In a distant rumble of thunder I find enlightenment. Mother Earth is changing but not just with the seasons. Her lands tremble more and more, or so it seems. Her skies become more and more disorganized with un-seasonally strong storms of all kinds, or so it seems. Her average body temperature creeps higher and higher with each passing year, or so it seems. Her waters heat up and bloom life choking algae’s that threaten organisms not only beneath the waters, but above, and on land as well. Some might think she weakens under the staggering onslaught of our ‘industrialized’ advancements.
We can affect changes in the strata in several ways and she responds with earthquakes to re-settle the layers to a more stable arrangement. We pump all manner of exhaust into her air and she responds with chemical rains as she washes her atmosphere the only way she knows how. What she cannot wash away traps solar heat and she responds with exceptionally brutal tornadoes, higher intensity thunderstorms, and nearly-off-the-scale hurricanes. Her waters run too warm and single celled ‘slimes’ become ‘red-tide’. She is not weakening. She is simply responding to our damaging stimuli. Even if we become extinct, which will most probably be by our own hand, she will remain intact. She does not need us around. We need her. Why have so many of us misplaced our respect for her?
Brave and bold are the many who lend their hands in every attempt to save that which the human race has pushed over the precipice. Their struggle is one that finds them reaching over the abyss to grasp whatever has not fallen out of arms reach. With ‘kid-gloves’ they strain with poetic compassion to nurture damaged nature back to health. Theirs are valiant efforts, from the very species whose heavy hands are to blame for the dire situation in the first place.
On the one hand we have voices screaming for progress. They bolster their comfort and bank accounts while ravaging every conceivable resource. On the other, and screaming with equal conviction, multiple factions scream in defense of everything from butterflies to whales. Each hand flies against the other at every opportunity and the resultant ‘applause’ drowns out most of what each side considers ‘moving forward’. Alone, each ‘digit-post’ diligently points out the successes they are proud of. Only one hand in the confrontation holds the precious grains of respect that Mother Nature deserves. The other wields a scythe to lay all things without profit out of it progressive way. When I see the good that humankind can do with its hands, it takes away the bitter taste of what I see the other hand is up to.
We will forever be children and our “Mother” will always love us no matter how much of what is hers we destroy. If she could ever be angry with us, she could just as easily wipe us away in one of the same fashions that we have wiped out so much of her diverse progeny.
(Neat slow-mo light show in Chicago)
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