Ecological Politics and Riprap

It's obviously human hubris to think we can destroy the planet, can destroy life. It's just another exaggeration of ourselves.

 A kind of bottom line is that all human activity is as trivial as anything else. We can humbly acknowledge that and excuse ourselves from exaggerating our importance, even as a threat, and also recognize the scale and the beauty of things. And then go to work. Don't imagine that we're doing ecological politics to save the world. We're doing ecological politics to save ourselves, to save our souls. It's a personal exercise in character and in manners. It's a matter of etiquette. It's a matter of living right. It's not that the planet requires us to be good to it. It's that we must do it because it's an aesthetic and ethical choice.

 Those issues are all real, but they're not total. And the power of the universe far surpasses any damage we can do to it.

Gary Snyder, Tricycle Magazine interview, adapted from Nobody Home: Writing, Buddhism and Living in Places, by Julia Martin and Gary Snyder 

If you're like me, you feel a rising panic about the state of the ecological world. You feel inadequate to the task and perhaps even complicit. You feel like your thoughts are free-floating and ineffectual. Your attempts to reduce your carbon footprint, to tread lightly, to support environmental causes seem paltry in the face of population explosions, oil-slicked animals along the coast, a contaminated food supply, and an over-medicated population whose urine and feces are laced with chemicals that are then flushed into the water and recycled, squirted from our breasts into babies' mouths and onward. That was a hellish sentence, no?

I read Gary Snyder's provocative words, excerpted above, and felt, if not comforted, then galvanized. I'd love to hear what you think of them -- even if you have no Buddhist leanings.

Here's a Gary Snyder poem -- one of my favorites:


Riprap

Lay down these words
Before your mind like rocks.
               placed solid, by hands
In choice of place, set
Before the body of the mind
               in space and time:
Solidityof bark, leaf, or wall
               riprap of things.
Cobble of milky way.
               straying planets.
These poems, people,
               lost  ponies with
Dragging saddles -
               and rocky sure-foot trails.
The worlds like and endless
                four-dimensional
Game of Go.
                ants and pebbles
In the thin loam, each rock a word
                 a creek-washed stone
Granite: ingrained
                 with torment of fire and weight
Crystal and sediment linked hot
                 all change, in thoughts,
As well as things.

Gary Snyder

Mondays and Mindfulness and Conflict

Happy Monday. I generally wake on Mondays glad. No Monday, Monday can't trust that day. This morning, Henry and I woke an hour later because school started an hour later. The sun came through the dining room windows and lit on my yellow coffee cup so beautifully that I had to take a picture, felt grateful -- not in the way that is all the rage, that we're supposed to be -- but simply. Thank you, I thought, for this yellow cup, for that sun, for this day.

This weekend I went to a lovely party for a dear friend's birthday. A group of women sat outside by her pool, drank wine and laughed and talked and ate delicious food. At one point in our dinner, a few of us got into what wasn't so much a fight but rather a conflict about what's happening in the world, specifically in the Middle East -- in Israel, in particular. Yikes, right? Who in their right mind gets involved in such conflicts over dinner? Good friends can -- and do -- but it's still difficult. Voices were raised. Emotions were high and visible. My heart beat fast, especially when I was told, You're wrong! I won't go into the particulars, because that isn't my point on this sunny yellow coffee cup radiant Monday morning. We all paddled around the pool, even after the dinner and the disagreements and the emotion. All is well.

This morning, though, I began to listen to this video linked by Tricycle Magazine and was so struck by it -- by the synchronicity of getting the link in my inbox so soon after the uncomfortable conflict:

A Zen Approach to Conflict

If you have twenty minutes and are interested, I encourage you to listen to the video. The teacher, Diane Musho Hamilton, describes "three typical responses to disagreement, which correspond with Buddhism's three poisons: greed, aversion, and delusion. By learning to identify our patterns of slinking away from or escalating disputes, we take the first step toward transforming tense relationships into vibrant connections." If you practice mindfulness, it will be especially illuminating. This first "lesson" outlined not only the different and general ways we deal with conflict but suggests we begin to be mindful of how we respond when conflict happens. It's the first of a series, and I think I'm going to benefit a lot from listening to all of them. I was thinking it could help me move forward with nearly everything that I engage in -- not just my relationships with friends and family, but what happens when I interact with the systems of care for Sophie, and the ongoing fears I have as I vaccinate my sons, which currently rank up there as the most closely aligned body/mind issues I have experienced. I'm interested to hear what ya'll think.

Seahorse Days of August

August 2010

I can sit in the cheap garden chair, coffee in a yellow cup on the arm and the small fountain that Oliver built gurgling beside me, reading. I hear the yips of the neighbor's dog, lift my head to wonder from where the constant hum of a chain-saw comes, notice my irritation and notice it drift away.

If we wish to live well in the world, not just amble along through life without any examination of our being, then we must engage in the effort to find meaning in our lives. In order to do this, we have to find a way to balance our own interiority with an empathic recognition of others. Without this balance, we can become invested in our needs and performance while forgetting that there are others in the animal, vegetable, and mineral world. Or we can become so outwardly directed, perhaps even to the point of interfering, as to fail to see our own shortcomings. We must ask: for whom do we practice? We see the paradox of self in the world, focusing inwardly in order to manifest outwardly. The inward look is the outward view. Ultimately we practice for others as our inward polishing manifests itself as good action in our activities.

-from Following the Way of Ryokan in the Fall 2014 issue of Tricycle Magazine


There is goodness and gratitude everywhere. Yesterday, as I made my way through the day, caring for my children and worrying about Sophie, I thought much, probably too much, about the criticism thrown at me. I tried to give it space, to open myself up not to the words, the venom in the words,  but to my own reaction to the words. That takes away the sting in the same way that breathing through physical pain lessens its impact, if not the pain itself. Does that make sense? Last night, this post, one that I wrote in response to overwhelming generosity afforded me in the midst of that person's horrific pain, appeared on my Facebook feed. I will take this as a sign of grace and am stunned, again, by the wonder of the world and this community.