Growing up in Southern California, there was a strong message from as far back as I can remember to be conscientious. We must always conserve water. I was taught in school to turn off the water when you brush your teeth and take short showers. We had water-saving toilets and could only water our grass on certain days. I was taught not to litter, not to throw trash out the car window because you would get in trouble. We must always recycle. I was taught to be respectful but there was no connection or meaning underneath it. There was no relationship to the earth and its symbiotic relationship with us.
I can’t remember any message coming from the church about the earth, other than it wouldn’t last once we were in heaven. I wasn’t taught about what land I inhabited. In school I learned about Spanish missions and the conversations of Native Americans to be more “civilized/Christian.”
I grew up taking spring breaks and summer vacations camping near the beach. I have memories of taking nature walks with our camping friends and my siblings. I’m guessing we played in the sand and water for hours everyday. I don’t have a ton of specific memories—other than these friends making elaborate sand masterpieces for a competition. But I always want to get to water. I LOVE taking my kids to the beach and even as teens, they still LOVE playing in the sand and water, be it on the coast or the shores of Minnesota lakes.
In college I was drawn to the mountains and went to college in Colorado. I loved snowboarding and going to retreats in the mountains—the fresh pine smell, the cool nights, the bright sun. I LOVE the mountains.
Being outside makes me feel alive. When I spend a whole day inside, I’m disappointed. Even better is when I get to experience sweeping landscapes where I feel small and the world feels vast. I now know that more concrete and less trees is an environmental problem that has racist, health, food, and learning implications. Without any rich connection to the earth by way of historic, cultural, or spiritual paths, I feel I am creating my own way. In the age of teenage phone use like an appendage to their body, I have been desperate to provide opportunities for my kids to be swept away by the what they feel in various nature-scapes in our country and the world. As I read about, watch and follow Indigenous Peoples as they share about their relationship to the earth and the role they play in the story, I am inspired. Though I don’t have this heritage, I want to play a role in recognizing the harm done by my ancestors and myself. I want to invite my kids into a better story with our relationship to the earth, but I feel I have to carve this road.
I can imagine having a more embodied, scared relationship with creation by not living in West St. Paul. I can imagine living closer to nature, where my husband can fly-fish, I can hike, we can enjoy the outdoors more. I can imagine growing food and keeping bees. But I feel thwarted here in this city. Maybe that’s just a lack of imagination for the here and now and the ways I can impact my place.
1 comment
Laura you trace your awakening conscience of ‘all things nature’ from the meager offerings of ‘turn off the faucet’ to “having a more embodied, scared relationship with creation” and it parallels what was/is our cultural growth, yet too many are ignoring it. I too experience the awakening in similar ways, and feel your longing to return to the Earth–simpler, more wholistic ways of living life. Asking the questions now about how that can happen open up the imagination to ‘what’s next’, inviting creativity to blossom. I look forward to hearing about what’s next for you.<3