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.
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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.