#56 Loving Our Mother

A group of us were talking about what we love about this world we live in:
the soil and the magic of seeds growing, the way we feel when we’re in the
water, moonlight, the smells at the beach, spring peepers and fresh breezes.
There was a sense of eagerness and relief in getting to share this love so
fully and openly.

We don’t do it very much. There is so much to be afraid of about what’s
going on these days, so much to worry about. It feels hard to imagine that
any single person could make a difference in the face of the vastness of the
earth and all its natural systems. It’s terrifying to imagine that we might
be destroying the environment that is critical to our survival. Most of us
cope by trying to not think about it, by numbing off.

But what we don’t face, we can’t pay attention to. And where we don’t pay
attention, we can’t notice our connection. It’s a terrible irony. Many of
us don’t know how to face the environmental crisis because it matters to us.
And to the extent that we don’t face it, we can’t tell that we are
connected, that we care.

Connection is so important. A lot of the hurts that we carry from our
childhood have to do with loss of connection with people we were born to
love. It is similarly hurtful to lose connection with the environment, with
our mother earth. Being in touch with what we love will provide the best
leverage for moving the numbness, fears and feelings of hopelessness that
stand in our way and keep us from acting. Getting back to that birthright
of connection gets us to the solid ground we need to stand on if we really
are going to play a role in saving the planet.

As we love more openly, we may be more able to grieve. This can be about
the tiniest thing: a single tree that is cut down, a dolphin that dies, one
moment that’s hard for our children. We may be more in touch with our
rage. We may find cracks in a pervasive feeling of numbed terror, and be
able to start loosening our fears. Imagining the possibility that one tiny
little thing might change for the better can nourish our hope.

So our first job and most important job is doing whatever we can to open up
our access to those deep wells of love for this mother of ours. How can we
hope to make any bigger change if our own personal relationship with the
environment is distant or tentative or defended? In that group we talked
about what it would mean to just keep paying attention to what we love in
the natural world around us. It doesn’t have to be hard, or take a lot of
time. I thought about the ever-changing beauty of the sky—-a part of the
environment that is always available to me just by looking up. I thought
about the pleasure I get when my hands are in the soil, helping in its
incredible capacity to sustain us. As more of us remember to pay attention,
as we regain that sense of connection, our lives will be better for sure,
and more of our love and intelligence will be available to act on. This,
more than anything, is what our mother needs.

Pamela Haines
5/07



Things that give me hope:
--The little organization, Global Response, that mobilizes letter writers to
shine the light on and support environmental struggles of poor communities
around the world--and often wins.
--Women from Rwanda who have participated in conflict resolution and trauma
healing from their country's genocide, helping Burmese freedom fighters
learn the importance of peace building.
--Teenagers from an urban community center and an affluent private school
spending a weekend together, doing the hard work of reaching across lines of
class and race to find each other.
--A new campaign finance law in Philadelphia that effectively prevented
moneyed interests from controlling the outcome, so that the next mayor will
be beholden only to the voters.