Notes

 "Gratitude is fertile ground."  

Julia Cameron  

    

I have begun reading Craig Child's book, Apocalyptic Planet, Field Guide to the Future of the Earth.  It is giving me courage for the journey into this time of climate chaos. He reminds me that the earth is ancient (certainly by human standards, anyway) and has never been what we think of as stable. We know we are not in for an easy time, and that to witness the extinction of species is a heavy, sorrowful burden. Yet, to read of Childs' walk among the falling glaciers in Patagonia or the unforgiving desert of Sonora, somehow gives me strength.  Childs has an ability to both see and "listen" to deserts, plummeting sheets of ice, and the slow decay of trees and can actually translate some of those messages for us. I think I will go out and take a listen. I have learned that even pollen has a song. The song that I can hear is the hum of a bee at work. We, too, still have work to do, and a major portion of that work is learning to honor the struggles of the life of our earth today. Our song does not have to be solely a dirge of destruction. Yesterday, I decided to play my flute in the backyard. As I slowly got used to the idea that I might actually be heard, I had a sense that the leaves of the trees were listening. The mockingbird was busily singing his multitude of songs, and the crow added one caw for good measure. I am determined to go out singing with them.  

      

             

image: San Leandro, July 2023