Back to Basics

The people around me sometimes don't understand why I do the things I do. I suppose that happens to all of us to some extent. Contrarily, we cannot understand why they can't understand. When the reasons for our actions seem so obvious to us, it isn't easy to explain them if and when they are questioned, doubted, or slurred.

The most common misconception in my world is that I am trying to "save the Earth." I guess the expression is a softer way of saying I'm an environmentalist, and I appreciate the sentiment to some degree. But it is a bit of a fallacy.

First, who out there is trying to wreck the Earth, really? Iris Marie Bloom,
director of Protecting Our Waters closes her emails with this Teton Sioux quote in her signature:

"The frog does not drink up the pond in which he lives."

While there are some humans stupid enough to do such a thing, they are not worthy of my attention. They will destroy themselves long before they defeat a planet, so while I wish they would see the error of their ways, I need not come to the Earth's aid for fear of them. They will shrivel when their own pond is dry.

Second, me saving the Earth is like an ant throwing a boulder. If a boulder is ever going to fly, it won't be because of an ant.

Third, the Earth saves me. Every day. Its woods keep me sane when life gets frantic. Its waters refresh my skin when I get thirsty. Its bounty nourishes my brain and keeps me strong.

It offers warning signs to alert me to pending danger and shields me from an uninhabitable universe. The list goes on and on.

Lastly, I do not consider myself a steward. Look up the word. None of its nine definitions in my dictionary apply to me. I am not "a person who manages another property or affairs" nor "a person who has charge" of anything. In fact, I have quiet the opposite. The Earth has charge of me, which brings me to my forth point: I have no doubt that the Earth will persist much longer than me or any of my ancestors or any of the beings that surround me.

Now, if I witnessed an injury to my friend, I would most certainly try to stop the bleeding. I would try to save her. But when that friend lives, she will be alive first because of goodness, not heroics.

Additionally, if a stranger is kind to you, do you kick him in the teeth? If a child brings you a flower, do you tear it to bits? If a neighbor brings you a pie, do you stuff it your mouth and slam the door? The people in my life would answer, "never" to all of the above.

Why then would we take what the Earth gives, manipulate it into something toxic, and then stuff it back into its pores? Earth's gifts are not meant only for us. American society takes and takes, without ever putting anything back where it was found or without offering anything but spent fuel in return. It is I who doesn't understand why people do what they do.

When I recycle, conserve, reuse, abstain, and act in the ways that I do, I'm not doing it to save something. I'm doing it because I appreciate what the Earth gives to me. I'm doing it because I am grateful for yesterday, thankful for this moment, and hopeful for today. And if tomorrow is the day I die, I want to be sure my existence did not rob others of the same experience. I want to leave water in the pond for the next frog, save him though it may.

The fallacy then? When people say, "you want to save the Earth," they infer that you are either more qualified or more naive than them. You become a scapegoat – they don't need to do it because you'll take care of it. However, if they say, "you are grateful for the Earth," they infer either acknowledgement that they feel the same or remorse that they do not.

Life will always bring us past people who cannot understand. In the end, I'm grateful for them too, as they force me to acknowledge my own virtues. They'll have to excuse me though, because I can't linger too long to explain. I have an entire planet to save.