A Capacity for Care

 

Note: I wrote this earlier this year, but I thought this would be a good time to share these words.

 

Lori

 

These days, the word “capacity” frightens me. As housing and grocery costs rise, it becomes more challenging to have the capacity of time and resources for humans to care for themselves, let alone other beings, or what some folks are now calling the “more than human” beings.  At the other end of the spectrum are people who have their needs met so easily, they take the function nature plays in their quality of life completely forgranted, cushioned in a bubble of privilege and narcissism. They lack the motivation, the empathy, the ethics and the capacity to care for more than human beings.

 

How do you build empathy in an ambivalent, troubled and even hostile environment? You nurture your own capacity for empathy to model it and share it with others. You gather a team of gentle people (Mead’s “small group of concerned citizens”) around you who mirror your passions and work towards change. Those of us who do care, often care so much we carry a burden of crushing responsibility, and push ourselves to the brink of our capacity. We care so deeply, we lie awake worrying about losing it all. We have to be careful to be gentle with ourselves and each other. We need to work together to restore and regenerate the land, and the way we live on it needs to change. Aldo Leopold said “The objective is to teach the students to see the land, to understand what they see, and to enjoy what they understand.”

 

Empathy starts with vision and learning to see the land. That means going to the land and walking on it in all seasons. The land is our teacher and it hold us with its own empathy and tests us with its capacity to sustain or shorten our lives. This week I had the privilege of witnessing my first rattlesnake. I heard it first, just a slight rasp that alerted something deep inside me and made my head turn toward the cryptic grey mass near the path. I backed away slowly, my heart pounding. The fear was an involuntary response, one body acknowledging the dangerous potential of a more than human creature with sharp fangs and toxin in its arsenal. But most of all, I felt a deep respect for this beautiful and ancient creature. I felt a deep appreciation of how different it was from me. The mystery of other, of the more than human qualities of this being intrigued and moved me. The experience took me outside myself, to see the land, the snake, and my heart from a distance.

 

 

 

 

I spend so many days looking downwards for bees, it’s no wonder I see a few snakes. I’ve seen three new to me species in the last two months here in the Okanagan Similkameen: rubber boa, gopher snake and rattler. This weekend a group of us went out after dark to look up. A solar storm created a show of aurora borealis that was a rare treat for folks that live south of their usual displays. We laughed and talked of constellations, satellites, and personal memories of aurora borealis. I don’t have specific memories of northern lights. I guess I’ve seen them so often in my childhood that the experiences became unhooked to specific times and places. It was good to do something social in nature looking up at the night sky shimmering with purple and blue. It was good to be outside with other people at night, just to renew a sense of wonder together, to regenerate that sense of mystery.

 

Whether I’m looking up or down I wonder “How many days do I have left on this earth to care for the humans I love?” How much time is left to continue the mission I have to teach people to have empathy for bees and all that they are connected to in this world? How many bee species will we lose without even being aware they ever existed? I am haunted by these questions around my own limitations and the capacity humanity has for empathy and the ability to change. I wonder, am I getting to be too old to be an idealist? Am I losing my sense of wonder and mystery? Is it becoming eroded by my inevitable slowly diminishing capacity? I don’t know, but I do still care deeply about bees and the gentle souls who care for the more than human beings and the land we are privileged to live on. Let’s go out on the land . . . and continue to build empathy and wonder together.

 

 

Lichen Hues at the Similkameen Artist Residency

 I am thrilled to be one of the current artists in residence at the Similkameen Artist Residency. Stay tuned for photos taken around this beautiful place. I'm starting with some lichen studies. The colours of the lichens and rocks complement the shades of silvery greens and tans of the spring flora. I'd like to try to embroider some lichens onto a "rock dress".

Notice the shape and colour relationship between the lichens and this bigseed biscuitroot.

Chasing Bees Until I Lose the Light

 

 

After a frustrating afternoon dealing with intransigent and insensitive humans, I need to go to the bog to find the bees. It’s been a bitter-sweet day. I need to heal my heart and mind. It’s getting to be late, but the sun will have warmed patches of the blueberry flowers, making the nectar flow, so I hope I will see some bumble bees. A group of us met here a few days ago, but it was raining and bees were scarce, so we talked carnivorous plants, bees and bog bodies. I was thrilled to share my love of Camosun bog with others who will never be the same, now that they have visited it. This is a special place, and the people who meet at the bog have a bee-blessed bond . . . also frog-blessed. This is especially true at this time of the year, when the Pacific tree frogs, aka Pacific chorus frogs, are singing their hearts out to attract mates. Immersing oneself in this sound should be a rite of spring. I vote for attending frog and bumble bee musicals as essential life experiences: bog concerts for a better life.

 

 Today the bog is busy with humans, birds and bees. I hear the “hank, hank” sound of a nuthatch and squint against the sun to see if that hummer on the power line is an Anna’s or a migrating rufous. An older couple guide a toddler along the boardwalk, his curiosity and wonder clearly mirrored on their faces. And there are bees . . Bombus melanopygus, B flavifrons, B sitkensis and B mixtus. I’m surprised I’m seeing smaller bumble bees already. I chase a little sitkensis around and think she’s too small to be a queen. Could it be the first workers are out already? Sure enough, a few moments later, I see another small sitka bumble bee with smudges of pollen packed onto her corbicula and she is moving fast! I try to track her, focus and snap photos, but I’m rusty after a long winter, and I take lots of shots I know will be blurry. For the sake of identification, even some of these less than optimal photos can be useful when I’m posting them on iNaturalist. I’m so pleased a sitkensis queen has established a nest. I wish her a flourishing and abundant life. I’m so happy to be here chasing the bees until I lose the light. I take some photos in the shadows and then I get ready to head back to the house.

 

 

 Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and fret over the decisions I have made in my life. Have I been a good mother? A caring friend? Am I a worthy and responsible human? But spending time chasing bees with my camera until the little lanterns of blueberry blossoms grow dim makes me feel a life-affirming harmony. My worries fade into the background like the ghost of a vernal frog’s chorus in the distance. I have done what I could today. It’s time to sink into a calm state of gratitude and go home to feed my belly and take a close look at my photos. Que sera, sera. Whatever will bee, will bee.

 

 

You're Invited!

 

Please join us for the launch of our BC Native Bee ID trading cards with images created by Cloudscape Comics artists!

 

Saturday, March 23, 2-5 pm

 

Outside in front of the South Memorial Park’s field house at 5955 Ross Street, Vancouver (Ross + 41st, located inside the park).

 

Featuring cards designed by Madeline Berger, Haley Boros, Jordanna George, Olive Pinard, Jess Pollard, and Matthew Nielsen.

 

Drop by and pick up a set of cards, some free native flower seeds and a seasonal guide to plants for bees in the Lower Mainland. Take a close up and personal look at some local bee specimens and learn about the amazing biodiversity of BC Native Bees. We will provide materials for you to join in and draw your own funky bee designs. Some of the artists will be in attendance along with Lori Weidenhammer, aka Madame Beespeaker.

 

Free! All ages are welcome!

This event is brought to you by the Native Bee Society of British Columbia supported by the Vancouver Board of Parks and Recreation Neighbourhood Matching Fund.