Of all of the poems we have been provided thus far, I have been touched most deeply by “The Sycamore” by Wendell Berry. Its words moved me so because of a specific tree that has been a part of my consciousness for as long as I can recall and is almost indiscernible from the detailed description Barry provides.
About a ten minute walk through the woods from my back porch stands the most noble, ancient tree I have ever laid eyes on. It is so tall and the branches so far-reaching that it is virtually impossible to decipher its edges from the trees around it. My tree sits in its own special space, surrounded for yards on all sides by flowering grasses and berry bushes in spite of the dense forest around it. It is almost as if all of the other trees avoid infiltrating this tree’s space out of respect for its strength and power. Its trunk is so thick that myself and two companions wrapping our arms around it cannot lock hands on the other side.
For as long as I can remember, I have watched this tree thrive season after season. I have seen it blossoming in spring and decorated with icicles in winter. I have watched its limbs fall and decay after a lightning’s unforgiving strike. I have seen the hollows in its sides multiply with age. I have listened as it cracked and struggled in the howling wind. It has withstood with great honor the attacks of humankind ourselves. One side of the tree bears scars of an attempted tree house aloft in its branches. High above the ground between two branches positioned perfectly for a resting spot, lies the only evidence of Ashley and Jake’s dwindling love affair.
When I think of all the world and life this sedentary tree has seen in my lifetime alone, I am struck by the reality that these events are a mere fraction of its earthly experiences. I am grateful to this tree for its inspiration, its comfort, and its joys. All of the times I have spent with this tree and all of the strength it has demonstrated to me are a testament to the true value of each person finding their place in nature.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
The Makings of a Book
The idea that something as simple as a book itself began, literally, as a piece of nature is something we can all too easily forget. Today’s books, admittedly, began with trees and water, but throughout the process of transformation from branch to book, so many unnatural elements are introduced that it is difficult to bring ourselves to have the same connection with the natural element of everything we come into contact with than it would have been, say, 600 years ago.
In her poem “Parchment”, Michelle Boisseau recounts the now ancient process of creating a book from beginning to end using only natural ingredients. She accounts for every detail from page to ink and the process of each element’s transformation. She recalls a list of animals that would have lost their lives to the production of the book, including assistants to the illuminator who dropped “like flies” after preparing the arsenic for the yellow die. Each color, not only time consuming and labor intensive, comes at an additional cost.
The irony of the lesson? All of the hours of work, all of the sacrificed lives, all for the eyes of one lone observer. This book is labored over by the common people who will never have the joy of gazing upon the completed project for the enjoyment of one person with enough money and power to sustain the project.
The beauty of a poem like this, however, ties very nicely into the class topic “Our Place in Nature”. It serves to remind us that every single thing we use in our daily lives originated from a natural process or a natural place. Now in today’s world, most everything is synthetic, but the idea that, at one time, every single thing we take for granted, things as seemingly simple and commonplace as books, originally took this much effort and came from an entirely natural source is astonishing.
In her poem “Parchment”, Michelle Boisseau recounts the now ancient process of creating a book from beginning to end using only natural ingredients. She accounts for every detail from page to ink and the process of each element’s transformation. She recalls a list of animals that would have lost their lives to the production of the book, including assistants to the illuminator who dropped “like flies” after preparing the arsenic for the yellow die. Each color, not only time consuming and labor intensive, comes at an additional cost.
The irony of the lesson? All of the hours of work, all of the sacrificed lives, all for the eyes of one lone observer. This book is labored over by the common people who will never have the joy of gazing upon the completed project for the enjoyment of one person with enough money and power to sustain the project.
The beauty of a poem like this, however, ties very nicely into the class topic “Our Place in Nature”. It serves to remind us that every single thing we use in our daily lives originated from a natural process or a natural place. Now in today’s world, most everything is synthetic, but the idea that, at one time, every single thing we take for granted, things as seemingly simple and commonplace as books, originally took this much effort and came from an entirely natural source is astonishing.
Health and Wellness and Nature.
Last Wednesday I attended the Health and Wellness Expo at the Student Recreation Center. Among many vendors for various products and services related to every facet of maintaining a healthy lifestyle, there was a specific display that caught my attention. Shaklee, a company specializing in all-natural products of all sorts, had a stand overflowing with all sorts of cleaning products and personal care products, each one of which was completely devoid of any unsafe chemicals. When I approached the woman behind the display, she immediately started into her spiel about the benefits of using her products.
My interest in this sort of information begins at home. My mother suffers from Multiple Sclerosis and is extremely sensitive to any and all fragrances and chemicals in every form you could possibly imagine. When the saleswoman plugged her products with the statement “Your baby could literally drink this entire bottle and you wouldn’t even have to call poison control.”, I knew immediately that this was something that would be extremely beneficial to my mother. Not only do the ingredients in these products frighten me because of my mother’s hypersensitivity to them, they frighten me because I have spent a lot of time looking at the damage that can be done by exposure to the chemicals within the products. The same poisonous chemicals that are sprayed on crops and are linked with countless illnesses are the chemicals that we willingly spray into the air in our homes and rub into our skin.
So, along with efforts to stay closer to nature in other ways, it is important to remember to stay close to nature even in ways that you wouldn’t normally consider “natural”.
My interest in this sort of information begins at home. My mother suffers from Multiple Sclerosis and is extremely sensitive to any and all fragrances and chemicals in every form you could possibly imagine. When the saleswoman plugged her products with the statement “Your baby could literally drink this entire bottle and you wouldn’t even have to call poison control.”, I knew immediately that this was something that would be extremely beneficial to my mother. Not only do the ingredients in these products frighten me because of my mother’s hypersensitivity to them, they frighten me because I have spent a lot of time looking at the damage that can be done by exposure to the chemicals within the products. The same poisonous chemicals that are sprayed on crops and are linked with countless illnesses are the chemicals that we willingly spray into the air in our homes and rub into our skin.
So, along with efforts to stay closer to nature in other ways, it is important to remember to stay close to nature even in ways that you wouldn’t normally consider “natural”.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Reduce, Reuse. Recycle,
As I walk across campus, the crisp fall air swirls hundreds of leaves up around me. Sadly, on this particular walk, I am encountering more litter than leaves. I am frustrated by the fact that on this many occasions, someone can’t be bothered to dispose of their garbage in a trash can. It’s not for the lack of available receptacles on campus. It bothers me even more when a plastic water bottle or a piece of paper blows past me. Recycling is sort of an obsession of mine (it literally borders on OCD) and the idea that some people don’t do it in spite of the fact that it is one of the easiest and, nowadays, most effortless forms of environmental sustainability truly gets to me. My roommate actually gets annoyed with me and my sorting and spastic collecting of recyclable products. One of my biggest pet peeves about living here on campus is the amount of Styrofoam that gets thrown away because of the lack of proper receptacles, but I digress.
The point I am really getting at is that our campus is a beautiful one. We are extremely lucky. And we should take the initiative, even the little passive steps, to maintain that beauty. My connection to the area, I know, has a lot to do with the fact that I grew up mere minutes from campus and my sister and I have spent so much time outdoors in Kalamazoo that I consider this a part of my home.
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