Tuesday 30 June 2020

IT’S TIME FOR A NEW BEGINNING, A NEW WAY OF LIVING, TIME FOR REAL CHANGE

‘We are here to awaken from our illusion of separateness’.

Thich Nhat Hanh

The earth warms.  Days lengthen.  Leave uncurl and unfurl.  Buds burst.  Birds nest. 

 Frogs spawn.  Bees buzz.  Butterflies flutter.  Flowers bloom.  As the poet Gerald

Hopkins said: ‘Nothing is so beautiful as spring.’  Yet, spring, 2020, has arrived with a

difference... 

 

Covid-19 pandemic.  Lockdown.     Self isolation.  Self distancing.  Sirens.  Bats.  Fines. 

Key workers.  No workers.  PPE.  A& E.  BBC.  Keep Safe.  Stay home.  Protect the

NHS.  Safe Lives.  Antibodies.  No bodies.  Virtual hugs.  Nasty bugs.  Front room. 

Zoom.  Universal Credit.  Furlough.  Pangolins.  Swabs.  Temporary morgues.  NHS

heroes.  Green space.  No space.  Care home.  No home. Trauma.  Testing.  PCR.  DNA.  

Children’s rainbows.  Nightingale hospitals.  Crisis.  Queues.  Charts and updates.  

Clapping carers.  Death toll rising day by day.  Waiting for the peak.  The plateau. 

While goats roam the streets of Landudno.  Deer swim in the Bay Of Biscay. Comorants

 dive in the clear waters of Venice canals.  And whales play in the sea near Marseille.  We

are in an apocalyptic film, a surreal painting, a new reality.

 

Locked in we tune into digital platforms: live streaming, images, and video blogs to

experience the natural world in all its glory.  Why are we experiencing this spring more

vividly?  Why is it the natural world resonating with us so profoundly in this time?   

As the World Health Organisation says, walking in green spaces improves wellbeing and

helps in the treatment of mental illness.  People who walk in the natural world are less

likely to report psychological distress.  A room with a view is proven to aid recovery. 

Being in the countryside reduces blood pressure, heart rate and the production of stress

hormones, which aids concentration, lifts mood, enhances self-esteem and combats

depression.  We know all of these things.  Most of us take time out to go to parks,

gardens and/or the countryside.  The Romantic poet William Wordsworth took a daily

bathe in nature, as he called it.  Yet, urgent biophilia is something else…

 

Urgent biophilia is what is happening right now.  It’s a term coined by ecologist Keith

Tidball to express the intense need humans have to connect with the natural world

at times of trauma and crisis.  Many people report experiencing an instinctive urge to sow

seeds and tend plants;  it’s about communion, awakening, rebalancing.  Connecting

with nature is life affirming.  During the 1st World War soldiers created flower gardens in

the trenches.  It is no surprise that after Hurricane Sandy, 2012, the residents of Beach 

41st Street NY worked to restore gardens as a process of restoring themselves; plants are

 an expression of survival and rebirth. 

 

Nothing in the world is single/All things by a law divine/In one spirit meet and

 mingle/Why not I with thine’. 

Percy Shelley

 

‘The first rule of ecology: everything is connected to everything else’. 

Robert MacFarlane

 

 If Covid-19 has shown us anything, it’s shown us we’re not in control.  The planet is a  

complex, finely balanced web of interconnections.  Everything is related to everything

else, even you and me.  Nothing is separate.  Everything has its own integral part to play. 

If something is taken away everything shifts. 

 

As the UN’s environmental chief, Inger Andersen points out, to not take care of the

planet is to not take care of ourselves.  She stresses our immediate priority is to protect

people from Covi-19 and prevent its spread.  We’re all in agreement there.  But our long

term response?   She says, we must tackle habitat and biodiversity loss.  Absolutely, it’s a

subject close to my heart. 

 

When I first moved to Haslington, Cheshire, it was a biodiversity hotspot.  That changed

when the developers muscled in with their diggers and chainsaws.  Within weeks land

was gobbled up.  Trees were uprooted.  Streams damned.  Fields churned into piles of

earth.   Barns converted.  Estates built.  Habitats trashed.  Traffic roared along the new

 bypass.  Like a bad magic trick the biodiversity hotspot was (almost) gone.  Where I once

 walked over fields there were office blocks, a bank, health club, hotel and restaurant: 

 Lunch In 15 Minutes-That’s our promise

 

Wildlife has lost precious countryside it needs to live and survive.  Granted, a small

patch was reclaimed, a designated conservation space, but there are signs telling

visitors to keep to prescribed paths and to look carefully for the wildlife: oh, the irony. 

There are rustic picnic tables and benches, bird boxes and an ornamental pond.  All very

worthy, but it is a contrived environment.  Despite its attempts to be welcoming, it is a

place of rules and regulations, a place of control.  

 

 The English writer and poet, D.H. Lawrence (1885-1830) believed there is a life-flame

 wreathing through the cosmos, which renews all living things, and the purpose of life is

 to attain mystical union with the world.  When people lose their contact with the ‘eternal

 life-flame’ things go wrong he wrote in his essay The Real Thing.  Most of Lawrence’s

 books are critical of modern life and growing materialism, claiming people were

 becoming alienated from their selves and the natural world.   Nothing has changed.  So,

 now isn’t it time for a new beginning, a new way of living, time for real change? 

 

 The American author and scientist Aldo Leopold claims: ‘We can only be ethical in

 relation to something that we can feel, understand, love or otherwise have faith in’.

 This spring aren’t we proving to ourselves that we love and have faith in the natural

 world?   When all this is over, do you agree, it’s important to remember the solace nature

has given us?  It is giving me.

 

The old chestnut: there are lessons to be learned springs to mind.  What meaning and

construction can we learn from this destruction?  What needs to change?   Human beings. 

We are no more important than any other species.

 

Despite our anxiety, isn’t the land waking up in all its splendour, reminding us that the

world will carry on and we need to preserve this thing called life for generations to come? 

‘People protect what they love’, said the French conservationist, Jacques Cousteau.  Who

wouldn’t agree with that nugget of wisdom?   So, let’s not forget the love we have for the

natural world during this challenging time when the pace of our lives picks up again. 

Hopefully you’ll agree the natural world is soothing us, sustaining us, filling us with

wonder and hope.  It is here for us in our hour of need.

 

The late Polly Higgins was building on her professional experience as a barrister, in

2010, when she presented to the United Nations, her proposal for ecocide to become an

 international crime: 

‘What is required is an expansion of our collective duty of care to protect the natural

world and all life.’  All life: trees, rivers, mountains have a right to ‘exist, flourish and

 naturally evolve’. 

 Following her death, author and activist, Naomi Klein tweeted: ‘Her work will live on’. 

 And I strongly believe: ‘It’s our collective duty of care’ to see that it does.  As Michael

 McCarthy wrote in Moths, the bond we share with nature ‘is at the very heart of what it

 means to be human; that the natural world where we evolved is no mere background, but

 at the deepest psychological level it remains our home.’

 


TIME FOR CHANGE

Earth warms, days lengthen

Birds nest, frogs spawn

Bees buzz, buds burst

Flowers bloom, full moon

Butterflies flutter, people mutter

Headache

Cough

Can

Not

B-r-e-a-t-h-e

Spring 2020

Covid-19

Lockdown

Apocalyptic film

Surreal painting

New reality

Isolation, cabin fever

Long distance, no distance

Sirens, fines

PPE, A & E

BBC, Keep safe

Stay home, protect the NHS

Save lives

Key workers, no workers

Pangolins, bats

Antibodies, no bodies

Virtual hugs, nasty bugs

Front room, Zoom

Universal credit, furlough

Hospitals, morgues

Mental health matters

Trauma, crisis

Swabs, testing

PCR, DNA

Urgent biophilia

Peak, plateau

NHS heroes, clap carers

Ecocide

Green space, no space

Mansions, flats

Charts, Updates

Care home, no home

Death toll rising day by day

Bay Of Biscay, deer swim

Goats roam, far from home

whales play, Sea of Marseille

The

World

Stops.

Sabbath

Silence

Stillness

Rainbows

New beginning, New Living

Time For Change

Time to live

Wild Ways

Monday 29 June 2020

THE WILD INSIDE


I have nearly completed a novella, WILD WAYS which is about a woman, a storyteller, who had become sanitized living in the city. With her partner, Jack and their small daughter, Bel, she returns to the small, stone cottage of her dreams.  Here they live happily for three years.  She gets back in touch with her wildness within and recovers her powers of story telling which disappeared when she became over-domesticated in the city.  Here is a short extract about a night she spends with a vixen...



Something woke me in the dead of night.  I sat up.  A scent of musk: glandular, strangely sensual,

drifting through the open window.   And when I looked, she was there, standing in a pool of

moonlight.  Her amber eyes met mine awakening something inside me.



Outside, the vixen pointed her muzzle into the air.  Adrenalin flooded my body.  She spun in a circle,

her pelt catching spears of moonlight, glanced haughtily over her shoulder barking, as if to say:

‘Follow me!’

So, I did.



The morning ghosted in green as we trotted between oak trees following a track long forgotten.  A

faint line through tall grass, a desire path, another way from here to there.   A place of vibrating

energy, half-forgotten things, other-dimensional.  I stopped to quench my thirst at the stream.



Foraging for insects and earthworms, sniffing the air: bark, sap, mulch.  My nose twitched.  My ears

pricked.  The fur lifted along my spine.  As I dropped to my haunches, leapt a long leap.  A flurry of

leaf litter.  The excitement and fear a tangible taste on my tongue.  A squeal as I bit down hard on

the rabbit’s neck, twisting it this way and that, slurping hot blood.  A savage snapping.  I tore its head

clean off, cracked its skull with my molars.  Gorging richly on its brain, slashing its chest, tearing the

soft belly, spilling blubbery ropes of purple and blue, scarlet too.  I gobbled it all up, then delicately

licked myself clean.



Satiated, I curled under the roots of an oak tree, smelling acorns and leaves, the malty earth.  A

clean, cold calm penetrated my bones.  As I felt a presence far bigger than me, one which endured in

my memory.  I blinked.  The vixen on her paws, flicked her brush.   In a flash she was off.   Flickers of rust-red ignited by cloud breaks.  And I watched her, until she disappeared deep into the forest like a mystery.