In Pursuit Of Answers

Yesterday's post featured the thoughts of my sister-in-law, Ruth, on how to restore humility and a sense of proportion. This morning, she alerted me to the following, a fitting complement to that post.



If you liked the above, this one is even better:

UPDATED: I May Have The Answer

Strange cacophonous sounds coming from the skies may seem like the prelude to a science-fiction film, but the phenomenon is actually happening throughout the world. At times sounding like trumpet blasts, at others like construction equipment, the noises have been heard for about a decade. Have a listen:



While no one has found an explanation for this mystery, allow me to put forth one: could it be Mother Nature expressing her horror at the way we have been heedlessly neglecting, abusing and exploiting the earth for far too long?

UPDATE: Thanks to Marie for providing this link to other possible explanations.

UPDATED: Lament For A Vanishing World

Those who read this blog with any regularity probably know that nature is something near and dear to my heart. I defy people to watch well-made nature documentaries, walk among the creatures we share the world with, or even visit a well-run zoo (I highly recommend the one in San Diego!) and not be struck and moved, as I have been. by the energy and intelligence that pervades our world.

Sadly, much of that energy and intelligence is being lost, as reports show that we are facing drastic reductions in our wildlife populations. The most startling statistic suggests that by 2020, just more than three years from now, the numbers that existed in 1970 will be reduced by two-thirds!

For more hard truth about what looks like a pending mass extinction, check out a post by The Mound of Sound, who writes regularly about matters that affect all of us.

As well, take a look at these two brief video reports to better understand the peril we are responsible for:



The picture for marine life is hardly encouraging either.



These reports are difficult to watch, as they should be. We should all feel not only disheartened but ashamed as we view them, given that our actions as a species have led to this; we need to also urgently understand it is only by responsible and mindful action that we can reverse an increasingly ugly truth.

But do we care? Are we willing to confront our self-indulgence and egoism, modify our wasteful ways, and begin to respect the other creatures we share this world with?

Those are more than rhetorical questions, my friends.

UPDATE: The Star's editorial today suggests measures our government can take to slow this precipitous decline in our animal population, and Thomas Walkom talks about threats to our iconic moose.

The World We Ignore

I suppose it is the curse of consciousness that leads humans to see themselves as distinct from, and superior to, nature. It is a hubris that the natural world is paying a heavy price for, as we insist on placing our wants and needs above those of other forms of life. New research is showing how misplaced and misguided our sense of ourselves really is.

Those who read this blog regularly may know that I have written fairly often on nature and nature documentaries, the latter surely the easiest way for us, if we take the time from our busy lives, to reconnect with the wonders of the world around us. Moreover, if viewed seriously, such films can make us ask some hard questions of the lives we lead and the impact our acquisitiveness and self-centeredness have on the other creatures we share this planet with.

Last night I was reminded of these things as I watched the latest Nature of Things, entitled Conversations With Dolphins. Highly intelligent and self-aware, these creatures seem to possess amazing capabilities that, until recently, were believed to be the exclusive domain of human beings. Tool use, a teaching culture, precise communications and deductive reasoning are but four of the wondrous things these mammals are capable of.

What follows is a brief clip from the documentary, but I hope you take the opportunity to view the entire program. It may change your perspective on many, many things.

This Bonobo Should Humble All Of Us

Yesterday's post dealt with our troubling capacity for human supremacism, a capacity that is destroying our world. This seems a fitting followup:



You can read about this bonobo here.

Are You A Supremacist?

Where I live, the summer has been, with just the occasional respite, unbearably hot. It has certainly interfered with one of my seasonal pleasures, sitting on the deck and reading the newspaper while watching various species of birds visit both my feeders and my bird bath. In those quiet moments, the wall that we humans far too frequently erect to separate us from nature seems to barely exist. The air, the sunlight, the perennials at the side and back of the yard are but a few of the things that I, the birds, squirrels, chipmunks and rabbits, butterflies and bees share. The illusion of Eden, however ephemeral, percolates into consciousness. All, for a few moments, is tranquil and holy.

But of course, the above is a very idealized version of reality; nature, in its more intrusive forms, elicits an entirely different response. For example, several years ago we awoke to find a bat in our bedroom. Let's just say that its presence was a source of deep consternation culminating in its capture and ultimately, its death, as it had to be tested for rabies.

While few would blame me for the actions I took, the incident does underscore another truth. We enjoy nature, we want to recognize ourselves as simply part of a vast and powerful reality, but we want it only on our terms. In a recent column, Rick Salutin reminded us of that truth:

When I got home from the cottage Monday, there were signs of struggle in the kitchen, like scratched, torn packaging on rice cakes. Mice? But why didn’t the cat disperse them as he always does? Rats? Later I heard scuffling and went back in: a squirrel!

It’s shocking how menacing they look in there, versus through the backyard window. Panicked and dangerous — the squirrel that is, but me too.

There’s such a sharp separation involved: them out there, us inside. Panic looms if it breaks down.

Salutin goes on to talk about other aspects of nature that we are increasingly contending with: the forest fires, the coastal flooding, etc., all a response to the separation that we have allowed to evolve and culminate in the early stages of climate change. That reality, he says, stands in sharp contrast to the romanticized nature that urbanites maunder on about (‘I love Nature.’). (See opening paragraph.)

And, in the way that only Rick Salutin can, he offers us this insight:

There’s a reason why indigenous peoples everywhere have led on dealing intelligently with climate change: not because they’re wiser or nobler but because they haven’t experienced a rupture with the non-human world to the same degree as most of us. They remain aware of the ways we’re part of the natural realm, and how dangerous and menacing it can be if, like any relationship, that one is left unattended or gets misshapen by a power imbalance. If you live oblivious to something you’re intimately part of, the odds don’t favour you, ultimately.

He might just as well have added that, with the power we wield, it doesn't favour nature either.

Indeed, Derrick Jensen, in a piece well-worth reading, has a name for what we do to the planet: human supremacism.

Here is human supremacism. Right now in Africa, humans are placing cyanide wastes from gold mines on salt licks and in ponds. This cyanide poisons all who come there, from elephants to lions to hyenas to the vultures who eat the dead. The humans do this in part to dump the mine wastes, but mainly so they can sell the ivory from the murdered elephants.

Right now a human is wrapping endangered ploughshares tortoises in cellophane and cramming them into roller bags to try to smuggle them out of Madagascar and into Asia for the pet trade. There are fewer than 400 of these tortoises left in the wild.

Right now in China, humans keep bears in tiny cages, iron vests around the bears’ abdomens to facilitate the extraction of bile from the bears’ gall bladders. The bears are painfully “milked” daily. The vests also serve to keep the bears from killing themselves by punching themselves in the chest.

And those are only a few dramatic examples of our ruptured relationship with the larger world. Every time we use our cars when we could have walked, every vehicle we buy that is bigger and more powerful than we need, every minute we spend idling our cars so we can stay cool or warm, every drop of water we waste when we let the tap run while brushing our teeth, all and so many more of our heedless daily decisions and actions reveal us for the human supremacists we are.

Our arrogance, our assumption of a natural superiority over nature, our insistence that we are separate from nature, continues apace. It is destroying our world and, of course, us along with it. All because of a perceived right to do what we will with the world around us.

A benighted and shameful view, but one that, despite all the indicators, sadly shows absolutely no signs of abatement.

The Price We Pay

*

WARNING: This is one of those blog posts that is more philosophical than it is political. However, in another sense, it pertains to a worldview that, if more people were open to it, could perhaps help change how we relate to each other and our planet. If that cryptic introduction has hooked you, please read on.

I came across a fascinating article recently in the New York Times about a German forest ranger, Peter Wohlleben, who asserts something quite remarkable: trees have social networks.

The author of The Hidden Life of Trees: What They Feel, How They Communicate — Discoveries From a Secret World, has made an impression:

[T]he matter-of-fact Mr. Wohlleben has delighted readers and talk-show audiences alike with the news — long known to biologists — that trees in the forest are social beings. They can count, learn and remember; nurse sick neighbors; warn each other of danger by sending electrical signals across a fungal network known as the “Wood Wide Web”; and, for reasons unknown, keep the ancient stumps of long-felled companions alive for centuries by feeding them a sugar solution through their roots.

Why is this so important? For me, it reflects my belief that there is something in existence, which I like to refer to as "the transcendent," that animates and links all living things. This is hardly an insight original to me, but it is one I am convinced if we really took seriously would force us to treat the world around us, and all of its members, with greater respect and consideration. Unfortunately, however, today so much emphasis is placed upon the fulfillment of the individual that the collective experience is given short shrift.

The German forester

found that, in nature, trees operate less like individuals and more as communal beings. Working together in networks and sharing resources, they increase their resistance.

A perfect metaphor for what is so frequently lacking in today's world, isn't it?

And what is one to make of the latest discoveries that shed some light on the heretofore secret world of animals?

While we pride ourselves on our uniqueness, a number of recent studies reveal that our animal friends are more like us—or at least more attuned to our ways—than might be expected. Here are some of the most fascinating finds.

The list includes birds purposely starting fires to flush out their prey, wolves engaging in complex vocalizations, and birds demonstrating Theory of Mind, i.e., the ability to attribute mental states, including vision, to others. In other words, as an example, if they think they are being watched by other birds they will take measures to hide their food and not visit it too often. Self-awareness, anyone?

For conventional, conservative Christianity, such evidence is contrary to their beliefs that God created humanity and invested that humanity with uniqueness. I certainly do not believe that, but I do believe that we live in a world of potential which, for me, ultimately has a transcendent source.

Even without necessarily sharing my spiritual beliefs, people cannot, if truly examining the world around them, escape the remarkable resilience, mystery and vitality of nature and its mechanisms. While our sense of wonder may today be blunted through the isolation that our digital connectedness ironically makes possible, it doesn't in any way negate the truth to be found in the natural world. Indeed, perhaps we need a new mythology or metaphor to conceptualize that truth.

Our contemporary condition of disconnectedness seems to be the price we pay for choosing the temporal over the mysterious eternal. It is choosing this sentiment while ignoring this one. Our world is thus a poorer place.

* Just as the hand, held before the eye, can hide the tallest mountain, so the routine of everyday life can keep us from seeing the vast radiance and the secret wonders that fill the world.

— Chasidic saying, eighteenth century

Why Do They Do It?

For the sheer joy of it, I suspect:



To know and respect nature is to know and respect ourselves. All is connected.

Are You A Birdbrain?

Watch this video to the end, and you will realize the question is not intended as an insult:

Putting A Face On Minimum-Wage Poverty

Last evening I watched a fascinating documentary on PBS' Nature* about the black crested macaque, a monkey that is endemic to rainforests in Indonesia, which includes the island of Sulawesi. The monkeys are a badly endangered species whose numbers have dropped 90% over the last 25 years thanks to hunters who sell them as bush meat in local markets, this despite the fact that such hunting and sales are illegal. The film showed the almost human side of the monkeys, with their elaborate social interactions and hierarchies.

Wildlife cameraman and biologist Colin Stafford-Johnson, who first recorded them 25 years ago, had a purpose beyond merely acquainting viewers with these riveting creatures. Working with area groups and biologists, the plan was to show local populations the film in the hope that they would see the monkeys as fully-alive beings not so different from themselves, thereby engendering an empathy that might deter them from eating them. Early results suggest some success with this strategy.

Being able to relate to issues, problems and plights on a human and humane level, being able to see beyond arid statistics, is, in my view, essential if, as a society and species, we are ever to confront and solve some of our most pressing issues. It was in this spirit that I appreciated a recent piece by The Star's Joe Fiorito entitled Life on minimum wage is not a decent living.

Certainly we know the statistics: one in eight foodbank users in Canada are the working poor; 500,000 Ontarians, one out of nine, work at minimum wage jobs. But what is the human face of such poverty?

Looking through the eyes and experience of Doreen, a personal care worker, Fiorito offers that human face:

She is single. She is in her fifties. She has a bum knee and a bad back. She also has some trouble with her vision; a brain tumour, benign, she isn’t worried.

She lives in a rent-geared-to-income apartment in midtown Toronto. While we talked, she was waiting for her church to deliver a grocery voucher so she could afford to buy some groceries. Why?

Because Doreen can’t always afford to feed herself on the money she makes for the hours she gets.

But wait, there's more!

Dorren is an on-call worker, and if she is lucky, she will work nine-hour days, four days per week, thereby clearing a mere $1,240 per month.

Her rent is subsidized; she pays $592 a month, which leaves her with $648. A Metropass costs her $133. Her phone costs close to $20. She buys phone cards to talk to her mother, who lives in another country. Her cable and Internet cost $68 a month.

She also owes $900 on her credit card; yes, she sometimes uses her credit card for food.

She also takes certain medications which are not covered by the provincial health plan. “I had a knee replacement. My back is out. I still have to work. Sometimes I go without pain medication because I can’t afford it.” I repeat: She sometimes goes without her pain medication because she can’t always afford it.

Not a very pretty picture, is it? And not one that will in any measurable way be improved by Ontario Premier Kathleen Wynne's decision to raise the minimum wage by 75 cents on June 1. The grinding face of working poverty continues to confront us and, thanks to a lack of political will, confound us.



* If you want to view the PBS show on the macaques, you will need a VPN such as Hola, free software that will mask your I.P. address so that it looks like you are an American viewer. (The PBS show is not licensed for viewing in Canada.)

Lessons Learned, Lessons Forgotten

H/t Catherin Bradbury

'God save thee, ancient Mariner!
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!—
Why look'st thou so?'—With my cross-bow
I shot the ALBATROSS.

-excerpted from The Rime of The Ancient Mariner, by Samuel Coleridge

In what may seem like a very long time ago but is, by historical standards, really but a blink of the eye, our forebears had a quite healthy respect for nature. They knew of its power and its fury, its capacity both to give and to take, and the rhythms of the seasons imposed their own kind of discipline on people. Whether setting off on a sea voyage or planting crops, there was an innate understanding of humanity's place in the scheme of things. We were not the masters and mistresses of our own fates. Although we were bold and took many chances, propelled by our curiosity about the world around us, we still recognized our limitations.

Sadly, that wisdom has been forgotten.

When I was in the classroom, one of the works I delighted in teaching was Coleridge's The Rime of The Ancient Mariner. For me, the poem has always stood as a parable of humanity's willfulness; very briefly, it is the story of the humbling and horrible lesson a mariner must learn. The hubris informed by his own ego tells him that he is the pinnacle of creation and thus entitled to do as he pleases, with disastrous results.

In the early part of the poem, the Albatross is associated with good fortune, leading the sailors out of a dire predicament. After the crisis has passed, however, for reasons never directly explained, the Mariner, who is essentially the captain of the vessel, kills the albatross, an act that ultimately results in the death of his entire crew and the complete isolation, both physical and spiritual, of the Mariner. As I used to suggest to my students, he likely killed the Albatross simply because he could; in other words, it is one of those many heedless acts that seem to reflect so much of our human nature.

By the poem's end, the Mariner has learned his lesson, but at a horrible price. Unfortunately, in our time we seem, as a species, incapable of gaining such insights, the evidence of our willfulness so plentiful I will not insult you by pointing it out.

Every so often, even in our cossetted 'first-world' experience, we are reminded of our folly. In Southern Ontario, where I reside, yesterday's ice storm left parts of my community, including our house, without power for six hours, a minuscule inconvenience compared to the over 250,000 still without power in the Toronto area as I write this; some may even remain in the dark until at least Christmas Day.

Yet the storm, emblematic of a much more profound disturbance in the environment, will, as other countless disasters in recent years, go largely unremarked by the population at large and, of course, by those we entrust to lead us. Climate change amelioration? Carbon pricing? Valuing capital? Forget it. Adaptation? Maybe. But more likely our 'masters' will continue to say and do things that people want to hear: everything is fine, the economy is rebounding, and global warming is but a contentious 'theory'.

The Ancient Mariner learned a hard lesson that drastically altered the course of his life. It seems to be our fate as a short-sighted species never to learn ours.

A Reminder Of Our Place

As our Cuban friends' visit continues, we are trying to give them a sampling of life in Canada. Yesterday we went to the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto; the first exhibition hall we entered there was the one devoted to Canada's aboriginal peoples, where we came upon a work by Norval Morriseau entitled Migration, depicted above.

As the human race continues its ruthless and relentless exploitation of earth's resources to the point of exhaustion, as our heedless behaviour warms the earth to the point of profound and probably irreversible, disastrous change, Migration offers us a succinct reminder of how everyone and everything is interconnected and interdependent.

It is a simple and profound truth, the implications of which far too many choose to be willfully ignorant.

As We go Into The Weekend ...

With thanks to Karen, I am reposting a poem that she left in the comment section of an earlier post. Karen writes,

On Facebook I follow the goings on of a bear sanctuary in Ontario, and this morning they posted the following with a peaceful photo of two bears sitting together:

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry

What Purpose Do We Serve?

Although I have written on this topic before, I think it merits a return visit, given the environmental disasters currently engulfing the world.

Were it within my power, I would legislate that all people in both elementary and high school, and in the world's corporate boardrooms, be required to watch nature documentaries on a regular basis. That way, they would quickly become disabused of the notion that we are somehow outside of or above nature, rather than simply a part of it.

Last night I watched one entitled, Big Sur: Wild California, featuring stunning images of the flora and fauna that area of the West Coast is famous for. And I was once more reminded, as I always am when watching such documentaries, of the interconnectedness of nature, and the delicate balance that exists when left unmolested.

For example, sharks are vital to our survival because of the role they play in protecting the oxygen-producing capacities of the oceans, and while last night's film did not deal with such dramatic realities, there was a very vivid if implicit reminder of how dangerous human activity can be to the earth's ecosystems. The sea otter, once almost wiped out thanks to trade in their furs, are quite fond of sea urchins. Sea urchins have a rather voracious capacity for kelp, underwater forests of which grow in the Pacific off of Big Sur. Were it not for the otters' presence, the urchins would have full reign, and the kelp would be no more. Just one small example of a truth that permeates the natural world.

This morning at breakfast, I was telling my wife about some of the nature arcana I gleaned from the video, stressing the delicate balance I have just referred to. I said that everything has a role to play, after which she asked rhetorically, "Then what role do humans play in this scheme of things?"

Sadly, the answer is all too clear. With our 'superior intelligence,' the destruction we have wrought in nature we are being reminded of on an almost daily basis.

And, as the meteorologists are fond of saying, "There is no relief in sight."

It is Sunday, and the sermon is now ended.

The World We Are Willfully Destroying

Last year, I wrote a post on the power of the documentary. In it, I discussed how a good nature documentary can very powerfully help us to see both the wonders of the world and how we are destroying that world.

Last night I watched the show Nature on PBS. The particular episode, called Ocean Giants: Deep Thinkers, focused on the extraordinary inner lives of dolphins and whales, positing that both not only display both curiosity and high intelligence, but also the kind of self-awareness that we have traditionally assigned only to ourselves. In addition, it is clear that they have a complex language through which they communicate.

The implications of this are staggering, and once more reinforce the magnitude of the crimes that we are committing against nature, propelled by a short-shortsightedness and greed that will probably condemn us as a species. I firmly believe that only by immersing ourselves in the amazing world around us do we have any hope of salvation.

I would urge you to watch this video to understand that despite our bedazzlement by our technological achievements, they really are shallow and insignificant in the larger scheme of things; we really have no reason to feel the hubris we do that gives us an absurd sense of entitlement and the right to do as we please as we exploit and despoil earth's resources. Ironically, however, that technology is crucial in watching this show online, not only because of its use of the Internet, but also due to the fact that copyright restrictions do not permit access to Canadians. The only way to obviate that restriction is to employ i.p. masking software, such as the free Hotspot Shield.