Chapter 8 Respect and Gratitude from my book Changes
Photo of the primitive camp at dusk.
Chapter 8
Respect and Gratitude
Tom came onto the stage in the Taj the next morning, asking us, as he often did, “How ya doin’ gang? Did ya sleep OK?” Then he started talking to us about respect and gratitude. Respect for the plants, animals, and land of this camp, and gratitude to the Creator for this Earth Mother and the privilege of living on her.
Tom asked us if we had asked permission to use the area we camped in. Did we wait until we felt we were welcome? Did we apologize for any stakes we drove into the skin of Earth Mother, or any plants, trees, or insects we damaged in setting up our tents? He asked how we would feel if a great grizzly bear and her cubs came into our living room at home, hammering stakes into the ground through our carpeted living room floors, making themselves at home without any attention being paid to us; pounding nails into our furniture to string a clothesline on, and breaking up our dining room chairs to start a fire on our dining room floor.
I had never considered that we were being rude by assuming we had the right to do whatever we wanted in the woods, without consideration to the wildlife, plants, or earth that was already home there. I looked around at the other students to see how everyone was reacting. Mostly we all looked very sheepish. I know I certainly had not asked or apologized when I set up my tent.
Then Tom sent us out to our tent areas to talk to the plants, animals, and land. “Ask permission,” he said, “Apologize for any damage done. And promise to leave the place better than when you came. In other words, do a little caretaking in appreciation.”
We went out and did as he asked, and as I spent time talking to the area I was tented in, I was shocked and surprised at the connection I began to feel, and the personality of the place I had chosen to sleep in. I began to love the little area and feel a part of it.
Later in the day, the interns and caretakers offered tarps to anyone who was having problems with water in their tents. I asked for a tarp and some help putting it on my tent, so the caretaker Therese came with me to help place the tarp over my tent and suggested, with a smile of encouragement, that I dig a little trench around my tent to draw the water away from it.
After Therese left me I spent the next half hour carefully trenching around my tent, talking to the plants , bugs, and the earth as I dug. I realized how many roots were in my way and instead of chopping through them with the shovel, I used my hands to dig around the tree roots, leaving them intact. Then I asked the blueberry bushes around me if I could tie the tarp down on their thicker lower branches with the cordage I had. I felt love coming to me from the bushes and I wept as I used their strong little blueberry trunks to tie down my tarp. The connection I felt filled my heart.
That night after lecture, it was stormy. As I prepared to go out of the Taj and into the dark, rainy, windy night, I bundled up as I had done the night before. I trudged through the wet sand and puddles to Blueberry Trail and began the walk with my flashlight down the narrow path.
To my surprise, the path was wider; or at least it seemed wider. No blueberry bushes caught me with their skinny little twig fingers. The shadows didn’t jump and jerk and feel menacing to me as they had done the night before. The path was clear and well lit by my little flashlight. The rain was still falling, and the wind still blowing, but instead of the tall pines and short oaks threatening me with their wild waving, they seemed to be waving me in; welcoming me home.
As I snuggled into my cozy makeshift little bed, the rain sounded as it had the night before, loudly, like marbles falling. The fat raindrops from the trees loudly hitting the wet leaves on the ground still sounded like people’s feet running around and around my tent; but I felt safe, welcome, protected, even loved. I fell asleep easily.
My felted artwork “Primitive Camp at Dusk”
