The Richness of Life

"The lover of nature is he whose inward and outward senses are still truly adjusted to each other; who has retained the spirit of infancy even into the era of manhood.  His intercourse with heaven and earth, becomes part of his daily food."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

After re-reading this entry, I feel obligated to forewarn: it gets happier as you read on.  

Uniformity, homogeneity, and hyper-consumerism have swallowed modernity.  We fail to even see the natural world in the midst of human-driven conformity; we see it only in terms how we can modify it to suit our needs. It’s interesting that we struggle as a species to work together anymore, but we successfully collaborate to annihilate the planet.  We have truly become self-destructive.

I think Rob Jackson, author of The Earth Remains Forever, uses a double-entendre in the title of his second chapter, “The Richness of Life,” that clearly illustrates our skewed priorities. In this chapter title, Jackson uses the word “richness” not only to highlight the value of biodiversity (which is, essentially, the theme of this chapter), but also to suggest the absurd dichotomy of human desire: instead of valuing richness of life – as in biodiversity, and the celebration of all biotic organisms – we often value richness only in terms of monetary success, or in terms of superficial gain.  Thus, he implicitly scorns us right from the start.  Jackson procedes to make a case for biodiversity in this second chapter.  He answers the question, how are we currently treating the diverse species that populate the earth? And why should we care?  Unfortunately, we fail to preserve diverse species because we deteriorate the planet’s ecosystems – no surprise there.  But if it’s no surprise by now, then why don’t we care?  In our apathy, we will perish.  Perhaps we already have.  We must discover the interrelatedness of all life and start preserving with our hearts instead of wasting with – or without, I suppose – our minds.  

Our current lack of biodiversity reflects our lack of social, economic, and linguistic diversity.  Jackson writes, “The world is becoming an increasingly homogenous place” (34).  To capitalize on our constant drive toward “sameness,” consider the American fast food industry.  The key word behind the creation of the fast food industry is “uniformity.”  Almost every aspect of American life has now been franchised or chained, a trend which more or less began with the fast food industry.  Fast food is a culture for Americans – one whose fundamental appeal is cheapness and convenience.  

We need not argue about the dangers of homogeneity if we simply recall the Irish potato famine, a horrible fungus-induced major crop devastation that destroyed over a million people in Ireland in the nineteenth-century.  Abundant, diverse life must exist.  If not because all biotic organisms serve a purpose and should be regarded as uniquely beautiful and sacred, then because we indubitably require most organisms to survive.  Jackson argues, “Plants, animals, and microbes are immensely useful to us – we are here because they are.  They provide the oxygen that we breathe and the food that we eat. They clothe us and shade us” (54). 

Moreover, these organisms help us discover medicines and other innovations which we would be at great “pains” to live without, like Aspirin and Penicillin.  Aside from valuing biodiversity from a utilitarian perspective, however (and I do realize this may be approaching an area of discomfort or disagreement for some readers), I'd like to make an ethical argument for biodiversity.  Why do we allow our intellect and ingenuity justify our constant subjugation of other creatures on Earth? Why are we the “chosen” ones?  If our intellects and our ability to plan and design projects enable us to do anything better than other species, it should enable us to better preserve the natural world, rather than to do more damage to it than is necessary.  If we cannot concede that the life of every creature inhabiting the Earth is just as important as a human life, we must at least acknowledge the sacrosanctity – the sacredness – of each living organism.  All species have value, else they should not have been created in the first place.  We cannot consider ourselves superior to the natural world.  We are not separate from nature; we must allow it to flow, unimpeded, through our hearts. 

To solve the issue of biotic homogeneity or scarce diversity, we should learn to use our resources sustainably and protect the ecosystem that species inhabit, rather than trying to save one particular species from going extinct. If we were to zoom in to what this may look like on a personal level, preserving ecosystems could just mean living as if we already have everything we need.   It could mean taking only what we need from nature and leaving the rest alone.  It could mean living simply.  

I recently read a tremendous article about a community who was fed up with the abuse that nature must perpetually endure with silent agony. “Miracle at Adobe Creek” is an inspiring tale about a teacher who, with his students, innovates a practical solution for the devastating disappearance of certain aquatic species in their area.  Littered and dying, a trout stream near their school was a casualty of modern life, so Tom Fuller and his students decide to resurrect it.  They make it an on-going project; Fuller turns it into a learning experience.  Furrer claims he remembers a time when the stream was beautiful and springing with life.  Now, he says humans have sucked the life out of the river in order to live the way they want to live.  However, instead of allowing the hopelessness to continue, he encourages his students to come together to take practical action and actually heal something. This is an excellent example of one community who took initiative to reconstruct an ecosystem that had deteriorated as a result of human action. We can all, at the very minimum, aim to protect and preserve our immediate environments.  

Let us launch away from “sameness.”  Can we look inside of ourselves, rediscover who we are, and ask ourselves why we make everything else in our lives a priority except the only thing that really matters – nurturing nature so that we can, in turn, be nurtured by her?  Let us remove the chains we’ve created for ourselves within society, let us break free and reconnect with the natural world.  Let us live simply, love deeply, and seek peace.  

Let us experience the true, unadulterated, “richness” of life.  

Electric Faith in an English Classroom

"Peace, reassurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek, 

I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin;

I talk of love – a scholar's parrot may talk greek – 

But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin."

- C.S. Lewis facing himself, addressing his own depravity

WARNING:  This entry is heavily spiritual because I was asked to write a story of how I came to faith.  Entries are normally fairly secular.  

ACTUAL PHOTO OF OUR ENGLISH CLASS, DOING OUR "LIVE WITH FLAIR" SIGN.

 DR. H IS WOMAN IN BLUE ON RIGHT.  I AM IN CENTER DRESSED IN BLACK

– Maybe she’s on drugs. 

– Maybe she had a near-death experience?

– Maybe she’s just figured it out.  Maybe she knows how to live.  

It takes a lot to stall a socially-eager college sophomore from checking his or her cellular device immediately after class ends.  One day, however, our usual post-lecture routines – pencils down, coats on, check phone messages – are mystically interrupted by our reactions to another brilliant lecture taught by the famous, oh-so-ebullient Dr. Heather Holleman.

Dr. H remains at the front of the room (if setting or place could choose a mate, this particular setting would desire Heather Holleman most ardently) chatting with students about their papers while the rest of us slowly exit the classroom, digesting the day’s lesson and wondering whether we could get our hands on whatever Dr. H must eat for breakfast every day (in hopes that we could harness even 1/10th the amount of energy that she does).  

We left English class almost every day asking ourselves the same questions posed above, because we all worshipped Dr. H.  Here’s part of why Dr. H dazzled and delighted our class each day:

Professor Holleman encouraged our writing class to arrange the desks in a circle in order to facilitate discussion, embrace one another as equals, and eliminate the standard authority-centered classroom structure common to most educational programs (the almighty teacher at the front of the room, all desks facing her Highness and bolted to the floor).  She glorified each individual for their unique gifts and interest.  She began every lesson with a name-game in order to build community within her classroom.  Students were encouraged to think freely, to participate in discussions, and, most importantly, to celebrate who they are. 

Not knowing God can be a funny thing.  Probably because when I didn’t believe – when I couldn’t get myself to believe – I still felt so many deep, disturbing emotions.  Like guilt. And shame.  These are fascinating feelings when you think about it, and sometimes I wonder how they could exist independently of a relationship with God. And I always felt a hunger for spirituality – a sort of pull I couldn’t reasonably ignore.  God patiently chased me for so many years, but I only ever wanted to believe.  

Though it’s hard to describe, God had a presence in that English classroom.  Later I found out that Dr. H had blessed each seat before class, but it was more than her thoughtful prayers that jostled my fellow students and I as we entered the room each day.  There was a constant energy – a radiating glow – filling every square centimeter of that small, dinky little room in Willard.  We connected with one another, we loved each other, and we learned.  God’s loving palm gently caressed her students during class as it bridged the space between Dr. H’s sunny countenance and our blessed seats.    

As the semester concluded, we all were glum to part.  The rarity of developing such close relationships between classmates and teacher in a university classroom is very unfortunate, but we acknowledged this sad reality as we cherished our last few classes together.  

Though getting to know Jesus and accepting Him as my savior was a gradual, lengthy process, I believe God used Dr. H to light the fire I needed to begin walking in my faith.  I discovered, by developing an intimate relationship with Dr. H shortly after class had finished, that there really was no mystery behind her compassionate teaching and sunny demeanor: the secret was her relationship with God.  To be honest, I thought that if becoming a Christian meant nothing more than living like Dr. H did – living with joy and heart, and with Christian compassion, then that would be enough to convert me. I soon found out that it meant so much more, however.   

This thing with me and God is good now.  We got off to a rocky start, because I treated Jesus like a Sodoku puzzle.  Believing in God, I thought at first, felt a little bit like believing in an imaginary friend, and my family still sees it that way.  I wanted reason and logic to back me up; I had a Cartesian desire to prove Jesus was my savior with absolute certainty.   But once I abandoned my pride, once I acknowledged that I really need something so much bigger than this world to depend on, and once I stopped trying to solve the puzzle of God, I was free to believe. This is not to say that I chose Christianity against my reason, and it is not to suggest that I did so irrationally; on the contrary, I found that it would be irrational to defy Christianity after discovering so much evidence for it throughout my research.  I would even argue that someone would need to exercise more faith in order to be an atheist than a Christian.  

So God and I have really bonded lately.  And what do I find?  Joy.  I find joy in the mundane, in the exhaustion, in the excitement of every day life.  I am able to love others unconditionally in Christ’s name and to build community through Christ.  I’ve really been working to deaden myself and become alive in Christ – because I feel that many of our world’s problems are a result of self-absorption.  I still have my doubts, but I want to believe fully, and I still find myself not wanting to obey God in certain ways – so I just pray. I pray because I want to want these things.  And God answers – he really does. 

Leading by example, celebrating others, and shining a light into seemingly mundane situations can bring others to God.  Evangelism doesn’t have to mean walking up to strangers and sharing your spiritual beliefs with them (not that this is wrong).  It can mean allowing God’s grace to overwhelm you so that you become someone whom others admire or wish to emulate.  Passion and energy are absolutely contagious.  If someone bubbles with joy, or appears overwhelmingly passionate about something, others want a taste of it too.  

If God was able to work in our little classroom on the third floor of the Willard building, God can “work” in any professional setting.

Maybe she has figured it out.  Maybe she knows how to live because the Holy Spirit dances within her.  It sparks from within like electricity, lighting all encroaching darkness.  Maybe she’ll help others figure it out too.  If God has anymore say in it, she surely will.  

Oh, and Dr. H is definitely not on drugs.