy of feeling congruent with all that we see around us and allows us to respond appropriately. It is the joy that pools at the bottom of Earthgrief, and waits for us to partake.
And soon I will be leaving to go on quest, to continue to ask this question--how can we hear the earth? How can we send the message of the earth to those without ears to hear her? I am going to the desert, to the lands covered in sun to sit and walk and feel and grieve. And find those places that still speak to the soul, so that our healing work can begin. So that in time we can be there for others who want to come back into relationship with her. So that we can belong again to this world we've severed ourselves from.
*Earthgrief comes from My Name is Chellis and I'm Recovering From Western Civilization. Chellis Glendinning is a Psychologist turned Ecopsychologist. To read more, go here: Technology, Trauma, and the Wild.