Cut Down ... Multiplying

Felled maples of the Holleran Family Farm, New Milford, PA

The mild El Nino-influenced winter brought on the maple syrup season early this year. About the time I was starting to see tap lines strung through woods, news of what was happening near New Milford, PA reached me. For the Holleran family whose sugar bush had been in annual use since the 1950s, it was a race with the chain saw crews at work along the proposed route of the Constitution Pipeline. If it ever clears legal obstacles in New York, it would pass within two miles of me here in Lightspring Glen, carrying gas from Pennsylvania's fracking pads through five counties of Upstate New York to a terminus near Albany. While New York frack-tavists succeeded in bringing about a fracking ban in December, 2014, the build-out of fracking infrastructure, primarily pipelines, is still a very serious threat...and a threat not just for New Yorkers. This insidious octopus of pipelines is reaching out its tentacles all over the Northeast.

A bit of background:  In order for the Constitution Pipeline to be built, it needs the NY Department of Environmental Conservation to issue water quality permits. As can be imagined, there's been a heated campaign to oppose this and to date these permits have been stalled. With this go-ahead far from guaranteed, Constitution went ahead anyway (essentially illegally) and began clearing trees in Pennsylvania, much of the land of its 25-mile route there taken by eminent domain. To give the devil its due...minimal though this may be...they were doing so in compliance with the regulation of felling trees before March 31st so as to not impact Spring bird migration. A few landowners had opposed the seizure of their land including the Hollerans whose livelihood was threatened.

[An article that covers all of this in excellent detail is here:
https://stateimpact.npr.org/pennsylvania/2016/03/11/williams-delays-construction-of-constitution-pipeline/?_ga=1.133806406.957926641.1426682455 ]

The story of the Hollerans' plight and that of their endangered maples began to spread and dozens of people came to hold daily vigils through most of February. I so wanted to go but was recovering from a fractured tailbone, and so could only send supportive thoughts and prayers and keep up with news via social media. One night I left a note for Megan Holleran, the family's eloquent spokeswoman, thanking her for her valiant actions on behalf of her trees and told her she was an Earth Warrior. The story garnered national and international attention. Ultimately all legal appeals were exhausted and the chain saw crews were given the green light. The wholesale carnage of the family's maple trees took place on March 2nd and 4th. Megan requested that only a few chosen people come to hold witness with her. Hundreds if not more of us held our own distant witness on that mild late-winter day. I took my drum and went out among the hemlocks and hardwoods of my own small woods giving voice to our shared sadness and grief. 

The destruction was horrible enough as the five acres of maples, 90% of the sugar bush, were brought down. But as Megan posted that evening, as much as she had steeled herself for it, it was nearly impossible to bear the sight and sound of the chain saws and the maples crashing to the ground one after the other. Adding to this excruciating grimness was the presence of three armed security men toting rifles, fingers on the triggers. Given the several weeks of peaceful protest and the Hollerans' always-civil and cordial interactions with authorities and Pipeline personnel, this militant presence was both an outrage and insult. I sat looking at all these images coming through Facebook deeply shocked and almost sickened. In all my years of environmental advocacy, I had never seen anything close to this.

How I wish this was the only story to tell here.
In the early hours of March 3rd far to the south in Honduras, the internationally applauded environmental and human rights advocate, Berta Carceres, was assassinated in her home. Just last year she received the prestigious Goldman Environmental Prize for her thirty-plus years work on behalf of the native Lenca communities fighting for their territorial rights and combating environmental assaults to their land including illegal logging. One of the reports described her death as her having been "cut down".  http://www.ibtimes.com/slain-honduran-activist-berta-caceres-family-heads-washington-call-independent-2339884

While we here were still reeling from the news out of northern Pennsylvania, on March 7th, the day before International Women's Day, Berta Carceres' funeral was held in La Esperanza east of the Honduran capital. A Facebook post showing her family bearing her coffin on their shoulders included this caption:
The Honduran people in the thousands celebrated her life and protested her death. They shouted: "Berta Carceres Vive- la Lucha Sigue sigue, Berta is alive, the struggle continúes. Berta Carceres no morrió, se multiplicó. Berta is not dead - she multiplied."

Berta Carceres is an Earth Warrior who is no longer among us. To be an Earth Warrior requires fortitude, persistence, bravery...and hope. Megan Holleran exhibited all of these and more during the weeks of struggle to save her trees. The end result perhaps was inevitable, but the story of this valiant effort by her, her family, and hundreds more of us, continues to ripple out. 

Let us not lose heart. Let us multiply.

Onward....

Berta Carceres, Earth Warrior

 

First-Responders for Gaia

I'm re-blogging this post having found it compelling reading.
This may be something that happens more often here
on Notes of an Earth Pilgrim.

Suzanne Lie: The Children of Mother Earth – We Came for Gaia.

August 31, 2015 By Andrew Eardley

Things are really “hot”. All you can do now is hang on and wait. Of course, it
is an active wait, as we are in constant contact with the higher
frequencies of Light that seem to accelerate more and more each day.

Then suddenly, it appears that that the connection stops – then it is
on – then it is off. This experience is similar to a short circuit, or a
lamp that is not totally plugged into the wall.

Yes, that is it. We have not yet totally plugged our consciousness
into the Multidimensional power source for our Earth vessel. This “power
source” is our Multidimensional Consciousness, our higher dimensional
SELF, and the core of our planetary Mother, Gaia.

As we “plugin” to our Multidimensional power, we discover that we can see  
through the illusions of 3D. In fact, that which was so important to our
physical body reality is being transmuted into that which is
increasingly important in our Light Body reality.

Fracktavism 201 : After the Celebration

Some of the 1,000+ Fracktavists celebrating on Jan. 21st in Albany

Six weeks ago I was one of those stunned to tears by the incredible news that Gov. Cuomo had okayed a ban on hydrofracking here in New York State. Time and again when I talk with other Fracktavists about when and where they heard the news, they tell me that they also wept. In the photo above, look for the woman in the purple jacket....that's Sandra Steingraber. She's kneeling beside a gentleman whose name I don't know but who is from Dimock, PA.....I've seen him often at these gatherings as he's supported us in New York all these years. If Dimock doesn't ring a bell for you, please google it.

Sandra lives not far from me outside of Ithaca. She is an ecologist, environmentalist, and a firebrand in our movement...to many the Rachel Carson of our times. At the celebration rally last week, she spoke movingly of how we did this. Her speech is linked below and I hope you'll read it. It's not my purpose to attempt to sum up her words, but just this morning I came across this op-ed piece in the Binghamton Press-Sun that she co-wrote with Cornell Professor-Emeritus, Tony Ingraffea: http://www.pressconnects.com/story/opinion/readers/2015/01/22/science-courage-behind-high-volume-fracking-ban/22193583/

The last paragraph offers an eloquent summary of the road to this victory:  "New York now serves as a shining example for the rest of the country to follow. Independent scientists and health experts showed the importance of sharing our expertise with the public at large and urging that policy follow the science and put public health first. Citizens organized and built an unprecedented grassroots movement, a model for effectively making their voices heard and standing up to the oil and gas industry. And most importantly, [Gov.] Cuomo set a soaring standard by considering the health impacts and listening to the science, and having the courage to follow the science and do the right thing."

It was important to come together and celebrate, and yes, convince each other that these six years and more of often exhausting effort had resulted in Gov. Cuomo's decision. After my first stunned and joyful reaction, what I strongly feel is that this action...the banning of fracking in New York State...has shifted the paradigm, and will free us much sooner from the mindless, slavish devotion to fossil fuels to embracing the full promise of renewable energy.

Just as the work to ban fracking took all this effort (and undying hope), so much remains to be done, and it will be a hard road. Over and over again at the rally the pledge made was to get to work to help our neighbors in Pennsylvania free themselves and their beautiful land from this terrible scourge that has wreaked so much damage. I've been to Dimock, and I know. Here in New York, there is the threat to this immediate area and beautiful Lightspring Glen, of the proposed construction of the Constitution Pipeline, part of the dangerous infrastructure that would support the gas and oil industry in Pennsylvania. 

Standing with all my Fracktavist brothers and sisters in Albany last week, we knew it was a short rest, but oh what a fine and joyful one. The spark of our hope that has now burst into flame is the firebrand that lights the way and will be passed along and passed along.

FORWARD!!!

Sandra's speech on Jan 21st:
http://ecowatch.com/2015/01/22/banned-fracking-new-york/?utm_source=EcoWatch+List&utm_campaign=35864e5e33-Top_News_1_23_2015&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_49c7d43dc9-35864e5e33-85894413

In the Flow : Up & Downstream

View from Dragonfly Cottage

Today is the first full day of Spring, extra-marvelous for me as it's my first here at Lightspring Glen. Tomorrow, March 22nd, is the 21st World Water Day, sponsored by the United Nations. Unless you live under a rock (as the expression wryly goes), you know the several crises afflicting the waters of the Earth. Do visit the UN's excellent website to find out not only what's going on this year, but for a comprehensive look at the entire disconcerting issue and learn ways we can all make a difference.

My personal story takes me back to the five previous Springs I welcomed the Vernal Equinox from Dragonfly Cottage perched so wonderfully above the Susquehanna River. Opening the curtains each morning was to be greeted by the day's rising over the wide river flowing directly toward me, almost as if it flowed into the hill, though in truth it took a gentle bend around us in its steady flow down to the Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic.

As readers of this blog know, last Fall I made my way upstream an hour's highway travel (perhaps a 2-day strenuous paddle by canoe?!) and further up along Carr Brook, then up Willow Brook, and finally a half-mile or so up a lovely unnamed stream to the ponds, waterfall, and springs here on the seven acres of my forever-home, Lightspring Glen. Up here on this hill we are on the very edge of the Chesapeake Bay's watershed. Just a short walk to the top of the rise and the waters flow off ocean-ward through the Delaware River. As the crystalline waters rise from their springs (not yet certain how many, but at least four) they create three lively brooks clattering downhill over tree roots and stones. Two flow into Upper Pond, its gentle out-flow joining the third brook and all filling Hemlock Pond that's right behind the house. I've joked that even if I'd had to live in a tent, I would have moved here in a heartbeat.

Though I arrived just before Winter Solstice and the rugged months that quickly followed, there were enough mild days for me to explore and experience these enchanted waters weaving their way across the landscape into Hemlock Pond, then merrily splashing over the waterfall and down through the Glen on the long journey to the sea. But this apparently healthy ecosystem has been under siege...there's a super-fund site literally just over the hill. I must admit it gave me pause when I first learned of it, but when research showed that the clean-up was successfully completed over eight years ago and that careful monitoring continues, making this my home was an easy decision. I'll share the details of this environmental degradation in an upcoming blog, "A Tale of Two Streams".

Tomorrow it's my intention to go out to the pond and the waterfall to offer my thanks and prayers to these waters and send blessings on its downstream flow knowing they will be multiplied by the heart-wishes of many others all along the River's course to the mighty Atlantic. I'll be guided by a wonderful ceremony shared on-line this week by the International Council of the 13 Indigenous Grandmothers. [link here] If you are reading this after March 22nd, it will be no less effective or diminished by the passage of time. It is my hope that when you come to this post you'll be encouraged to offer Love and Thanks to Earth's waters at your own special water-place.
~Namaste'

Hemlock Pond 

Earth Healers & Heroes: Jill Robinson and Animals Asia

Andrew, first rescued bear

Twenty years ago, Jill Robinson, a young British woman working for the International Fund for Animal Welfare, made an unplanned visit to a bear bile farm in southern China. Without permission she ventured down into the basement where the bears were being kept captive. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, a horror scene emerged...cage after cage crammed with pitiful bears unable to stand or turn around. Some were swaying their heads, some were vocalizing – pop, pop, pop – indicating severe stress. When one of the bears reached out through the cage bars, Jill instinctively reached out too, taking the huge paw in her hands. At that moment she knew she had a choice, and she chose to act. Jill vowed to do all she could to end the horrific bear bile industry.

Bear bile has long been used in traditional Chinese and Asian medicine. It is extracted from captive bears using various painful, invasive techniques, all of which cause massive infection in the bears. The majority of these animals are the beautiful Asiatic black bear affectionately called Moon Bears because of the pale lemon-yellow crescent on their chests. Most farmed bears are kept in tiny cages. Sometimes the cages are so small that the bears are unable to turn around or stand on all fours. Some bears are put into cages as cubs and never released. And they may be kept caged like this for up to 30 years. Most farmed bears are starved, dehydrated and suffer from multiple diseases and malignant tumors that ultimately kill them.   

From that April day in 1993 Jill embarked on the mission of ending this cruel industry. What she has accomplished in twenty years is nothing short of spectacular. In 1995, through her work with the IFAW, China's first bear rescue center was opened and received the first nine bears from a bear farm in Huizhou, southern China. The farm was subsequently closed down. IFAW continues to operate this center.

It was with Jill's founding of Animals Asia in 1998 that her herculean efforts slowly began to make inroads into the system. Within a year they'd persuaded Chinese authorities to investigate 11 bear farms in Sichuan Province. In 2000 a landmark agreement was signed with the Chinese government to build a bear sanctuary and construction began on the China Bear Rescue Center in Chengdu. Before year's end, the first 60 bears arrived to begin their new lives including the handsome Moon Bear, Andrew, whose picture graces this post. By 2007 a second center opened in Northern Vietnam at Tam Dao. In April of this year the 400th bear came into Animals Asia's care, compassionately surrendered by the farmer who'd held her for eight years. While she was no longer milked for her bile and was loved as their pet, the family wanted her to have a better more natural life.

Tam Dao's director, Tuan Bendixsen, said of this, “The rescue of this bear is a reflection of changing attitudes not just to the farming of bears for their bile but of animal welfare in general. The farmer has put the welfare of the animal above personal gain - the bear had gone from being a source of income to a pet and part of the family."

Animal Asia's work goes beyond rescuing and rehabilitating the bears. A major goal is to reduce the demand for bear bile through inspired campaigns of public education and raising awareness about the bears' plight. This extends far beyond Asia and is gaining more and more international recognition. It touched my life in 2009 when I became involved with the Moon Bears Project, and came to know one small female bear named Clara, rescued with eighteen other Moon Bears outside of Saigon. She will be the subject of a follow-up post.

There is also unceasing work to change government policies in China and Vietnam to positively affect the regulation of captive bear farming and to bring about its eventual end. It has been made illegal in more and more provinces in China and in 2002 was outlawed in all of Vietnam. But with profits still to be made, loopholes have been found by those who seek to exploit the bears. And limited governmental resources to enforce regulations mean too many bears are still suffering in those terrible cages.

So much has been accomplished...so much remains to be done.
The Animals Asia website is a trove of information which is both painful to view but is also incredibly joyful and up-lifting. Jill writes a wonderful blog that I particularly recommend. A lively Facebook page is also serving to spread the word about this wonderful organization and the continuing efforts of a passionate and dedicated Earth Healer, Jill Robinson. 

....to be continued....

Moonlight

Imagine The Shift: "Going to Water" - On the 20th Anniversary of World Water Day

Friday, March 22, 2013

[Thank you to friend and sister Earth-lover, Dawn Kirk,
for permission to share her blog here at Earth Pilgrim.
You'll find a link to her blog at the end.]

(Going to the Water in Cherokee)

A recent summer while in the Smoky Mountains and Cherokee, NC, I learned of the Cherokee ritual of "going to water." 

Early each morning the Cherokee would wade out waist deep into the river where they would throw water over their head and ask that any thoughts or feelings that hindered them from being closer to God be taken away.  (Note: Their God was not a caucasian, white-haired elder fellow casting people into hell from his heavenly throne. Nor was "He" to my knowledge used legislatively to administer or sway political POV's and policies.)  They would also ask that thoughts or feelings hindering them from being closer to all their brothers and sisters on earth, and the animals of earth be also taken. (from Living Stories of the Cherokee by Freeman Owle.)

What does your 'going to water' involve?

Mine revolves around showering, flushing, brushing (my teeeth), perking and washing but not cleansing or forgiving in the Cherokee way.  Are your associations similar?  These aspects of going to the water have more to do with one's exterior than interior, don't they?

There are times when instead of going to the water the water comes to us as happened to Nashville and many TN communities during the flood of 2010.  This was followed by the tsunami in Japan, flooding in New England, along the Mississippi then Russia where 100 were killed in a flood and more recently in the Northeast with  Hurricane Sandy. 

Then there are times when the water doesn't come at all as has been evidenced more recently through drought resulting in loss of crops and livestock.  Even wildlife suffers in ways I was not aware.  Last summer while taking a baby raccoon to Walden's Puddle, the local wildlife rehab sanctuary, a woman arrived with a frail fawn in her arms.  She had found this lifeless animal immobile in the middle of the road.  The technician said this was an increasing problem with the drought. She quickly determined it was dehydrated and took it away to administer an IV. 

Ironically there is a relational beauty resulting from flooding and drought that allows for a cleansing of sorts.  People typically separated by differences reach out to help one another.  Those who value animals are keenly tuned in to the needs of wildlife and pets in flood and drought conditions.  These events in nature prompt a sudden removal of the things that hinder us from being closer to our human brothers and sisters. 

My other association with " going to the water" entails a spring in the country where I've previously filled containers for drinking water.  The last time I was there I found the owner of the property just above the spring had cut most of the trees above where the road plateaus to land that looks out for miles. 

My distress was so great I avoided going to the personal waters of my heart that were stirred by the scene of dozens of trees whose lives are now evidenced by stumps. 

I spring water to mix with sacred water from England's Glastonbury Well, a gift from my sister-friend Carol in NY.  With the drought at the time, I was uncertain the spring would be flowing.  To my relief, a steady stream poured from the pipe.  To my dismay not only were the trees cut, but a bag of trash had been tossed down the incline by the small parking area.  The contents of the bag were scattered about likely by a raccoon or squirrel.  By the bench at the spring lay a plastic Hooter's to-go bag alongside two cigarette butts.

This prompted the appearance of trash from inside the fountain that's me.  Yes, my inner-personal trash was energetically thrown out onto whoever had thrown trash into the woods.  I truly didn't think people still did that kind of thing.  Then I energetically 'trashed' the Hooter's patron and all those who create businesses that objectify women regardless of how "good" the food tastes. (Did the designer of the Hooter's logo, an owl, know the owl is symbolic of the Divine Feminine?  There's a story.)

I found relief in imagining the Hooter's patron having dinner by the spring rather than in the restaurant.  As for the bag of trash in the woods, I envisioned it being thrown out by a teenager trying to avoid trouble because he or she had forgotten to take it to the nearby county garbage site as a parent possibly asked.  Maybe Earth became the receptacle so these individuals could avoid being the receptacle of scolding.

Ironically I left the Spring happy.  Being there washed my negative thoughts away - until we drove home a different way.  The Cumberland Plateau like much of Tennessee is blessed with springs.  On this particular day, the abundant water sources visible as we drove reminded me of hydraulic fracturing called fracking, the questionable process used by gas companies to extract natural gas from earth. Tennessee seems open game for those with fracking interests.  As recently as this past week, a controversial plan was approved for the University of TN to lease nearly 9,000 acres of university owned land in the Cumberland Forrest. The land leased to an energy company would be fracked in order to research the effects of fracking.   

These are the days in which CEO's, politicians and those with overt power are literally 'going to water' for great monetary profit thanks to greed, negligence and power.  Simultaneously they and their hired hands, lobbyists, go to the airwaves to stir dissension and increase the division between the common people. They emphasize they're creating jobs and increasing our energy self-sufficiency while denying the potential short and long-term effects associated with the chemical cocktail used in the fracking process.  These chemicals may create toxicity in our waters leading to increased disease not to mention the harm done to the ecological system. 

Most people today I suspect have forgotten or not heard of "Erin Brockovich" the movie based on a real life situation in which a  corporation is negligent in acknowledging their toxic and deadly impact on a town's drinking water until a tenacious, tough woman, the movie's namesake, begins to research the company and the community members health issues resulting in their winning a large settlement from Pacific Gas & Electric. 

I found myself wondering what the Cherokee would have to say about fracking.  The Navaho and Hopi have battled companies for years regarding the mining practices contaminating the underground aquifer from which they get their water.

What is the path to right relationship with those who litter the spring in the country and roadsides as well as those who sell Nature with seeming disregard for health and long-term welfare of the planet and people?  Does the wisest path lie in the Cherokee story?  

This path suggests I always start with clearing the fountain within, forgiving those I judge and asking that they forgive me my judgment.  It involves "going" to the personal waters of my heart and staying with the things that stir me rather than ignoring or avoiding these things.  This means allowing my personal waters to flow and be felt whether in sorrow or joy. 


The worst thing I can do is allow the fountain in me to become clogged or "trashed" with judgment, resistance, fear, rigidity, pessimism, grudges, despair, a sense of threat or hatred.  This distances me from the personal waters of Me and from my fellow man. 

What if the waters of our world are healed as we honor the waters of our hearts, the tears of joy as well as sorrow wanting to flow and be felt?

The implications of  'going to the water' are stunning. Can you imagine the difference made if each of us practiced "going to the water" every morning. Imagine the resulting shift in our nations capital, our state capitals and our communities?   Imagine the changes that would occur in broader energy company policy if we first consciously tended the energy company each of us personally holds? We are the CEO's in charge of how our mind, heart and will's personal energy is spent?

I was about to write, "There are no easy answers."  Yet something tells me if we each practiced 'going to the water" as the traditional Cherokee did the answers would come, the shifts would flow and our world would see great change. 

What better time than this, the 20th Anniversary of World Water Day, to begin 'going to the water' each morning as you shower or bathe, to ask that all that comes between you and God as well as life on Earth be cleansed and washed away. 

I commit. Do you?  
-Dawn, The Good News Muse, 22 March 2013 dawn@imaginetheshift.com

Three-Dog Nights : January, 2013

Well, December 2012 slipped past bringing with it the end of the world...year.  My intention of capping off Earth Pilgrim's year with a thoughtful post proved to be so much wishful thinking. Not likely many readers of this blog, regular or occasional, took note, but I do feel a bit of a slacker anyway! Following its launch two years ago this month in a post titled, "Pushing Off from Shore", I find myself  reasonably pleased with what I've offered in words and photos along the way.

The second post of that January, "Standing at the Cave Door", featured reflections on the rugged winter underway in the Northeast in 2011 with shoveling out the bird feeders a frequent chore. But of course we all managed and spring and summer followed as the Wheel of the Year slowly carried us along.

By February of last year I was lamenting winter's tardy arrival and hoping for late season snows to cheer those of us who sincerely enjoy Mother Nature's winter offerings. One of my goals was to be able to make at least one snow angel. Such was not to be, and apart from the possible plus of lower heating bills, a real price paid was one of the worst flea and tick seasons I can remember! Angus-cat fortunately put up with the three flea baths I subjected him to.

2012 brought us other weather-weirdness, the most dramatic being Hurricane Sandy's devastating visit to the East Coast. My community which had endured terrible flooding a year earlier from back-to-back tropical storms, braced for Sandy's impact and felt hugely relieved to suffer mostly wind damage this time. The reality of climate change and its sobering impact is at last becoming a widely discussed topic. And that it merited pointed comment in President Obama's inaugural address this week makes me especially Hope-full.

This year has seen a marvelous turnaround when snow arrived early in December bringing us a perfectly beautiful white Christmas, very Currier & Ives. Nearly everyone I met spoke with the same enthusiasm of how much they were enjoying the snow. Driving challenges aside (that's just part of living here, most would tell you!), there's been a surge of snowman-making and great hope on my part for soon-to-be snow angels. Last week's thaw melted much of December's snow pack followed by this week's deep freeze of zero-degree nights. This brought to mind the old-time phrase of how many dogs to invite onto the bed to help keep you cozy on frigid winter nights. Three sounds like a lot to me, but one black cat has been quite welcome here.

A light snowfall is predicted for tonight just in time for the weekend's Full Moon. There is nothing quite as beautiful as snow glistening in a winter woods on a moon-bright night.

More seasonal-commentary to follow no doubt. Happy Winter, everyone!
And Happy 2013!!

In praise of Earth-Lovers & Way-showers: Rachel and Amy

As an eighth-grader in 1963 I was working on a research paper about water pollution when a teacher placed a copy of Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring in my hands. I wasn’t yet aware of just how much controversy it had already created since its publication the year before. Her powerfully and eloquently written book was shocking the public into a fuller awareness of the environmental dangers of DDT and also calling into question the too-often unregulated use of pesticides in general. Opposition to her message was fierce, but she would not be silenced.  

I could not put her book down. Like me, she loved the natural world passionately, especially the ocean and all wild creatures. And while she might be disheartened at the destruction people could cause to nature, she was certain of our ability to wake up to what was happening and seek ways to begin to repair the damage. She helped her readers… us…to see the larger story of environmental degradation caused by humans, and also helped us to recognize our place and part to play within this larger story. There were things we could and should do. Reading Silent Spring awakened in me a life long passion to be a part of that effort.

Her legacy is immense. One part was first the regulation of DDT and ultimately its banning altogether (though it’s again in limited use in Africa's malaria-prone areas). Another was the birth of the environmental movement and the start of Earth Day in 1970. As a college sophomore, I was an enthusiastic organizer for our campus’s events that April day.

More was to follow with the founding of the Environmental Protection Agency. Even if its record has been uneven, it still represents Carson’s hope that “as mankind…we prove our maturity and mastery not of nature, but of ourselves.” This quote is from William Souder’s enjoyable 2012 biography of Carson, On a Farther Shore, written in honor of the 50^th anniversary of Silent Spring’s publication and of her wonderful life.

That the Bald Eagle has made such a dramatic comeback after near annihilation from the effects of DDT, that there never has been a Spring silent of bird song, is due in large part to Rachel Carson’s dogged persistence and refusal to be silent. And without a doubt her life has instilled in me the unshakable conviction that one person can make a difference no matter how immense or daunting the task.

As I was finishing Souder’s biography, news reached me of the passing of another gentle, passionate Earth-lover, my Mystery School friend, Amy Ober Flanders. And like Rachel Carson who died far too soon, such is true of Amy’s going. They both were just 56.

Amy embodied a complete en-joy-ment of and intimate relationship with Gaia - Mother Earth - and all Her beings, sentient and insentient. She took heed of the words of Jean Houston, our mutual mentor, to "be fierce with your own reality". Amy fully inhabited her life, offering all of us this brightly lighted example for our own onward journeys.

It is my belief that Amy and Rachel are both “on a farther shore” to borrow Souder’s title. Someday I imagine that we’ll be catching up with them and giving our reports. While I am still here, I pledge to remain an unabashed Earth-lover as they both were.

And I have my voice. And I am not at all shy about raising it in both praise-song of this beautiful Earth and to help raise whatever clamor might be necessary in its preservation.

Thank you, Rachel, and thank you, Amy, for the blessings of your days shared here with us in this wondrous Earth-home.

May Love-Letter to my Earth-Home

Dear Gaia & Dear Dragonfly Cottage,

Earth Day's 42nd celebration is a few weeks past.
I hope you forgive this tardy love note.....
but I have been even more mesmerized than usual
by this year's rebirthing and the rekindling of your
green fire.

I live in such a splendid place, a sweet small home I call Dragonfly Cottage. It's snuggly nestled at the edge of the woods, midway up the east flank of Round Top Hill, a hidden retreat in this pleasant city suburb. From this
secluded perch, I look out at the broad expanse of the Susquehanna River approaching around a tree-fringed bend. It's joined there by the waters of Choconut Creek, rising from the Pennsylvania hills just to the south. Then it sweeps around the foot of Round Top and towards the west.

It is my fifth May-time here. The rising sun has reached the position on the horizon that sends it arching over the waters, tossing river-diamonds in at my door. Such dazzlement leads easily to giddiness first thing on sunny mornings.

Just beyond this small dooryard, the wood's humble cathedral has reopened its lofty, tree-canopied corridors. 2012's refurbishment is nearly complete in every imaginable shade of luminous green, myriad patterns of leaf, and the understory's lusty new growth. No longer can I see down to the river, but the wood's verdant tapestry, gently pierced by sun rays and May bird-song, is rich compensation.

Yet an ominous shadow looms over you, over this wondrous, newly-blossoming landscape. Barely 30 miles from here, the "extraction industry" known as fracking is ravaging the Pennsylvania countryside. It grieves my heart. I am allied with others working hard to keep this from New York State as well as those laboring mightily in Pennsylvania to prevent further destruction. So many do far more than I.....

A writer I've long admired, E.B. White, once wrote "I awake each morning torn between a desire to save the world and a desire to savor the world. This makes it hard to plan my day." 

Not far from where I sit composing these words, our shy resident chorister, the wood thrush, pours forth his ethereal song. Time enough to venture off the Hill to join forces with others to protect you, dear Gaia, and to work to mend so much misguided damaging. For now, I will linger here at Dragonfly Cottage, savoring the ineffable beauties of this blessed corner of the Earth.

With such grateful love from my heart to yours,
  ~Carol
 (your devoted Meadow & River Muse)

(both photos can be enlarged by clicking on them)

A Winter's Tale, the 2012 Version

Yesterday morning, a mid-February Sunday, my window framed a somewhat rare view of a snowy Round Top Hill. A Mourning Dove poked about seeking handouts after a starry, 15-degree night. For nearly all of the day it felt like "real Winter." What a strange season this has been as is true for nearly all reading this. Since putting up my bird feeders "late", right after New Year's,  I've had the usual visitors but not in sizable numbers....some warm days it's been a quiet scene outside the window. I've pulled on my boots maybe twice. And snowy driving conditions have played no hampering factor in getting about either.

For quite some time it's been the sense of awaiting Winter's arrival, like an expected visitor due at a certain time who has yet to show up. You tend to start worrying about what's possibly befallen this tardy one.

My lifelong residence in the Northeast has me hard-wired to the annual cycle of four distinct seasons and the delights each bring. By this time of year, as rugged as the Winter might be proving, there's such reassurance and satisfaction in the lengthening daylight and the first signs of Spring approaching. We're now past Winter's mid-point and this subtle rhythm that moves the days forward has been weirdly off-beat.

I've passed the point of being mollified as many are by lower heating bills whether for households or municipalities' road-care budgets. It's definitely hard not to fret what this too-mild Winter might mean, the foreboding sense of Global Warming looming large.  The last time I was at our local Agway buying sunflower seed, I heard the cashier saying just that to a customer: "Let's hope this wakes people up to the fact that global warming is really a problem we've got to deal with." Her comment came right after I'd noticed that the woman in line ahead of me was wearing summer sandals without any socks....sheesh.

For now I'm taking consolation in the fact that many a Winter has seen the most severe weather coming in February and March. There's the folk-saying, "When the days grow longer, the cold gets stronger."  Perhaps Winter, clearly "alive and well" over in Europe where they're having one of the harshest winters in 30 years, will pay us an overdue visit any day now and linger into May.....it's done this before. And then perhaps I'll come to complain about it overstaying its time. If so, I'll write another post to that effect...happily, I can tell you.

What I can report is that when I went out for a walk along the river yesterday afternoon, a snow flurry descended with biting winds and swirling curtains of snow. I strode along, my cheeks stinging from the cold, loving every bit of it!
 (click on either photo for a larger view)

Welcoming the Dragon's Fire

Day 2 of the Year of the Dragon ( Day 24 of 2012) seems a perfect time to reignite the fire of these Earth Pilgrim Notes after a long hiatus.  How perfect that 2012, this long-awaited and anticipated year, is paired with the Year of the Dragon!  It's the most powerful sign of the Chinese zodiac, a year that promises to be exciting, creative, and over the top.  Of the nearly numberless internet commentaries, I like Jonathan Linneman's description that "Dragon is also a symbol for transformation, just like the phoenix rising. This is the year of spiritual transformation for humanity on a global level."

And speaking of Fire, here on this propitious day our Earth-home is literally being lit up by a sun flare so powerful that SpaceWeather.com describes it as "on the threshold of being an X-flare, the most powerful kind".  Hold on to your hat!  At the least we can start scanning the night skies for spectacular displays of the aurora borealis. 

As to other potent transformations, the anti-fracking movement here in New York State is gaining wonderful traction. Harnessing the New Moon's Dragon energies yesterday, hundreds of demonstrators stormed Albany's Capitol Building.* 

Brandishing loaves of bread, they chanted "Break bread, not shale".  I was absent from their efforts, busy with two like-minded women raising power of Dragon and Earth-energies here on Round Top Hill.  But, given the web that connects us all, I know we fed the fire being fanned in the Capitol.
         
And more.  As I got ready to start in on my very long-delayed writing this morning, I was thrilled by the visit of two Bald Eagles, an adult and a juvenile.  For several glorious minutes they both alighted in trees within sight of Dragonfly Cottage, giving me time to scurry outside with my binoculars for a closer look.  As the juvenile lifted from his perch (or hers) to follow his parent, the branch gave way and crashed to the ground. A better omen for the launching of my 2012 writing work I could not have.

When I see the eagles I am often mindful how not all that long ago, within my lifetime, they had very nearly vanished from the Northeast, victims of human mistreatment of land and waters.  Finally, with people like Rachel Carson sounding the alarm, concerted action was pursued to avert catastrophe. Slowly at first and then steadily the Bald Eagle's numbers grew and stabilized once more.  This recovery still feels a miracle, one of which we can be justifiably proud.

We have many more such miracles to perform as we work together to mend and transform the many damaged and broken places and things in the world.  But there are these hopeful signs and here we are at last in this auspicious year, 2012, augmented now by Dragon Fire.  Now that my life has brought me back to Note-taking, I look forward to documenting some of these encouraging events as they unfold in the months to come.

Let us be on our way!

* Times-Union article on Year of the Dragon Rally

Woodswoman::Woodsman - A Tribute & A Call

Two wonderful Earth-lovers and unabashed tree-huggers, one still in his youth, one in her elder years, departed from us within only a few days of one another at the end of June. There is both a tribute to make and a call to issue on their behalf.

Anne LaBastille's passing on July 1st at 75 may have come to your attention as this news was carried by media outlets all across New England including the NY Times, the on-line site Huffington Post, and by numerous others around the world as her lifelong environmental activism touched so many lives. My acquaintance with her came, as it did for many, through reading her first book, Woodswoman, in which she described her Thoreau-inspired life on a small lake in the Adirondack Mountains of New York State. Her empowering story bolstered countless numbers of young women to be bold in their lives, especially on behalf of ecological issues and preservation of the wild.  As Utica Observer-Dispatch columnist, Dave Dudajek put it, "Yes, there had been tough mountain women throughout history, but few managed to channel their passion for the wilderness into encouragement that empowered others."

I count myself as blessed that in the late 1970s I heard her speak about her life and passions, and still vividly recall her bright eyes and smile and the infectious energy she imparted that evening. My own environmental work was already well-grounded by then, but as still a young woman, she gave me yet more "fuel for the Fire."  The marvelous work that poured through her over these several decades is well-documented and can be easily found through an on-line search. Something of her visionary outlook was captured in an interview Dave Dudajek recalled.  She'd spoken of her 17 years as a commissioner of the Adirondack Park Agency this way, "I use two points of reference. I look back 100 years and try to envision what the park was like then. With that past in mind, I then try to look ahead 100 years and try to imagine what it might be like then. Will there still be clean air, the clean water, the loons, the osprey for the next generation to enjoy? Then I make my decision." 

Brett Armstrong was a young professional forester and logger, the youngest son of our neighbors, Marna and Keith. I remember the day they brought him home from the hospital to begin his life on their family farm. My kids and he were playmates all their growing up years just outside our small village of Unadilla Forks.

His choice of  the College of Environmental Science & Forestry at Syracuse University was in perfect keeping with his deep and passionate love of the outdoors. Following college he and his wife, Emily, built a beautiful log home and welcomed two children; their third child is due in September. After several years of working for others, Brett launched his own business, Back Forty Habitat and Timber Management. The name of his company speaks eloquently of his highly ethical approach to this work, striving to maintain a balance of harvesting trees while minimizing long-term impact on the woodlands in which he worked.

But it is a dangerous profession even with all safety measures followed, and on June 15th, Brett was tragically killed by a falling tree. Few deaths have shaken me more than his when word came. It still is and always will be impossible not to remember him as a sweet-faced little boy at play or the sun-tanned teenager driving their tractor past our house on a summer's day, giving me his jaunty wave.

While in a certain sense he was just getting started in life, he nonetheless touched so many. Over 575 people came to the calling hours in his small hometown. His obituary began "Brett Armstrong, lover of the woods and wildlife..." To prepare for the funeral, his minister, Pastor Betty, came to see the farm where he had grown up. His parents told me she walked the fields and went down along the Unadilla River that runs through the farm to get a clear sense of this place that Brett so loved. Weighted with the task of helping everyone through his funeral, this visit surely fortified her for this most daunting of days.

I was not able to attend the service, but my daughter spoke of how moving it was and of what Pastor Betty said of Brett's legacy. I offer this paraphrase: "Brett loved the land passionately each and every day of his life. This is what he passes on to us. It is up to us to carry on this legacy in our daily lives. To love the land, the fields, the woods, all of Nature, with this same passion."

So these two are no longer among us. For their loved ones it will a long period of mourning their absence. In addition to Pastor Betty's thoughts, those of Wendell Berry, the farmer-philosopher poet and Earth advocate, serve to clarify the call these two tremendous Earth stewards, Anne and Brett, send back to us. "The care of the Earth is our most ancient and most worthy and, after all, our most pleasing responsibility. To cherish what remains of it, and to foster its renewal, is our only legitimate hope." 

Thank you, Anne. Thank you, Brett. We hear you, and we will do our very best.

Raising the Roof on Sun Dog Farm - Part Two

As promised, here are a few more words and stories to round out this quite marvelous tale. A month of "good living" has taken place now under the green metal roof, and the residents, two people, two dogs, and two cats, seem in complete agreement that it's bordering on Bliss! (Next time I'm there I'll try getting them all to pose for a group photo) The four solar panels are ticking and gurgling beautifully right along, and the gorgeous "super" Full Moon of March 27th and 28th flooded the interior with its Lunar blessing.

[Actually the latest report is that a bluebird, newly returned from the South, showed up a few days ago not far from the front door...and it's my hunch that she or he arrived straight from "happiness-land"....trusting you know that expression :-) ]

Reviewing the list of stories mentioned in the previous post, what connects them is the remarkable satisfaction each gave me from such literal, hands-on work (or "feet-on" in the case of "stirring" the cob-mixture for the floor!).

When this ambitious project of Tracy and Justin's was launched, I knew I'd definitely enjoy being a part of it, but the incredible delight of helping "raise a house" far far exceeded my early estimation.

I wouldn't want to gloss over the frustration and exhaustion that presented themselves at times, especially as the hoped-for three-year time frame stretched into nearly five. Being an off-and-on helper made this element less onerous for me personally. As one of the Moms of the AARP work crew, my mother's heart swelled with pride time after time watching this slow but steady progress in the pursuit of our kids' ambitious dream to build this wonderful Earth-friendly dwelling. 


There are the practical reasons to have taken this all on such as lower heating costs and comparative ease of maintenance. But then there are other more "priceless" ones such as how beautiful a home this is in its simple but elegant design and light-filled interior. And for anyone who's had the opportunity to step inside a straw bale home, you will know what I mean when I say that you feel the palpable "aliveness" inside these amazing walls. "Earth-friendly" takes on a most vibrant meaning....


I know that all four of us parents, Children of the '60s "with flowers in our hair" (well, at least I put some in my hair!) set out in our young adulthoods to help make a difference in a pretty-battered world. Living lightly on the Earth was an early tenet taught to our children upon their arrival on the planet in the mid-'70s. Speaking then at least for myself, watching and helping Tracy and Justin's straw bale house grow from its dream-inception and emerge slowly from the earth at Sun Dog Farm, certainly has been watching a piece of my hopes and dreams blossom as well. 

Justin and Tracy, heartfelt congratulations, with much love from Mom/Carol. And sharing the message again from 98-years-young Dottie Carpenter, "May you have many years of wonderful happiness in your beautiful new Home."

Raising the Roof on Sun Dog Farm - Part One

On a cloudy August morning in 2006, I stepped into the muddy trench dug around the rectangle of packed dirt, and helped my partner, Barb, set our first 50-pound block of our adult children's dream. We are half of the "AARP Crew" helping to lay the foundation blocks of my son, Justin, and daughter-in-law, Tracy's, straw bale house. The Crew is composed of their Baby Boomer parents, all of us eager to be a part of this eco-friendly, 21st century, house-raising. Ken and Chuck are the proud Dads.

Their desire to do as much of the construction with human labor (and much heart), to use natural and/or recycled materials, and have a good bit of fun along the way brought the AARP crew back day after day, year after year, and also dozens of friends coming for various house-building bees spread over four and a half years time. Living only a 30-mile drive away, Tracy's parents, Barb and Chuck, were devoted "day laborers" through all those many many months (and had the most fun as a result, I'm guessing).

On the day they at last moved in, February 20th, 2011, somewhat dazed as well as delighted that The Day had at last arrived, Justin stood with arms folded looking around at their home and observed that the whole thing was like birthing a child with all the attendant joys and anxieties. Oh, yes....

Attempting to choose a few favorite stories for one post is a tall order! An excellent set of photos and running commentary by Justin of the work through 2008 can be had by visiting this link: http://www.meadowmuse.com/sundog/index.html

Certainly five of the most exciting days were the days each of the five, two-story tall "bents" were raised and secured. Justin's caption for this photo reads: "A tractor, 48 hours, and eight people later, we got to this point. Mike said he was sure the Amish would have been chuckling. First time we stood this up, my only thought was: 'My god, this is tall'". Just before dusk on December 28th of that year, the last bent gently "thunked" into place, and as we did each time that happened, as one we threw up our arms and yelled our delight.

Other stories that come to mind: learning to hand-hew wooden pins, helping to unload half of the 80-pound straw bales one late summer day (my arms were jelly that night), pushing heavy wheel-barrow loads of plaster about, mixing the cob for the natural floor with my bare feet, and having my breath taken away each time I'd arrive and see what wonders had been accomplished since my last visit.

As the sense of the floor plan began to emerge, Barb and I would stand beside the future window seat and conjure up a picture of sitting there together with our first cup of tea. And, lo, that day arrived:

Do check back for more photos and descriptive tales and especially to see what this amazing house-of-straw looks like in February of 2011.

...to be continued!!...