Chiaroscuro - the light and the dark

It's easy to feel disheartened by the immensity of what we face at this time. One only has to glance at Facebook, to pick up a newspaper, or to listen to the news to feel overwhelmed by the sight of  the dying forests and coral reefs, of elephants being killed wantonly for their tusks, of wars raging, refugees suffering, indigenous tribes dealing with black oily swamps and the news that dozens, if not hundreds, of species are dying out every single day. The extent of the destruction caused by the human race is so enormous and happening so fast that it is easy to feel overwhelmed and to keep it at arm's length. 

Last Christmas I was made deeply uneasy by the uncanny warmth of the weather, by the sight of daffodils blooming in December, by the sense of wrongness in the air. In the new year, something cracked in me. I could no longer keep all this at bay. The immediate physicality of my perceptions made me finally let in the possibility that we might not be alright in the end, that we might not make it, after all. Then, I grieved. I cried every day for ten days.  I would wake up and the heaviness in my heart would remind me of the irreplaceability of what we are losing, rather in the way that when someone dies there is the realisation each morning. Oh yes, they have died.

The crying was a relief. Through my tears, I fell in love with the beauty of the winter skies. The trees moved me in their silent dependability and the birdsong became acutely exquisite. I felt more alive than ever. Living in London, I was amazed how many people returned my smile. I was almost sorry when that time passed, as it inevitably did. 

It seems to me that we are living in a time of great contrasts. As the darkness of the world becomes more obvious, so does the light become brighter. The darkness and the brightness bring each other into relief. As construction of the DAPL pipeline continues, as the people of Standing Rock come together to pray for the water and to protect their land, as I prepare for the cold, borrowing a very warm coat, buying an arctic sleeping bag and mittens, this is what I think about.

Who we are

I’ve always objected to the term, ‘the environment’. The environment is something apart; it has its own subject in school, its own section in bookshops, its own governmental department. It suggests a backdrop for humans, a stage set for our business. What it does not begin to convey is the living intelligence within trees, rocks, plants and water, within the very air we breathe, within the lions, the elephants and the stars, within the earth, the sun and the moon, within a curled up woodlouse, within us.

Reading some of the letters of support for the water protectors, I am moved by how the Apache former chairman, Wendsler Nosie Sr writes to Dave Archambault, the chairman of the Standing Rock Sioux tribe:

‘For us, Oak Flat, known to us as Chi’chil Bildagoteel has always been our connection to our Mother, our right to exist, a central part of our prayers, songs, stories and spiritual practices. It is from here that we emerged. It is who we are.’

It is this love and total connection to our Mother, the understanding that we are part of nature, which inspires me. That, along with the wise, brave commitment to remaining peaceful. It is what has called me to go out to Standing Rock.

As the police in North Dakota turn tear gas, rubber bullets and water cannons onto the activists at Standing Rock, as the injuries escalate, as the silence in the press deafens, as the lack of response from President Obama stuns, this peaceful response is, I am certain, all the more vital.

It makes me think of a time when I said no to a bully a few years ago. I was faced with threats and lies, blackmail and a court case. As someone who really dislikes conflict, this was severely testing. My way through this was to aim to be the person I wanted to be, to be brave, even if I was terrified, to sort out my affairs as best as I could so that I was beyond the reach of blackmail, and to behave as impeccably as I knew how in response to what felt like grenades being thrown in my path. It truly stretched me.

The peaceful response requires strength and patience. But most of all, it is an effective way. I think of Gandhi and the Independence of India. I think of the persistence of the suffragists, including my own great grandmother, MAM, and how they brought the vote to women in Britain, and I think of Rosa Parks who refused to stand for a white passenger on the bus. The peaceful way worked for them and it worked for me too.

I hope and pray with all my heart that it works for the water, for the land and the people of Standing Rock. I hope it works for us all.