Words&Dirt

“I have heard talk about a light at the end of the tunnel: Is it the brightness of day out in the world of life, or is it a train bearing down on us? Only time will tell, and our only choice seems to be to keep going toward it, whatever it may be. Perhaps we may imagine that as long as we keep moving, we can continue to hope.

Western metaphors draw on this kind of imagery––the linearity of the tunnel, the necessity of staying on track, the future as a distant point toward which we are moving. Hope conceived in the future tense often taps into this imagery: somewhere farther down the line there will be a better day, a place of light, a flourishing world, a new dawn. Indeed, religious traditions that promise an end of time––either as eternity in otherworldly paradise, or as eternal paradise on Earth––may offer little reason why we should concern ourselves with destruction in the here and now. After all, are we not hastening onward toward a vision of transformed perfection?

Jessie and her people don’t hold out such expectations. Rather than hoping that somehow we’ll make it through, their way of thinking of the future impels us to take care of the ground right now, right where we are, because we are here, because this is our source, because our purpose in life is to bequeath life, not to unmake it. Jessie expressed such ideas as ‘true stories’––true accounts of the real world and our responsibilities as humans. True for humans everywhere, and true for other creatures as well. As I consider the accelerating destruction of life on Earth, I wonder: Are we capable of becoming humans who take care of country?

Often, too, I wonder how to enliven our awareness that in the end life is not ours to make or unmake: it is not our place to ask whether it is worth the effort. The profundity and simplicity of Jessie’s caring for country is, for me, an ethical claim. The future is not a promised land waiting for us to arrive, nor does it bear down on us. The future is in the ground. It is life, and it wants to come forth and flourish. The future is creation in everyday life, and like all everyday miracles, it is as fragile as it is resilient. We are members of creature communities, and our appropriate work is to honor the bequest by taking care of it so that the future can come forth.”

––Moral Ground: Ethical Action for a Planet in Peril, “So the Future Can Come Forth from the Ground,” by Deborah Bird Rose, pg. 156-7

“It may be laid down as a general rule that if a man begins to sing, no one will take any notice of his song except his fellow human beings. This is true even if his song is surpassingly beautiful. Other men may be in raptures at his skill, but the rest of creation is, by and large, unmoved. Perhaps a cat or a dog may look at him; his horse, if it is an exceptionally intelligent beast, may pause in cropping the grass, but that is the extent of it. But when the fairy sang, the whole world listened to him. Stephen felt clouds pause in their passing; he felt sleeping hills shift and murmur; he felt cold mists dance. He understood for the first time that the world is not dumb at all, but merely waiting for someone to speak to it in a language it understands. In the fairy’s song the earth recognized the names by which it called itself.”

––Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, by Susanna Clarke, pg. 604