Even within the cocoon of suburbia I occasionally engage nature: walking to work when the snow is too deep to drive, clearing roots, rocks and earth to construct hiking paths, chopping trees into pieces to be burned for heat, planting vegetables for summer salads, digging ditches to dry a damp basement, pushing a lawnmower, trimming back an aggressive vine. Upon each engagement this modern, suburban, male learns something of how nature works, of its brutality, its indifference, its frailty, its beauty, and its infinite connections into and through my life. The magnitude of each lesson reflects the intensity of labor. Labor invokes intention—purpose that gives meaning. Some labors struggle against nature’s currents, others float downstream, but no labor can be indifferent. It requires investment. It makes things personal.
When I look where I worked I see both nature and me. I think about the future. I evaluated both short and long term consequences. I focus on the relationship and calculate how to sustain a lasting, informed, caring partnership. If either partner fails, the project fails.
I engage nature during leisure: clinging to a raft ricocheting down river rapids, hiking century old trails, chasing fading ridgelines along the Blue Ridge Parkway, watching trees grow out the office window or African tigers mating on nature-TV. Some of these experiences engage me through the sublime, captivate me with beauty, and inspire me because of complexity. Other leisure experiences just entertain. They distract me.
I also engage nature through my wood-frame house: it provides the roof over my head and the walls that keep out rain and wind. I engage nature when I turn on my electric lights, drive my hybrid, eat dinner, wash my hands, and breathe. I often forget how engaged I am. I don’t see the links between daily activities and natural “resources” and ecosystem “services.” Food comes from supermarkets, electricity comes from wall sockets, waste drain down sinks, and resources and services get delivered because I pay with dollars. I don’t see the fertilizers, biocides, and vast monocultured acreages supporting my diet. I don’t hear the mountain tops pushed into streams. I don’t smell my sewage being burned back into the air I breathe.
Ignorance has consequences. A partnership ignored does not last long. We must be deliberate so we remain respectful. We must remain attentive so we can be nurturing. We must remain engaged so we can create a future that sustains us all.