Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Mother Earth

This is a photo of the lake at a reservoir.

Mother Earth has brought a very different summer this year. Here we are in July, where it would usually bring many more warm mornings and nights. We’ve certainly had a few blaring hot days, but not enough. The change is enough and felt in different parts; I feel that things are changing. We seem to be reaching capacity, too much weight for Mother Earth to handle. She can handle it, yes, but is she trying to warn us, teach us, snap us into a better direction? Will the masses listen or continue on the path they are on? I feel the heaviness of something.

And the other day, when I bumped into the landlord who lives on the other side of the creek, I was astonished to learn that whoever was clearing out the house of the neighbors who had moved, took a glass counter top and threw it into the creek behind his home and crushed the glass into slivers probably with their feet. The landlord discovered this on one of his walks when he makes sure brush is trimmed down and such. The deer cross the creek, as well as other critters. But can you imagine the absolute disregard for nature and the people that live around it. It is unbelievable to me that someone would do such a thing. I pray that people that do these types of unmindful acts wake up and find it in their hearts to realize they are a part of it and they are destroying the earth and themselves.


keiko amano said...


The photo is just breath taking!
And it's so appropriate for this post.

I read the first paragraph and knew what something was. "Will the masses listen or continue on the path they are on? I feel the heaviness of something."

My heart aches knowing such destructive behaviors continue in the world. It isn't just those vandalism and BP oil spill, but everywhere. Yesterday in our walk, a dog barked at my friend ferociously. Wow, it was almost like the dog was going to attack her. She's been a dog lover all her life. The owner quickly stopped the barking, but at the corner of my eye, I saw her kicking her dog. I felt worse.

Rebb said...

Thank you, Keiko. It's the good thing I took the photo with a digital. It's sort of blinding just looking at it on the screen.

I suppose we bring the balance by doing the best actions we can, but it felt good to write about it. Poor dog. I can imagine how it must have made you felt. I had a similar experience once when I went out with a sort of first date with someone I worked with. When we got to his home, I put my hand down to let his German Shepard feel me out and then I saw his mouth opening and it was too late, he bit me. Not too bad, but the guy hit him on the nose really good. I felt horrible. Ever since then, I've been very leery of German Shepard’s. I am a dog lover too, but this dog must have sensed my fear because he did scare me.

keiko amano said...


About the fear dogs sensed in us, I had a similar experience with a Labrador-like dog once. The owner was a dog lover, but she suspected the dog must have been formerly abused. It seemed that was the reason she took pride in caring for the dog. That was good for the dog. But she never did anything to control the behavior, and once was enough for me. I stayed away and never touched that dog. I think not all the dog owners know how to train their pets. Like parenting, it must not be easy. Don’t I know it!

Separately but still relating to the subject, I thought about it. Those situations would happen when we least expected. Right? Then, we become distraught and don’t know what to do, we don’t want to make waves and so on, so we end up not say anything.

But, I think it’s good to be courageous and raise our concern at the moment of such surprises. I read a memoir (maybe it was “Running with Scissors”) that the narrator’s father used to hit him and other children, and the family went to a therapy session, and their psychologist simply told the father to stop beating his children. After that, the father stopped beating the children. The narrator said he was shocked how easy it was. So, I thought, sometimes, right persons’ words at right time could make a difference. Victims usually cannot speak up. So, I’d like to say as follows in next opportunities..
“Princess, please do not kick the dog. I beg you.”
“Yahoo, please never hit the dog on his nose or anywhere. Otherwise, I’ll never speak to you.”
Something like that.

Rebb said...

Keiko, Yes, training/parenting must not be very easy at all. I agree that it’s good to be courageous. If only it were as easy as in the memoir you read. It’s great that it worked in that case, but I would guess that doesn’t happen often. I think the narrator was lucky.

But, I think you are right in that at certain moments the right words at the right time can make a difference. I like your suggestions for speaking up. Excellent thoughts, Keiko!

Vincent said...

Will the masses listen or continue on the path they are on? I feel the heaviness of something.

I recognize in this the sympathetic resonance: that when you feel heaviness, you will be more sensitive to the heavy things that go on. When you are light and joyful you will see it reflected everywhere, because it is one of the elements of what's going on.

The danger is that we may see the wrongs in the world, that we cannot right, as somehow validating our internal heaviness, as if God has ordered us to shoulder this huge burden and collapse under it. But this is an illusion! All you or I have to do is protect our own selves from whatever strikes us as personally threatening. Sometimes our notion of what is personally threatening need recalibrating to something reasonable.

Lucky are those who believe in an all-knowing, all-loving and almighty God. They can shed all these burdens and walk with a light step. (I am not trying to promote God, by the way, and am personally an unbeliever.)

Rebb said...

Vincent, Retreating is what I sometimes need to do: Retreat, reflect, write. I do very much “feel” the world, sometimes the intensity varies. Luckily the little squirrels and birds around here ground me. I realize the wrongs have their place in the grand scheme, and that I must care for myself. At the same time, I need to capture the moments as they flit across my mental screen—as you know all too well.

I like your closing.


“An unbeliever,” he says.

“And what does he believe in?” she wonders. She knows she must have missed one of his posts on it or has she forgotten?

“What does anyone believe in?” Hmm. She dozes off into a deep sound sleep, hearing only the distant chatter of the robins.