For the Beauty of the Earth. N. Thomas Johnson-Medland
connections to these issues that represent their own understanding. It is complicated.
There is very little space given to children to share how they feel about what is going on inside of them about their earth island home. This book is a place in time and space for some to share what is going on inside. These are words from children of the earth.
I have always loved the earth. Since my earliest recollections of childhood, I would have remained ever in the out of doors if given the chance and or the choice. Some of that was to escape the confines of domestic work and enclosure, but more was about a love of all things wild and growing. Even still, I would rather stand in the rain, inhaling the scent of the verdant and moist universe all around me; bringing it inside me, and melding it to my “me,” than do anything else. It beats just about anything.
When I consider that this planet has been changing (ever so slightly each year since I was young), I become troubled. I become troubled and nervous. The nervousness comes from being ignored when I talk about it. It also comes from having two sons that I plan on leaving the earth to when I am dead and gone. I am troubled and nervous because it is the very earth we are all standing on that is changing; and in not such good ways, and rapidly.
People are at a “dis-connect” when it comes to this issue. They spend a lot of time—far more than should be wasted—on sidestepping the issues and dreaming up counter-theory theories on how the theorists are theorizing wrong. People say things like “There can’t be global warming; look at all of the snow.” They do not allow themselves to realize that this snow is exactly the point. The massive and erratic swing in weather conditions is a sign of the shifting and changing climate.
They say, “Global climate change is a myth.” The real myth is the myth the oil companies spun to throw us off the scent and get congressional allies following the red herring down the path. That myth is that there is no human impact behind the changes in the climate. That, I am afraid, is a lie.
I do not want to go into a lot of activist language here. I want to talk about love here. I love the earth. I love the smell of the dirt. I love the tenderness of fresh springtime blossoms. I love the power of the wind. I love the crackling of thunder. I love the processes of growth and diminution that emerge in a cycle that is much larger than my life alone. I love to be dwarfed by the awe of a mountain. I love getting lost in the wild.
I believe that when we begin to look deeply into the love we have for the earth and the wild, then we will begin to see our connection to the earth. Once we begin to nurture the idea that we are connected to the earth, it will not be long before we recognize we are somehow one with the earth—at one with all creation. Love is the entrance way into community and union.
I hope you find here in the words of these poets some pathways into love. Listen for the things that excite them about the earth. Feel the things they are in love with. Share the sorrows they write concerning our sister planet—their present and future lifeline. Hear what they are saying in their images, in their colors, and in their adjectives. Feel the depth of connection the bridges they write reveal. Theirs is a brave new world.
You will find an immense depth in their craftsmanship. You will feel pride well up inside you from what they paint. You will feel shame bring your eyes to the ground. Tears of joy and sadness will be yours from simple and open hearts. Do not hinder the effects of their lyrics. These songs are theirs. They share them freely with you.
To you poets, who have opened the ken of your words, “Do not stop”. Make sure you continue the process by writing more and more. Open the doors of your heart and let emotion, thought, feeling, and impression find their way to the page. Read your words to your friends. Post your words in social venues. You are the prophets for a new world—a world of people that think before they drive, consume, and discard.
The ground on which we stand is too precious to be ignored. When people fail to remember we stand on all that has come before, then they have no regard for what they are leaving for others to stand on. We are those people.
When I clutch a handful of soil, I feel the blood of my ancestors, the howling of all creation, and the subtle stillness of the silent trees. I feel the Creative Father. It is all in there. Remind people how to hold the dirt. Help them feel what it is that is in there. Help them to listen to all it has to teach. Without your honest vulnerability, I am afraid the oil lobbyists will win. This is not their earth; it is yours. Sing your songs, poets. We are all children of this beautiful earth.
Glinda’s Introduction
“We are all filled with a longing for the wild. There are few culturally sanctioned antidotes for this yearning. We are taught to feel shame for this desire . . . No matter where we are, the shadow that trots behind us is defiantly four footed.”
—Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women Who Run With the Wolves
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