It has now been a couple weeks since we experienced the terrible heat wave, aka “the dome,” and the reality of its impact on our lives.
It took a few days for us to learn about the number of human deaths, mostly of those most on the margins. Those included a farm worker from Guatemala who died on a farm in Marion County. Those included many elderly and houseless people. And I expect in the days and weeks ahead we will learn about many more. And likely we will never know the full toll from all of this on human life.
And as the days go by I’m noticing the impact that heat had on the plants and trees around me. At first there were a few plants that were wilted in my yard. With a good drink of water those plants seemed to make a relatively quick recovery. But in the time since I notice the leaves on the long standing trees and plants like the rhododendron in the front of my house that has been there, I expect, for decades. Because it has been around for a while it is not something I pay much attention too. I just take for granted that it will survive, crispy leaves and all. But as these days go on I notice more crispy leaves. I notice more plants that I’m not sure will necessarily make it.
The heat dome seemed like one more extraordinary event in our lives in this time of extraordinary events. And I don’t mean extraordinary is a good way. The heat called all kinds of things into question like what the longer term shifts for our verdant part of the world will be and how so many things may not survive. Scientists have been quick to confirm what we knew just living through it, that this is a sign of climate change. Yes, this felt like a big and loud and clear sign.
I’m moved to offer a prayer today for the earth and for all of us. One of the prophets I turn to is Joanna Macy. She is an author, environmentalist, teacher. She was a teacher of mine many years ago at seminary and her message of the deep interconnection of all of life has been a guide for me through the years. I offer you her words, written to the plants and to the animals, as a prayer for hope and for healing:
“We hear you, fellow creatures. We know we are wrecking the world and we are afraid. What we have unleashed has such momentum now, we don’t know how to turn it around. Don’t leave us alone, we need your help. You need us too for your own survival. Are there powers there you can share with us?
“I, lichen, work slowly, very slowly. Time is my friend. This is what I give you: patience for the long haul and perseverance.”
“It is a dark time. As deep-diving trout I offer you my fearlessness of the dark.”
“I lion, give you my roar, the voice to speak out and be heard.”
“I, am caterpillar. The leaves I eat taste bitter now. But dimly I sense a great change coming. What I offer you, humans, is my willingness to dissolve and transform. I do that without knowing what the end-result will be, so I share with you my courage too.”
In these days may we find wisdom, may we find courage, may we find hope.
Tom