Green Options

On my walk the other morning, I passed by a point in the woods where two pileated woodpeckers seemed to be in the throes of a frenzied debate. Listening to their contrapuntal cacophony, I could not help but think they had escaped from nature’s version of a psychiatric ward. And this is true for the whole lot of them. Perhaps, many eons ago, the first pileated slammed its face into a tree one too many times. (And you have to wonder what the other animals must have thought when that first winged oddity of black and white and red showed up on the scene.
“What on Earth is that thing?” one wooly mammoth asks another.
“Beats me.”
“And why does he keep head butting that tree?”
“I dunno. Must be a loon.”
“You got that right. That one sure won’t last long.”)

As I rambled on, pondering over the evolutionary conundrum that is the pileated woodpecker, I became more aware of the entire environmental aria that I had been missing while lost in my own little mental world. Ah, the tyranny of thinking….

It was really just grand (the aria, that is). Every note on the scale was being hit by some living instrument at some moment. The measures were not quite in sync, for sure, and yet the melodies came together in a strangely enthralling harmony that carried me with it as I tripped along.

In my previous posts on sacred places, I have claimed that:
1) Sacred places in our past are crucial for making us appreciate nature and formulate an ecological consciousness. So they are crucial for environmentalism.
2) Sacred places are readily available in our present lives, not isolated to extreme or remote locations. So if we want to save the wilderness/wildness in nature and the wildness in people, then we have to recognize and sanctify the nature in our lives and the nature in ourselves.

Now (for the sake of time), I would like to say a bit about sacred places future.

How can we ensure that our children and those beyond have places that they can hold sacred? Obviously, on a general level we have to continue (increase!) efforts to preserve species, habitats, resources, and overall biological diversity. That goes without saying. I want focus here on how we can ensure that our children will be sensitive to nature–that every future generation can be a Generation W (Wild) filled with lots and lots of little green men and women.

Even as we fall more and more under the tyranny of technology, even as we enter a “brave new world” that is more like the one Huxley envisioned than Shakespeare, there are many possible sacred places for future children. But I think some of the most will be green homes, green schools, and green screens.

No, my title is not a pickup line overheard at a recent Earth Day festival (though it bloody well could be!).

Instead, what I refer to here is how the environmental movement is far from homogenous if one truly looks at the diversity of individual motives and methods for going green. The green movement is a patchwork quilt, each patch distinct and yet firmly sewn to those around it, all of them sewn together into one single, strong fabric. E Pluribus Unum.

And I think this diversity is a good thing overall. If environmentalism followed a cookie-cutter, one-size-fits-all paradigm, then I doubt it would ever have been or continue to be a vibrant, viable reality in our lives. More importantly, this diversity allows more and more individuals to practice sustainable living and so reduce humanity’s footprint on the fragile soil of our Earth. In the end, then, every shade of green may be a good one.1

But that statement begs the question: What’s Your Green?

In order to help you answer that very tricky question, I have compiled a list, in no particular order, of some of the many shades of green visible in the world today:

* Single Green Fe/Male: This shade includes any environmentalist actively seeking a significant other. These folks see all Earth Day festivals, rallies, and so forth as opportunities to schmooze and scope for hotties.

* Greenalicious: Any desirable or eye-catching person, place, or thing related to the environment or environmentalism. A frequent term used by the SGFs and SGMs.

* Spring Greening: These people seem to follow the seasons physically and emotionally. They like only spring and summer, when things are warm, alive, and growing. If you have Seasonal Affective Disorder, then you fall in this shade.

* Ooey Gooey Green: All the folks who turn into poets, philosophers, and purveyors of grand clichés whenever they see something “beautiful” (meaning just about everything) in nature.

* Virtually Green: These environmentalists spend nearly all their time online and/or otherwise partaking of nature via technology.

* Greed Green: Largely but not exclusively the shade for corporations, this variety goes green only because it brings in plenty of green. One example, and there are many, is this statement from the spokesperson of a very prominent organic produce company: “I’m not necessarily a fan of organic. … Whether we stay with organic for the long haul depends on profitability.”2 Although purists will surely bristle at all signs of this shade, I am not as quick to condemn a business or person for going green only to make a profit. Certainly I would prefer a pure heart in everything, but when companies go green in any way, even if their motives are mixed, they expand the availability of environmentally friendly products, make more people aware of environmentalism and so able to take part, and so in the end help to make a positive impact.

*Greenback: Here you find all the über-rich environmentalists–those folks with eco-friendly mansions, state-sized estates donated as easements and treated as wildlife/habitat preserves, fleets of hybrids, etc. Although Greenback does not necessarily start from a base of Greed Green, it sometimes may.

Stop Missing the Trees for the Forest!

In an earlier post, I discussed sacred places in our past and “sensory flashbacks”–how our physical senses can open up a wormhole in time and space to take us (mentally speaking) to the places in our past that we cherish. I would like to focus here on the sacred places in our present lives–that is, to discuss the dire need for recognizing the sanctity of our surroundings and why these sacred places (recognized or not) are so crucial.

Anyone who cares enough about nature to become a card-carrying, tree-hugging, thump-stumping “environmentalist”–or even to bother going green at all nowadays–surely recognizes that nature has special sacred places. Places that somehow touch the heart and stir the spirit. Places that somehow capture and convey just what it means to be alive on Earth. Yes so many people recognize that, as Gerard Manley Hopkins put it, “There lives the deepest freshness deep down things.”1

When people think of “sacred places” in nature, though, I fear they most often think that these are also “wild places” exclusively. They believe that nature’s true majesty is found in the places where the human footprints are well buried beneath leaves or worn away by the winds of time. And, they believe, nature is found in the places where it is at its most “extreme,” most overwhelming, and most picturesque, where the sights and sounds and smells and schizophrenia of city life seem like a nightmare vision of some distant planet.

Mark Powell over at blogfish has written a characteristically thoughtful post on the need for getting and appreciating the “wilderness experience.” What he says is really great, especially since he emphasizes that we need “to save the wildness in people” in addition to the wildness in wilderness.

Like surely all environmentalists, I believe that we need to continue protecting the most inspiring, intimidating, and “wild” places in nature. Of course!

But we also need to focus just as much, if not more, on those sacred places whose “wildness” or “naturalness” is not prominent, pristine, or necessarily imperiled. We need to recognize and cherish, to sanctify, all those sacred places in our present lives where nature sneaks in and infuses in us the wild woolly wonder of Nature.

We need to sanctify not only the “extreme” wilderness experiences but also the “boring” nature experiences.”

Today, Americans remember the many men and women who have died as part of their service to our country in the military. With fireworks and barbecues, memorial services and quiet reflection, we pause from the normal weekly grind to honor those who helped give us all that we cherish today.

In this period of remembrance, I also think that environmentalists can and should pause to reflect upon why it is they love, fight for, and, yes, fear for nature in all its many manifestations. Why, that is, they even bother to get active for, to serve the Earth.

Let me begin by asking a question: Has anyone ever saved your life?

Yes or no, I am sure you can imagine how grateful you would feel towards the person, as well as how much you would want to repay that great deed by helping ensure his or her welfare.

Well, nature literally saved my life. It was during a time of very deep depression, when health problems (physical and mental/emotional) exacerbated serious discontent with my academic work and with life in general, that I was saved by nature. Sparing you details, I can at least say that “saved my life” is no exaggeration. For I often felt like Milton’s Satan in Paradise Lost: “And in the lowest deep a lower deep / Still threatening to devour me opens wide, / To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav’n.”1

Pine needles, damp with morning dew, glistening at the edge of the road and farther off into the woods beyond.

That smell, that fantastically one-of-a-kind scent of wet pine needles.
That smell, sharp but sweet, overwhelming but easy to get used to and ignore.

That smell, wafting through town and country, rising from urban ditch and forest floor, tickling the nose’s nerves and the mind’s memories…

Wet pine needles….

And suddenly I am no longer standing on the side of a country road, warming myself in the just-out-of-the-oven rays of the morning sun like a lizard trying to turn its cold blood hot.

No, now I am back in my aunt and uncle’s house, that place where the smell of pine needles greets you in the morning and tucks you in at night.

Has some sight, some sound, some smell, some taste, some feeling out in nature ever literally stopped time and sent you back in time? Has something purely sensual in the natural world opened up a wormhole and transported you through space to someplace else?

I am sure that many of you reading this have had some physical-mental “sensory flashback,” as I am calling it, through the time machine of your sensual body. And although there are many reasons why environmentalists go green, I think that these sorts of experiences play a crucial role in making us sensitive to the wonders–and the fragility–of the Earth.

French novelist Marcel Proust gives a superb account of this very phenomenon in the opening “overture” to his grand encyclopedia of sensuality A la recherché du temps perdu (In Search of Lost Time, 1913-27). After eating a bit of a small cake, called a “petit madeleine,” dipped in lime-blossom tea, Proust’s narrator has a profound sensory flashback that launches the novel itself:

No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shudder ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, something isolated, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory–this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me, it was me. I had ceased now to feel mediocre, contingent, mortal.

Pop Quiz: The following are statements made by each of the current presidential candidates–Hillary Clinton, John McCain, and Barack Obama. Try to match the comment with the candidate. For answers, see the end of this posting.

1) “My friends, I am most proud of the change that I brought about in Iraq that saved Americans’ lives.”1

2) “Change is just a word without the strength and experience to make it happen. And I know some people think you have to choose between change and experience. Well with me, you don’t have to choose.”2

3) “…the ways of Washington must change. The genius of our founders is that they designed a system of government that can be changed. And we should take heart, because we’ve changed this country before. … This campaign has to be about reclaiming the meaning of citizenship, restoring our sense of common purpose, and realizing that few obstacles can withstand the power of millions of voices calling for change.”3

No matter how difficult this little quiz was for you, I hope my general point is fairly clear. It seems that nowadays, if someone has any aspiration for any political position, from commander-in-chief to bridge-club president, then that person must be seen as the “candidate for change.” (If somehow President Bush were allowed to run for a third term, would he too try to sell himself as the “candidate for change”?)

And it is not just politics. Even environmentalism and other areas of social activism are simply electrified with the energy of “change.”

Again and again, we see or hear Mahatma Gandhi’s monumental statement, “You must be the change you want to see in the world.” If he were alive today and we gave him a nickel for every time someone used this phrase, the poor man would have a terrible time maintaining his vow of poverty!

So we are told we must be the change by making changes in our lives; we are asked to take part in activities that are making change; we support organizations that are working for change; we get inspired and fired up by promises of real change soon to come; we hear about all the changes that have been and will be made by this, that, or another….

At this point, you will have to forgive me if I say that I am simply sick of change.

Or at least all of his minions do.

For every person that has or has had a bird feeder, I need not say more.

Clearly, I am no fan of squirrels–I do not wear T-shirts with cute little squirrel faces, I do not have little stuffed squirrel dolls, I do not have baseball caps with fuzzy squirrel tales waving off the back.

But still, I believe they are some of the most astounding beings on this planet.

And of course some of the most bloody frustrating!!!

With all of my (so-called) education and (supposed) ingenuity, with all of the technological and industrial/mechanical gadgets available to me, I am constantly thwarted by those little demons in gray fur. Just when I think a new ruse has succeeded in keeping their grubby little paws out of my bird seed, alas! They find a way to break the bank (and often break my feeder!)

Now, let me explain. Birds are probably my greatest joy. I can find no better virtual embodiment of the life-force itself. It seems that everything they do, from their songs to their hopping about, is purely an act of delight and self-expression. Birds pulled me up out of a serious, years-long period of depression; they also opened me up to the greater glories of nature, thus starting me on my path to environmentalism.

So when the squirrels come between me and my beloveds, I am pushed closer to breaking my vow of ahimsa (non-violence) than at any other point….

I know many other bird lovers, whatever their particular relationship with their feathered friends, share my frustration with these fuzzy felons from the flames of Hell. Just one of the many testaments to their nigh unconquerable deviousness is the endless variety of “squirrel-proof bird feeders” (probably the biggest oxymoron in the English language—right up there with a “Light Twinkie” and, if you really think about it, “Sustainable Development”). While capitalist CEOs may delight at yet another niche to cater to (and profit from), desperate birders fork out cash for these and many other anti-squirrel devices. But to no avail.

And so again and again, no matter what I do, the squirrels find some way to plunder my stores.

It is not so much that they eat all the food. In fact, they consume much less than many of the birds–blue jays, for example.

It is not so much the fact that they scare away all the birds as they sit on or in the feeders nibbling on a seed, chattering in gluttonous glee, and whipping their little tails in a show of satisfied victory. (Ah, they are some of the most vainglorious creatures on Earth. You can tell they are mocking you and laughing at you, singly and in a collective harmonious unison, as they sit there chit-chatting from tree limb to tree limb.)

No, it is the simple fact that they beat you–once again, they beat you.

Scientists Oliver Pergams and Patty Zaradic have coined the term “videophilia” to describe “the new human tendency to focus on sedentary activities involving electronic media”.1 So humans now seem to suffer from an ailment involving a craze for nature as delivered through various media–TV shows, movies, magazines, pictures, etc. Rather than getting out and getting dirty, many folks are “experiencing” the natural world from the comfort of their couch, remote in hand, HDTV set to “stunning,” sound system at full blast, and snacks and drinks within arm’s reach. Lights! Camera! Action!

Having received the Planet Earth complete series on DVD as a birthday gift this year, I have witnessed just how fascinating and enlightening these presentations of the Earth can be. After watching the series (I was hooked after the very first episode), I felt a newfound respect for the Earth; equally powerful was a sense of dedication to preserving all of those wonderful things that the show explored. And there is no way I would have been able to go to the Himalayas, to the African deserts, to the depths of the oceans, to both poles, or to so many other places. Simply put, this birthday gift was one of the best I have ever gotten. (THANKS MOM!)

Through secondhand knowledge (I do not own a television myself), I understand just how popular nature-related programs have become on TV. Thanks to channels like Animal Planet, the Discovery Channel, and PBS, the Earth has become quite a “celebrity” on the small (and, in some cases, big) screen. Like me with Planet Earth, then, millions of people across the planet are gaining new insights about the planet they live and depend upon; perhaps they are gaining newfound respect and love for that planet, too.

So I commend all of these media outlets for what they have done in making the Earth a modern-day pop star. At their best, they provide knowledge that would never be acquired (or even pursued?) otherwise.

But, skeptic and pessimist and Luddite that I am, I have to agree with Pergams and Zaradic in their concerns about this outbreak of videophilia. Those same HDTV screens can be double-edged swords, since the comfort and convenience of nature-on-the-screen all too easily makes the real natural world dispensable, as it were. Why go outside and look at the same old trees and flowers and birds and critters when you can see exotic species, faraway landscapes, and unsolved mysteries in a climate-controlled, hi-def, fully snacked world inside your house? Why bother preserving nature if it is already “preserved” on a DVD or TV reruns?

Once upon a time, I came to a stop at the intersection of two country roads on the outskirts of Charlottesville, Virginia. Dutifully and lawfully stopped in my car, dutifully and lawfully looking both ways before turning, I happened to notice a scattering of plastic cigar tips on the pavement.

At first I was perplexed: Why would someone empty his or (less likely) her ashtray at an intersection? And why cigars?

But then my confusion turned to consternation. Here I was, stopped atop a pile of someone’s waste after having just driven over the mighty Rivanna River, with mountains and trees and blossoms and birds and blue sky virtually enveloping my senses, and now plastic cigar tips present themselves to my perception!

Alas, my heart sank like a stone in that roiling river I had just traversed.

Ever since that traumatic experience in an otherwise idyllic setting, the presence of human detritus has grown ever more prominent in my environmental awareness. Fast-food containers, plastic grocery bags, soda-pop bottles, sometimes even car parts—-here, there, everywhere, it seems that humanity is only visible in the things it has thrown away.

Almost everywhere nowadays, not just in my fairly rural locale, any patch of grass or stand of trees seems be a field of litter waiting for harvest.

But the farmers and the field hands seem to be sleeping in this season.