Thanksgiving from Down Under

27 Nov Thanksgiving from Down Under

I write this blog from the Hinterlands of Byron Bay, Australia, where I am blessedly basking in a remote AirBnB for a few days between workshops.

I take a deep breath in and I’m filled with gratitude, appreciating the privilege that allows me to be here in this idyllic space, and for the chance to serve the interests of students that make it all possible.

But just over the ridge, where the Australian bush fires burn out of control, the sky is filling with smoke. Like my homeland of California, (until recently), they have not had rain here for 6 months and everything is tinderbox dry.

I can’t believe this peaceful paradise could possibly be threatened, but I realize my denial is no different from the world’s denial that our incredibly complex ecosystem could possibly be facing destruction. “It can’t happen here,” is just another form of NIMBY (not in my backyard).

I look at the book beside me, the one I brought to read on the trip, The Uninhabitable Earth: A Story of the Future by David Wallace-Wells. His pages paint the scenario of complete environmental dystopia, one where every aspect of our biological and social ecosystems are in chaos and collapse. World wars look insignificant to our future reality if we don’t radically and rapidly change our behavior.

According to Wallace-Wells, the place from which I am writing will indeed be gone, whether it is from this fire or the next. So will most everything else we treasure­ like beautiful landscapes, or take for granted like endless water supply.

There is nothing like a threat to make us feel grateful for what we have. When it is long gone, we will look back and see how much we failed to appreciate while we still had it.

As I listen to the sounds and sights around me: the call of birds, the buzzing of insects, the varieties of green trees swaying the wind, I see how nature is a web of exchanges.

Animals and plants exchange oxygen and carbon dioxide. Fungi break leaves and trees down into humus for the soil. Everything is food for everything else, all of it constantly self-organizing, rising up in endless expressions, as it has for billions of years.

Like any exchange, when it is out of balance, it fails.

But back to Thanksgiving. What we appreciate appreciates. That is the point. What we appreciate we get more of, what we fail to appreciate we lose. It is only our appreciation of nature that will preserve it.

Now is the time to shift our appreciation, from the newest technological gadget or cyber advantage to the oldest reality, the incredible symphony of creation that is our sacred ground and collective home, the senior partner in the game of life.

It is time to go out into nature, wherever you can, and spend time with the exquisite fields and folds and flowers while you still can.

Perhaps our communion will make some small bit of difference. Perhaps our appreciation will transfer some small bit of energy from a dying system to a living one. Perhaps it will make us more inspired to rise up and fight for this precious world we’re continually assaulting.

And if not, we will at least have spent time with our beloved while we still could. For every moment of that, I am grateful.

Anodea Judith
11-27-19

+11

0