Too often I hear deeply caring people speak of nature as though it were an entity apart from us, like a huge warm animal suffering neglect, something we must take better care of because it is so beautiful and it sustains us in so many ways. A truer reason for our caring is found in the words of John Muir, “When we try to pick out anything by itself we find it hitched to everything else in the universe.”
My favorite courses in college were comparative anatomy, plant morphology and organic chemistry. The intuitive sense I had of the universe as a child was that All is One; my sense of this reality was confirmed by these studies. I had an ethic now based on facts; the clear anatomical similarities of animals, the myriad of wondrous adaptations found in the plant kingdom, the evolution of species, and the structure and mechanisms of the elements of which all matter is composed. There is no intrinsic hierarchy among living things. In nature.
Scientific facts do not provide the solution to the problems of being human, though they might offer a way to ameliorate our conflicts. We are a fragile species and it is estimated that we have existed as Homo sapiens for a mere 300,000 years. Our capacity for cognitive executive power is relatively recent in our development and must counter the millions of years we had to rely on a reptilian brain alone for survival; a part of our brain which is quick to anger, quick to fight, and lacks the ability to empathize.
But we are also primates, extremely dependent on a social support system. Sometimes, in desperation, we find solidarity in destructive behavior or even in warfare just as others find solidarity standing together for social justice. We need, at least, the semblance of a functioning family or tribal unit in order to survive intact. We are complex animals; rational and frenzied; empathetic and cruel; fearful and courageous. In Emily Dickinson’s words, “The Brain is wider than the Sky.”
If only we had been taught Darwin in kindergarten, I often rant! And learned that there are innate inviolate relationships among all living things. That everything has its own limits as well as the unique capabilities inherent to its species. Slime molds, toads, snakes, horses, eagles, humans. Had we learned to appreciate all living things through real knowledge of them and a joyful acceptance of our connection to them, would we live on this planet as we do? If we understood how our intricate bodies worked, grasped the amazing adaptations of plants, the consistent carbon chemistry of all life, would it make a difference in our attitude toward climate change? And might we become more empathetic toward the suffering of all creatures?
We are predisposed to search for meaning. For narrative. For conversations made of words — qualities innate to the very structure of our brains. The chemistry of consciousness still remains a mystery to neuroscience but our brains can not cease to try and understand its origin. A chance mutation eventually resulted in consciousness and I wonder if it doesn’t give our species a special responsibility.
Let us lean into the intuitive wisdom of indigenous people who have lived closer to the earth for generations and therefore know better their place within it. There is a Lakota saying, translated by some as, “We are all as relatives.” Scientists of all disciplines continually substantiate this ethos as they explore everything from strands of DNA to the exploding stars. All is One.
Margot Fleck is an artist and poet living in Northfield.