ecospirit

For quite some time now – you can trace it through these posts over the years – I have been trying to find a middle way, to shoot the gap through the World Bull’s horns. It is a quandary.  I am a born pessimist, leading to a tendency to adopt a Climate Doomer perspective (buttressed by deep study of the science and the recalcitrance of short-sighted political leaders), but pay attention to those who offer some hope for world civilization.  Every time I settle into acceptance of our end, something bubbles up, suggesting the possibility of stopping the slide into catastrophe either by techno-fixes of various sorts or the Great Turning, where we actually change our values – in its boldest form, even consciousness - and thus behavior. You could state it quite simply as spending uncomfortable time on the horns of the dilemma between the stoic and the heroic, never forgetting the possibility of metanoia. 

It is virtually impossible to hold both of these perspectives at once. The best I can do is go back and forth. I am aware of holding back despair, shoring up acceptance, over quite a long time now.  But I found myself  uncommonly committed to the 2024 election, shoring the Democratic dike against fascism. And at the same time, improving the chance of more than one political term to work on mitigating climate change. Those hopes are now dashed, and we must rely upon companies, cities and states, local communities, and the rest of the world's governments to keep climate faith. 

Last week, I read an eloquent essay by Elizabeth West, “Learning How to Die.” West addresses the preponderance of evidence that global civilization is in endgame, heading into a death spiral (like many on the left, she speaks of the death of the Earth, which I must return to). Instead of remaining in denial, she counsels to confront the death of our world and our species and live through it with guts and grace. Above all, we need to work to find meaning in this crucial time in human history. 

West’s essay was shared on the Quaker Earthcare Witness list-serve, eliciting a range of responses.  Several agreed with her, which is a lot more than those who would have agreed five years ago.  Others said, no, never give up.  One searing response was just as eloquent as West’s, and it came from a college geology teacher, Allen McGrew. As a geologist, he knows clearly that the Earth herself is not in danger anytime soon.  However, McGrew agrees that we will lose much that we love, including complex civilization, and many species.  But having gone through a near-death experience in which his own deep faith worked together with a highly trained medical team to save his life, he feels it doesn’t make sense to give up when there’s a chance that life – as he puts it – “one humble species” – can be saved. Here’s what he writes from that newborn sense after such a victorious ordeal:

We are held in the palms of a Life larger and more beautiful and more enduring than any of us can imagine. Every moment of striving for that one Great Life is a moment worth striving for. Even if we die, even if our children die, even if human civilization collapses, even if the human race dies out, if by our intent loving labor we can save just one humble species -- if just one little alpine primrose on a remote mountain range somewhere can eek through due to our efforts that would otherwise have perished, it will be worth it. Even if our efforts yield no physical result at all, the labor will still have been worth it, because the labor is love itself.

Much will die, but the Life that embraces us is a Life beyond death. The Life that enfolds us transcends our failings and our human weaknesses. It has given us life and we owe it all the life that we can return to it.

West overstates the issue with the Earth (overreaching from the Sixth Extinction to planetary death), but she gets the essential underlying mood of the moment, the elephant in the room.  It’s the coming end of capitalist civilization, coming faster than we think.  But what of Allen McGrew’s response, a sober scientist, his love for life passionately renewed by the mysterious gift of his own life? 

 

EPOCHAL FLOOD: Nominally, my occasional annual letter, but in the larger scheme of things, this is more like the anniversary of the Great Year.  Our flood, a result of several days of heavy rain followed by the stalling of Hurricane Helene over the Black Mountains across the valley from us, is the largest since the last ice age 10,000 years ago (per a geologist friend here, who studies the sediments). On September 27, flood waters crested locally at 27 feet above flood level, causing massive damage across western NC. Our landscape will not be the same, and may well not recover during human history, probably well short of another 10,000 years. Every creekside hollow, and many small towns and hamlets were washed away, including nearby Micaville.  Millions of trees went down, and the Blue Ridge Parkway suffered numerous landslides, as did Highway 80, our link to the East.  The latter is probably unrecoverable.  On the other side of our Blacks, Pensacola suffered extreme damage, with large portions of the road washed out, along with many houses.  Most of the Yancey County deaths were there, along with seven here in the South Toe Valley. The overall death toll of 110 across the affected mountain region sounds like an undercount.  

  Here at 300 Dharma Way, we were virtually unaffected, other than communication systems.  Although several large trees were uprooted by wet soil and high winds, only a couple of small trees fell across our road, which was deeply rutted. We lost our landline and internet in the storm, and communications were difficult until we set up a temporary Starlink system, courtesy of Elon Musk. Several homes in Celo Community suffered flood damage.  The most severe was the Celo Inn, where the innkeepers lost their home and livelihood. Many roads and highways were impassable for days and weeks afterwards.  Fortunately, local men with heavy machinery were able to restore the road at both ends of the bridge into the community on Seven Mile Ridge Road, so we were able to travel out within 48 hours.  These routes varied daily, depending upon road repairs, and for awhile some 2 hour journeys lengthened to 7.  Interstate 40 to Tennessee remains closed, three and a half months later. 

RESPONSE: The good news is that Celo Community and the South Toe Volunteer Fire Department led an exemplary effort at rapid response, and the community hosted daily briefings for several weeks after the Flood.  Work-crews sprang up, and their work continues into the new year.  This response has been a healing balm.  A fine article highlighting CCI’s leadership was published in Sierra magazine.  But as I noted during Celo Friends Meeting worship, these efforts are happening all over the mountains, mostly led by local churches.  

As I write, the unsightly debris piles are disappearing, though scars will be visible for a long time. The course of the South Toe River (and many others) has altered dramatically.  The Camp Celo swimming hole is now a pile of rock covered with 15 inches of river flow. FEMA was ineffective in the immediate emergency, but has worked steadily to help folks during the months since.  Several independent groups have raised relief funds, which are being carefully administered.  A donor gave Celo Friends Meeting $100,000 for flood relief.  Geeta served on the committee to quickly disburse the money, now totaling another 10 or 15 thousand, in small amounts not more than $2500. Camp Celo has been donated sufficient funds to hire a contractor to oversee repairs in anticipation of camp opening this summer.  However, “Fairyland”, the portion of camp marked by idyllic forested riverbank, has been devastated, and will need to be totally reimagined.

Photos courtesy Robin Dreyer at celophoto.blogspot.