DB: Manufactured Landscapes
This weekend I spent a few hours in the car to get out on the Olympic Peninsula. I’m reading a book by David Abram called The Spell of the Sensuous, about the human need to encounter something other than humans and human made things. We left Tacoma’s manufactured landscapes in the hopes of gaining some new perspective on our lives within them.
There are some sneaky hot-springs outside of Port Angeles, “where the mountains meet the sea”. In my opinion, these are some of the most beautiful places on earth, but there was something in my way as I stepped out of the car, walked for miles and then stepped out of my clothes into the mineral rich murky shallows carved into the steep of a blue rivered ravine. I spent four hours soaking in the misty rainforest listening only to the friendly banter of the fellow adventurous souls willing to let go of the virtual world and settle into the warmth like the silt we stirred upon immersion. Still, a grief or memory of the concrete held my heart from fully “being there”.
In the opening chapters of his book Abram illustrates the role of the traditional shaman in helping the community connect and form a reciprocal relationship with the land and the creatures that dwell therein. Hunts and harvests are negotiated through the shaman who is perceived to hold communion with the spirits of the wild, and it is his duty to make sure that the community is giving back to the world from which it gains its sustenance.
It shocked me how easily I forget that I am sustained by the earth, and I question if the earth has ever truly been sustained by me. I exist in a culture of users. I’ve been bred to consume, and my contribution, if any, is time/labor/creativity to the system from which I believe all provision comes. How beautiful of a thought that the earth provides, and has provided from long before the manufactured world was even a vision sketched upon the cave wall.
Soakers come and go, and after a brief solitude we were greeted by a local couple from the midwest who were working an organic farm outside of Port Townsend. They commented on the area’s beauty and the good feeling of many local small farms, breweries, cheese makers and the like. We left our new friends to their natural bath and made our way back (now wobbly legged and ripely pruned) toward the car that made this place accessible without a 3 day journey and a pack mule.
Halfway down the trail I noticed a little side path running up the near side of a creek into the most mossy hallowed cleft of a valley I have personally encountered. The creek slowly eroding the soil and causing the nearby trees to fall in endless crosses and tangles created the most serene environment for the trickling and slow growing green things to belong. We detoured for a short trek and crouched beneath a woven cathedral of fallen old growth that had given life to such such a shockingly peaceful environment.
I now had a list going, of things I had taken from the natural world: warmth, peace, escape, fresh air, mineral egg smell. I sat quietly and attempted to think of ways things that I could give back. My praise, my care, my admiration … but how can my energy be invested into the land around me in Tacoma? As the water gurgled and bubbled and poured its way by me to feed the blue river that had carved the whole region, the block between me and the sensual world remained as unbroken as the damn the people of Port Angeles had built down river to power their machines.
In Tacoma we pull life and transport from the sound, place and peace from the peninsulas and beach. We take food and drink from the valley, beauty wood and water from the mountain. I question what we are giving back, aside from what we pour into the sound from our gutters and put into the landfill from our wastebaskets. Who the Shamans of Tacoma? Requesting that we make peace with that mother that sustains us. Amber Englund? Jamie at Thrice All American? Perhaps we would pay attention if someone could work some serious earth magic and cast us into a famine for a few seasons, ooops … did I say “great depression” out loud?
Filed under: DB
10 comments
R RR Anderson April 29, 2009
OMG! Did you make it to Forks? Do you like those twilight books? BFF!
G geargirl April 29, 2009
Yummy, thought-provoking post. Like children in awe of all they’ve been given by their parent(s), we’ll never be able to give back to the earth in equal portion to what she’s given us. But, in terms of making a difference in small but significant ways, I count: growing a garden, eating locally and organically, biking or walking instead of driving, making your dwelling energy-efficient (double-paned windows, insulation, rain barrels, fixing any dripping faucets!), turning off lights and electronic devices when not in use, replacing chemical cleaners with natural cleaners (vinegar, soda, hydrogen peroxide), recycling, using a push mower, BYOB to the market, etc. I know, they’re all super-small steps that don’t seem like much. But, multiplied by thousands, millions, the impact is huge.
D dolly varden April 30, 2009
Good post. The dam on the Elwha you mention (actually two dams) will be coming down in a year or two, allowing for the restoration of the giant chinook salmon that used to swim into the heart of the Olympics. Long live unmanufactured landscapes!
L Liam April 30, 2009
BTW – it is “dam” and not “damn” unless you mean “the damn dam should come down!”
I was raised in the upper house just above the “dam”…my Dad was the operator. It was over whelming in its beauty even for a little kid who appreciated little of the natural world at that point in life. If you can go to the lake (Lake Mills) or to the hot springs (the Olympic Hot Springs) in July or August in the evening…the smell and feeling is like nothing else on earth. The hot springs where you soaked used to be one of the most popular resorts in the state. My Mom and Dad honeymooned there in 1944 just before my Dad went off to Iwo Jima…in fact I might have been “made” at the Olympic Hot Springs…good chance!
T Thorax O'Tool April 30, 2009
Did you see any sasquatch?
But seriously for a moment, I think these days we’re actually reaching a tipping point where people are actually starting to figure this out. Perhaps there is still a chance that my future children won’t have to go to Montana just to see a real forest.
M Marguerite May 1, 2009
Hey DB, just got back from the Penninsula myself! I totes went to Forks and it was awesome. So there, RR. ;)
W wes May 1, 2009
nice!
the good news is the next ice age will take care of everything we’ve done…
until then my motto is: you’re either part of the problem or part of the solution. most importantly think about your actions and how they effect our community and environment. although i wish it so, we’ll probably never return to a foraging lifestyle. but there is value in remembering who we are as humans and where we came from. the earth is and has always been our only home. and if we remember that it’s a limited resource and begin to treat it as such, maybe we can find our way forward to some kind of balance.
…in the meantime say hi to someone you’ve never met, plant a tree or pick up some trash while walking in the park.
it’s the simple changes that make the biggest difference.
some simple “native american math:” if you have two apples in your bag how many apples do you have? one for me and one for you.
S Sandy May 2, 2009
I have never met a shaman (ie:politician) I could trust.
@2geargirl, yes. Law of the Seed: Sow sensible stewardship, reap healthier planet.
@7wes: that “native american math” = coolness.
J Joeski May 3, 2009
I still can’t figure out why we are paving over our rich, rain soaked soil in western WA to build sprawl and irrigating millions of gallons of water into arid Eastern WA to grow crops. It’s just bad engineering.
Anyway- It’s nice to go to the Penninsula and imagine what much of our state looked like at one point.
T Thorax O'Tool May 4, 2009
“I still can’t figure out why we are paving over our rich, rain soaked soil in western WA to build sprawl and irrigating millions of gallons of water into arid Eastern WA to grow crops“
I know the answer!