Welcome to Big Old Goofy World . . . a place where I can share my thoughts, hopes, and dreams about this rock that we live on and call home.
Showing posts with label climate change. Show all posts
Showing posts with label climate change. Show all posts

Sunday, April 7, 2024

A Little Birdie Told Me

A little birdie told me . . . it’s spring.

Though Mother Nature is fighting it . . . it is spring.  The “signs” have all been there for a couple of weeks despite the alternating winter/spring weather duking it out.  Yes, it is Montana where the weather can change by the minute, but nature has been trying to tell us . . . it is spring.  We just need to listen better.

 

In his book, Voices in the Stones: Life Lessons from the Native Way, Kent Nerburn shares a story about an encounter he has with an elderly Native American man at a little cafĂ© on a reservation on a North Dakota reservation.  The two of them talked and the conversation meandered into the topic of the “old ways” of life and how they had been taken from the Native Americans by the predominant “white society”.  The man shared a story about how in the “old ways” it was understood that the spirit of life flowed through everything . . . that all things were of a kindred spirit . . . that there was a relationship between all things.  Now they were gone.

 

The story as he told it:

“Things have really changed,” he went on.  “The old ways—the way I was raised—they’re gone now.  They took them away from us.”

 

He looked away and stared into the distance.  I had touched something deep in him.

 

“My grandma,” he said, “she could talk to the animals.  She liked to hang clothes out on the line, stand out in the sun and the wind.  She used to talk to the meadowlarks.  They would sit on the fence posts, and she would sometimes laugh and say things to them.

 

“I remember one day she got angry and threw a rock at one of them.  I heard her scolding it as it flew away.  A little neighbor girl died the next day.  Grandma must not have liked what the meadowlark had to say.”

 

He took a sip of his coffee and gazed past me almost as if I wasn’t there.  “I guess we forgot their language.  Or maybe they just don’t want to talk to us now.” (Voices in the Stones: Life Lessons from the Native Way, Ken Nerburn, 2016)  

 

All creation stories are different from culture to culture.  At the same time, they all have the same theme.  As I understand it, in the beginning God created the heavens, earth, and all that inhabit it.  Upon completion God declared that it was all good.  That it was God’s creativity and breath that set it all into motion.  That creativity and breath linked it all together.  It is all the essence and presence of God. 

 

Luther Standing Bear, the great Lakota chief, said: “From . . . from the Great Spirit there came a great unifying life force that flowed in and through all things—the flowers of the plains, the blowing winds, rocks, trees, bird, animals—and was the same force that had been breathed into the first man.  Thus all things were kindred and were brought together by the same Great Mystery.”

 

I think that we have forgotten.  We are a part of creation . . . we are not the creation itself.  The world does not revolve around us, but that we are piece of the puzzle we call creation.  All of it together makes a whole and makes it holy. 

 

As I read Nerburn’s story of the old man’s grandmother, I could not help but to be jarred by his closing statement: “I guess we forgot their language.  Or maybe they just don’t want to talk to us now.”  There is no doubt in my mind that we humans are a forgetful group—history verifies that for us as we continue to make the same mistakes over and over again.  What concerns me is that “they just don’t want to talk to us now.”  To me that signals that the relationship has been broken . . . that it has become too strained to sustain . . . that we blew it.

 

I love the outdoors.  Montana was always the ultimate embodiment of the “great outdoors” for me.  It was a big part of the underlying desire to move and live in Montana . . . that and the fact that there are only about six people per square mile.  An introvert’s wildest dream!  When I am outdoors, I feel the most connected to the holy . . . to the Creator . . . to God.  I also believe that I have a relationship with the outdoors and all of nature . . . that I have something to learn, to gain, to allow myself to grow and understand about all of creation.  I believe that we humans are intimately connected to creation—to nature, and that it has something to teach us about life.  Humans are not the “end all”.  Creation was around long before we humans showed up and was going quite well without us.  I believe that this relationship is necessary if we humans are to be fully who we have been created to be.  We are called to be “one” as Creation.

 

Thus, it saddens me to see the great disconnect.  Have we forgotten the language?  Probably.  Has creation decided it no longer wants to communicate—to talk—with us?  Again, probably.

 

I am no Dr. Dolittle.  I cannot talk to the animals . . . well, partially.  I think that my dogs understand me.  We talk.  I am greeted each evening with “aroooooo” from Birdie, our Borgie (Border Collie/Corgi mix).  She understands when I tell her to get certain toys, much to the amazement of my wife.  She communicates to me when she wants to go for a walk.  She sits at my feet and stares me down.  It is a stare that tells me, “Walk me!”  Quinn, the mini-wiener dog, has conversations with me all of the time.  She is not timid in letting me know that she is ready to eat or that she wants to go out.  She barks at me until I move.  I talk to her, and she barks.  It is often an enlightening conversation for me.  There is a relationship.  One I am thankful for because my pups take me for who I am.  There is definite communication there. 

 

I guess it would be nice to be Dr. Dolittle and have the ability to speak to the animals.  But the truth is . . . the critters are always talking to us if we are listening.  As we transition from winter to spring, it is the animals that convey the message that “spring is here!”  For me, the message is delivered by the aves or birds.  When I see the first Mountain Bluebird flitting around.  When the Sandhill Cranes start showing up in the fields.  When the first Osprey is perched on its nest.  They are telling me that spring is here.  The return of the Red-winged Blackbird. There is the first skunk in the yard.  The racoons start hitting the birdfeeders.  The bears wake up and make their presence known.  All convey the message that spring is here.  They are communicating . . . are we listening?

 

The rest of nature is talking too . . . maybe a little prematurely.  But that seems to be the case each year.  The grass in the yard is greening and growing.  Flowers and herbs are sprouting up.  Some trees are even getting buds.  The bugs have started showing up and making their presence as splatters on the windshield.  And the weeds.  I have seen the tell-tale signs of my neighbor’s angst sprouting in the mud . . . dandelions.  Nature is talking . . . are we listening?

 

I’ve heard people here and there comment about the fact that it seems that spring is coming earlier each year.  Screwy weather, they say.  They are right.  It is screwy weather, but it is also a definite message being sent if we are listening.  I blame it on climate change even though such a response typically gets me labeled as a “liberal tree hugger” by everyone else.  Looking at the craziness of the last decade’s weather and its severity    across the globe . . . creation is speaking and speaking with urgency. 

 

Way back in my teen years I remember the big push for ecology and things like “Earth Day”.  I remember commercials with Iron Eyes Cody—the Sicilian actor who made his career playing a Native American—as he paddled his canoe down a polluted river and shedding a tear.  Or the commercial of the grandpa walking his grandson along a trashed beach and having the questioned posed, “Is this what we are leaving our grandchildren?”  Creation . . . nature . . . was knocking on the door attempting to get our attention about the crappy stewardship of the planet we were practicing.  Now Creation is slapping us in the face to get our attention.  But are we listening?

 

Probably not.  Even if we were, I imagine it is with acute selective hearing.   We only hear and see what is advantageous to us. 

 

You see there are two sides to the story . . . at least for those who are going to base the story on the holy writ of their Christian faith.  In the Book of Genesis there are two creation stories.  There is the calendar story of the Creator creating something and declaring it a day and that “it is good”.  In that story the emphasis is on humanity having dominion over creation.  In the second story we get a folksier tale.  It is the Adam and Eve story.  Again, the Creator creates, but this time there is a different charge to the humans . . . be good stewards of creation.  One story emphasizes dominion over creation while the other speaks of stewardship—of relating to creation and taking care of it for the benefit of all.  Ever since people have taken one side or the other with everything in-between.

 

Dominion has won out most often.  That dominion has created the mess we are living in today . . . and it is a mess.  I’m no scientist, but I know that the average temperature has gotten warmer each year.  The weather patterns have shifted.  The storms are more severe.  Humans are gobbling up more and more of the earth.  We are dumping more and more pollutants into the air, water, and soil.  It is screwing things up.  The critters have been trying to tell us.  Nature has been trying to tell us.  The Creator . . . God . . . or whatever spark of the Holy that guides your life, has been attempting to tell us.

But we don’t hear . . . or we don’t listen.

 

As the old man said, “I guess we forgot their language.  Or maybe they just don’t want to talk to us now.”  Though he was lamenting the near genocide of his culture and its ways, there is a movement of recovery of those cultures and ways.  It is coming back slowly and can succeed if the dominant culture doesn’t bring down its iron fist of dominion.  It is up to the dominant culture to decide.  There is still time.  There is still time to learn the language.  Still time to listen.  Still time to change our ways.  Still time to embrace Creation, be good stewards, and live in harmony. 

 

We begin by listening.  I know it is true because a little birdie told me.  The question is . . . are you listening?    


 

Sunday, March 17, 2024

Cheese, Please

Whining is what it is . . . whining.

Every so often a person needs to complain.  I know that I do.  Let off a little steam.  Release some pressure.  Complain.  The wife calls it “whining.”  But it works for me.  Author Franny Billingsley says, “I adore complaining—it calms the nerves.”  Franny sounds like my kind of person.

 

Probably the most common retort that people encounter with their complaining or whining is: “Do you want some cheese with that whine?”

 

Your darn tootin’ I do!  Cheese, please!

 

It might be that I have been super crazy busy at my university job working six days a week and several evenings for the past month and not having a break that has made me whiny lately.  It might be that I am getting older and crankier to the point I am embracing my inner Henry Fonda from On Golden Pond.  Twenty/twenty hindsight is much more nostalgic when life was much better than today . . . could be that sort of thinking.  Maybe it is because I see the finish line as I am nearing full retirement.  Maybe I’m tired . . . hungry.  Who knows?  All I know is that I need to vent . . . and, yes, I will take some cheese with it.

 

One of my complaints—which seems to be everyone’s complaint—it about this constant circus of politics.  Especially during a presidential election year.  I’m sure everyone is aware that it is a presidential election year . . . it is historic.  On one side there is a septuagenarian . . . on the other side is an octogenarian.  Old!  They are both old.  One has been the president or at least a clown in office depending on who you ask.  Historians have not been kind to him and nor should they be.  He is running again for the third time after losing his re-election bid to the sitting president—the octogenarian.  Their age is showing.  They have had their moments of elder-ism—forgetful, incoherency, brain farts, gaps in memory, plain old “old”.  Things that I am experiencing as I enter the “golden years”.

 

Those are our choices.  With 332 million people in our country and this is the best that the political parties can come up with.  It’s sad.  It’s embarrassing.  There are not a lot of choices.  Thankfully the septuagenarian has demonstrated over and over again what a terrible human being he is.  His terribleness is quite public and recorded for all to read and see.  It is a joke that such an individual is even being considered to lead our nation.  It is an insult to all of us as citizens of our nation . . . insult to our intelligence and morals.

 

At the same time the octogenarian is an accomplished politician.  Pretty much a “lifer” when it comes to politics.  That should be a warning sign and a clear strike against him as his past is right there for public consumption.  He’s got the experience since he’s done it for so long . . . good or bad . . . but, hey!  Surely there is some younger and fresher blood out there!  Also, his age is showing, as are all our ages.  It probably won’t get any better as time goes on.  He is a nice grandfatherly figure . . . but, really—is this the best that we can do?

 

Politics of any sort . . . suck.  Nasty business.  And this is what we have right now.  Not much of a choice.  It will come down to choosing the lesser of what many consider the “two evils”.  I’ll take grandfatherly over the one constantly being hauled before grand juries.

 

That is my political rant . . . and rant it was.  Probably didn’t make much sense, but I feel better.

 

Gas prices.  The oil companies succeeded in luring us asleep as they slowly lowered prices over the past few months.  Almost convinced us that they were “good”.  Now they are slapping us awake with the bleak reality of soaring prices at the pumps.  Some say that it is because the price of oil is up on the global scene.  Others have said that the warmer winter has seen an increase in the seasonal demand . . . that more people are driving.  Still others say it’s because the refineries are shifting from the winter blend to the summer blend . . . summer blend costs more to make, thus someone must eat the price of it all.  And there is the fact that OPEC is playing economic bully politics and holding back the supply.

 

Excuses, excuses, excuses!

 

All I know is that I’m nearing the point that I need to take out a second mortgage to be able to make my commute back and forth to work.  The savings that took months to achieve have been completely wiped out in a matter of weeks.  Do I buy into the causes suggested for this gas pump robbery?  Nope.  It is simple greed and power at play.  The companies and corporations keep getting richer while the masses feel the pinch.  That is the way of economics.  Economics is the real religion across the globe.

 

Which brings me to inflation.  The price of everything keeps going up.  A price increase in one area necessitates a price increase in another.  Tit for tat. Inflation is a human-made concept . . . a state of mind . . . a fantasy.  It makes no sense.  Technology and industrialization have made the products we buy supposedly cheaper and better.  Made it possible to save money for the expense of production, thus saving money for the consumer.  Yet, that loaf of bread bought in 1960 for 23 cents now costs $2.01 on the average in 2024.  None of us can barely afford to make a “wish sandwich”.

 

I don’t understand inflation.  All I know is that it is making life miserable and difficult.  I feel for those who have seen their lives squished and impossible by the rising cost of inflation.  I’ll blame the companies and corporations—the rich as they seem to be getting richer as inflation climbs.  Someone is profiting and it ain’t us people from the middle down.  It’s crazy.

 

Same goes for real estate.  As I near retirement the idea of moving to be closer to the grandchildren is a thought the wife and I have bounced around.  But who can afford it?  Since the pandemic real estate has become an unaffordable circus.  When the wife and I bought our house fifteen years ago, we probably paid more for it than it was worth.  At the time we could afford it.  Since then, it has tripled in value.  That’s wonderful.  Turned out to be a great investment.  The problem?  We can’t afford to purchase anything comparable . . . and trust me, it is not a mansion on Easy Street.  It is a fairly common and plain ranch house . . . very much middle class.  Housing is crazy expensive . . . unaffordable . . . and frustrating.  It would be close to financial ruin for us to move.  Inflation or greed?  I feel for those who are just starting out.  It is hard.

 

Wah!  Wah!  Wah!  I need more cheese!

 

The list could go on and on.  I’ve a few bones to pick when it comes to war.  The Ukraine . . . a world war with Russia that the world is letting little ol’ Ukraine fights for us.  It is a war that the world’s nations are happy to let them fight so we don’t have to.  War by proxy.  That is the American way, too.  History shows that as a nation there has only been approximately ten years that we have not either been at war or in a military conflict.  History will also show that we have funded lots of wars and military conflicts across the globe.  Israel’s war against Hamas—or is it the Palestinians—doesn’t seem to be much different.  We have dumped a whole bunch of moola into funding those wars that are supposedly not ours.

 

There has been a lot of destructive waste created by those two wars.  The mass destruction in material and human lives is disgraceful.  It will take generations and decades to recover and rebuild . . . if they can ever really recover from such devastation.  It is “black” mark against and on all of humanity.  Whole generations have been wiped out.  War—any war—is not good.  It goes against God’s desire and demand for love . . . to be God’s loving creation . . . God’s family.

 

Got to throw in there global warming or climate change—whatever you want to call it.  It is not a myth.  It is real.  The average temperature is rising every year and doing so quickly.  This has been one of the mildest and driest winters in Montana.  Even the old timers are getting anxious.  This is not normal.  Snow pack is at 87% when it is typically over 100% at this time of year.  Spring has sprung and it shouldn’t.  With the snow pack and moisture, we have gotten it is going to be a long summer of smoke and fires.

 

Since moving to Montana fifteen years ago, the state has moved into a growing drought.  Across the state the climate ranges from “abnormally dry” to “extreme drought”.  This winter isn’t going to improve it.  Hopefully we will get some late season blizzards and snowstorms.  Global warming and climate change are real.  It is not some fantasy of the liberals.  It is real . . . and it is scary the impact it is having.

 

At the same time, it has extended tourism in Montana.  With warmer weather the tourists have come . . . in droves.  The annual plague.  But I probably shouldn’t complain.  Tourism is big business in Montana.  Tourism provides 43,900 jobs.  Brings in 12.5 million visitors in a state that just has a little over a million inhabitants.  Those tourists spend 5.82 billion dollars while enjoying Big Sky Country.  It produces 315 million dollars in taxes for state and local governments.  Tourism is a big deal in Montana . . . but, boy, what a hassle.  Tourists . . . they are everywhere!  It has practically gotten to biblical proportions . . . like a locust plague.  Yet, they are a necessary crisis no matter how frustrating it is for us locals.

 

Whew . . . this is wearing me out.  The list could go on and on.  There’s plenty to whine about . . . to complain about.  I could rant about being privileged . . . immigration . . . other people whining . . . Republicans . . . Democrats . . . and, always, taxes.  There are gender issues.  Issues about personal freedom and the individual’s right to control their own bodies.  Shoot, I’m probably only scratching the surface, but the cheese is running out.  Whining without cheese is not the same.  It is just ungrateful belly aching.  I have had my say, and I feel better.  Much better. 

 

I have been told that I have that right.  Someone told me that it is “freedom of speech”.  Mokokoma Mokhonoana says, “Most people mostly use freedom of speech as freedom to bitch.”  Well, I have expressed my right.  At the same time, others have the freedom to not listen.  I imagine that will happen.  Yet, I feel better now that I’ve gotten it all off my chest . . . at least for a couple of months . . . after all, it is an election year.

 

In all honesty, my life is not so bad.  I have a wonderful wife who tolerates me . . . dogs that love me . . . a house over my head, food to eat, and a family that continues to amaze and grow . . . grandchildren that are a joy . . . and, I can still get out of bed on my own every morning despite all the complaining from my body.  Life is good.  Whether I believe it or not, I am blessed.  We all are.  If the truth be known, I would rather count my blessings.

 

Besides . . . there is no more cheese . . . and I feel good.