trees and forests Archives - Macska Moksha Press

Coming Atrocities

February 5, 2020 by Kollibri terre Sonnenblume

Clear-cut in Humboldt County, 2016, making way for Cannabis cultivation

My perspectives on culture, politics and contemporary life in general have been profoundly informed by the time I’ve spent in rural areas, outside of cities, which has been most of the last decade. I have been in forests and deserts, grasslands and wetlands, mountains and coastal areas. And lots and lots of agricultural zones. One thing has struck me everywhere: When it comes to environmental destruction, most city people have no idea how bad it is. It’s not their fault; they just don’t get out there, and the media doesn’t report it. But the ignorance—however unintentional—has consequences.

We All Need to Be Tree Huggers Now

January 14, 2020 by Kollibri terre Sonnenblume

The Author in the Oregon Cascades (Photo by N.Hill)

Nearly everything about contemporary human life needs to change if we are to seriously address the multiple environmental crises that are facing the planet, but today I will focus on just one topic: trees.

Trees are amazing creatures.

They are found throughout the world, in a wide range of habitats, from elevations below sea level up to alpine; in wetlands and deserts; standing solo or closely communed. The “timber line” is a clear mark on any mountain; above it, needle-bearing perennials give way to lichen-speckled stone that sleeps under snow or basks in the sun, and is softened ephemerally by blossoming annuals.

Mangroves mark coast lines, Junipers rocky ridges, Cottonwoods prairie cricks, Aspens storm-wracked heights and Pines rain-shadow slopes.

Juniper tree in Klamath County, CA (Photo by the author)

From the equator to the tundra, forests thrive thickly, teeming with life micro and macro, nourishing and being nourished by those who gather on their branches, in their shade and among their roots. A pulse of life runs through the whole system, in bark, flicking tails and toadstool stems.

Trees pull water from deepest root tip to highest twig, and transpire it into the sky. They convert sunlight into sugar. They are constantly communicating with each other, with fungus, with insects, and so on and on.

Forgiving Debt to Invest in Environmental Healing

June 5, 2019 by Kollibri terre Sonnenblume

Fir seedling, in author’s hand [photo by author]

“I want you to act as if the house is on fire. Because it is.” —Greta Thunberg

The US economy is awash in debt.

As of the fourth quarter of 2018, household debt in the US totaled $13.54 trillion. The largest portion of this is mortgage debt, which totalled $9.12 trillion. [source]
As of March 2019, total credit card debt is $1.057 trillion, which is an average of $8,286 per household. The average debt per card-holding adult is $5,839. Much of it is incurred to pay healthcare costs. [source]
As of February 2019, student loan debt is $1.56 trillion. This is held by 44.7 million people, with an average debt of $29,800 and average monthly payment of $393. $101 billion of it is in default. [source]
In the first quarter of 2019, auto loans totaled $1.28 trillion. About 6.5% of these loans were 90 days or more delinquent in February of this year. That’s around 7 million people. [source]

This explosion in personal debt is not normal or healthy and is hobbling an increasing number of people. A state of de facto peonage is emerging. The levels of inequality in the US today are literally medieval (though peasants had it better when it came to days off: “Altogether there were about 80 days of complete rest with over 70 partial holidays, that is, about three months of rest spread over the year” [source]).

More and more people are struggling financially. According to National Payroll Week’s 2018 “Getting Paid in America” survey, 38% of respondents would find it “very difficult” to “meet [their] current financial obligations if [their] next paycheck were delayed for a week” and 31% would find it “somewhat difficult.” Those who answered “not very” or “not at all” difficult totaled 28 1/2% together. If this situation is not yet “dire,” it sure is headed in that direction.

When securing necessities becomes so arduous, then stress, anger and depression result, and from these, conflict, violence and self-harm.

Just at a time when we need to come together and work collectively for change, more and more of us are distracted by mere survival and, failing at even that, are sliding into addiction, disease and dysfunction. At some point, society reaches a breaking point, and under such circumstances is unlikely to instantly evolve into, say, an enlightened socialist utopia. Not without first passing through a brutal period of ramped-up state authoritarianism, anyway, and I, for one, ain’t gonna wish for that.

The pressure needs to be released. Space must be made for something new. One thing we have to do is to forgive all the debts.
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#WeedsArePeopleToo: Springtime reflections on farming & its damages

May 3, 2019 by Kollibri terre Sonnenblume

Dandelions (Taraxacum officinale)

I woke the other morning to the staccato sound of a Woodpecker pecking. He (I am guessing, based on appearance) was tap-tap-tapping on a dead branch on a nearby Oak. The rhythmic noise was not disturbing, even first thing upon waking, because I had been observing and appreciating this bird and his habits for the last few days on this particular tree. But the vibration also brought me sadness, as I knew the tree was not much longer for the world, and was in fact scheduled to be cut down that very day. Why? Such is agriculture. Read on…
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On the killing of an Ash tree in Portland

December 11, 2018 by Kollibri terre Sonnenblume

“I hate this fucking culture.”
–Derrick Jensen (on numerous occasions)

The big news in an individual’s life is rarely big news in the world. Yet, the microscopic and the macroscopic are present in each other; the characteristics of a culture at a given moment are played out in the lives of its citizens, in everyday events (and non-events) and vice versa. Our particular current cultural moment in the USA is marked by brutality, malice and insensitivity. So each of us will find ourselves face to face with these things every day (and sometimes in the mirror). Some days will stand out more than others, naturally, and I had one of those this past Monday, when a particular Ash tree was killed in Portland.

I knew they were cutting down the Ash tree a few days ahead of time, so I arranged my schedule so I would be around for the event.

First, because the tree stood in the middle of a garden that Clarabelle and I had planted and I wanted to monitor the crew to prevent too much collateral damage.

Secondly, I wanted “bear witness,” as they say. On this topic, a friend on social media said: “Bearing witness to the heart-wrenching experience(s) is, and will be, some muscle we’ll all be facing and needing.” That’s for sure. And that’s the experience I had.

Partisan Fiddling while the Planet Burns

February 27, 2018 by Kollibri terre Sonnenblume

Today I write from Mendocino County, CA – 120 miles north of the Bay Area, on the edge of the “Lost Coast,” and in the circulation zones of both the Anderson Valley Advertiser (“Fanning the flames of discontent”) and the Green Fuse – where the effects of a freakish “split polar vortex” are impossible to ignore. This weather anomaly delivered a biting cold wind that has dug in with icy claws and is hanging on persistently. Snow is on the way.

It’s not Minnesota cold (where I spent seven winters) and I’m certainly grateful for that. So, though nightly lows have dipped below freezing, the lettuce that overwintered in the garden has survived, and the kale and carrots have been deliciously sweetened. (If you’ve never tasted winter-harvested kale or carrots, then you’ve never tasted kale or carrots, as far as I’m concerned.)

Though on the chillier end, these temps are not out of the historic range for this area at this time of year. What’s jarring about them is that they came right on the heels of a warmer-than-usual mid-winter thaw. The sun heated the oak-dotted hills to 75 degrees for a week, coaxed out flushes of wildflowers on the slopes, induced the mustard greens to bolt, and hatched clouds of moths. For a few sultry, open-windowed nights, the spiders in the cabin captured these moths by the dozens and wrapped them up tight for later. Some are still hanging high on the walls like ill-fated campers in mummy-style sleeping bags (or dwarves from tree branches).

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