Day 87
I just received an invite to play Sappyfest 14 in Sackville, NB (August 3rd 12-2 pm at the church across from the swan pond) as part of a panel discussion about those born into a "climate crisis" situation hosted by Tamara from The Weather Station. It is an important event, possibly the most important of the festival in my opinion. Here is the a description of the event:
“Most of us have a callus of sorts formed over the words ‘climate change’ or ‘greenhouse gas emissions’. And how could we not? This is a callus of necessity - many of us cannot remember a time when this slow moving crisis wasn’t looming, in some way, over our world and our futures.
But how does it feel, really, to live in climate crisis? How does it feel to be born and raised into crisis?
How has this affected our communities, our hearts, our connections to each other, our thoughts?
And what can we do now?
This is an attempt to find new ways of talking about this thing we so rarely talk about, so rarely encounter outside of a political or adversarial space.
Finding new ways to see and witness each other at this moment in history, as we grapple in our very human ways with this most difficult question, and as we try and figure out how to love and how to live in this world, as it is in 2019."
My first response to these world-sized problems would be to heal thyself. From the Sacred Tree, "What we do to each other, the earth, we do to ourselves." Address or confront or overcome the pink elephant that resides deep within our own individual states of being. Ditch the guilt, fear, shame and all judgment that controls so many of our decisions or non-decisions. Trust and allow Mother Nature's ability to heal all. End the fight with her. Help one another, join forces and energies and tap into the collective consciousness that exists.
The next thought is a call to reduce all air traffic. During the 9/11 crisis most air traffic was grounded globally during daylight hours. For a week flights only traveled at night. Atmospheric conditions and temperatures dropped in these few days.
Most importantly:
Plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees plant trees. In yards, in schools, in parks, in cities, along roads, in towns in villages, in the countryside, in rich areas, in poor places, in warm countries, in the cold north, in every corner of the planet. Municipalities, counties, states, provinces, territories it doesn't matter what we call it or how we divide the borders, plant trees.
On the road from my house to the Camera Obscura. Cape Blomidon straight ahead. Crystal clear tide.