Overcoming Pioneer Mentality

           The heavy and dismantled feeling descended upon me yesterday while exploring the creek in Samuel P. Taylor State Park, the section that is right adjacent to the road but virtually untouched by modern-day humans.  It was a section of creek I’d been wanting to explore for a long time, knowing it must be full of magical nooks and swimming holes, only a stone’s throw away from the road where I drive my car a few times a week.  And to think that so many of us only experience that thin tunnel of road again and again, while the surrounding forest and waterway are virtually undiscovered by our senses.  Over time, the feeling of the land being pregnant with possibility overtook me and I pursued my intrigue into this uncharted section of the creek.

Perhaps I had crashed too carelessly through the willow branches; broken too many delicately woven spider webs.  I was aware that I was disturbing the peace, and I apologized, sometimes out loud and sometimes silently in my heart.  But the fact still remained that I was the bumbling human trying to hack my way through the lithe and yielding willow.  I was disturbing the peaceful branches who would otherwise spend their days like slow, patient fingers combing the current, dipping themselves into the cool water to the billowing of the gentle breeze blowing overhead. 

I knew I was disturbing the peace, but I kept on doing it, justifying it somehow by telling myself I was on an “adventure”: an explorer with a unique destiny.  And not even I believed that this was enough of an excuse to tear the tender leaves, or perhaps crush some innocent salmon eggs underfoot in the sandy creek bed.  Not even I believed the voice in my head telling me that what I was doing was alright.  And even though I took it upon myself, as a means of compensation, to pick a few pieces of plastic debris from the clumps of grasses still clinging to the high branches where they were deposited many months before by the surge of winter storms; even as I picked the colorful bits of disintegrating plastic from the willow’s finger weavings, I could not push away that sinking, icy feeling – like my heart dropping a pointy icicle into my guts – the feeling that my actions of kindness, no matter how multiple and sincere, could never rectify the senseless damage that my body had done to this land.

            Ever since that encounter with the creek and my own pioneer mentality, I have felt this cloud of annoyance, dull anger, and stubborn resistance hovering around me and permeating my every movement and thought, tainting my whole night last night and finally knocking me out like a heavy drug.  The toxic feeling did not begin to alleviate until I sat down here in my backyard and started writing about it. 

Nature recognizes real repentance in the surrender of our will; in the raw openness of our senses and the giving up of ego control, which in itself is an illusion to begin with.  What we have at times is the feeling of control, the lust for control, the comfort of thinking we’re in control, the greed of wanting more control, the martyrdom that can be twisted into control.  The humble conscientiousness that can bleed into righteousness, that can bleed into ruthless control.  While we remain isolated human individuals, this trap is always set for us – it is always tempting to place weight onto our own ego’s desires, our own aspirations, pleasures, and advancements.  When the truth is, it is ultimately the cosmic will that governs our fate – the special alignment of stars, planets, and conditions that make our existence possible; not to mention the delicate balance of heat, light, water, air, and nourishing earth that keeps our bodies alive and healthy in the first place, and in the last place can wipe us out completely if the slightest disturbance causes an imbalance in the weather field. 

The average person does not recognize or often think to ponder this basic truth; they walk around feeling in control of their own destiny.  Even if they believe in God or determinism, their behavior and the choices they make are still dependent on their ego’s desires.  And yes, I include myself in this statement as well.  Even I fall back into the habit of my own pioneer mentality.  Like all of us, I have been conditioned to think that it is good to follow my dreams, to stand up for my rights, to defend my honor, to pursue my interests.  And indeed, the consumerist machine thrives upon us believing that we are separate from one another, that we can be compared to one another, that it is possible to beat each other in the game of ‘how much do you have?’  When in reality we are all one, with each other and with the Earth.  Any gain is a gain for all.  Any loss is a loss for all.  It’s not that our own desire and aspirations are inherently bad or wrong.  The problem is where we place their ownership.  If my desires are seen as mine alone, then it’s my desires against the desires of everyone else.  But if our desires are seen as extensions of the Earth’s desires; if our bodies are felt to be extensions of the great Earth body; if our aspirations are understood to be the aspirations of the Earth’s will moving through us, only then can we be sure that our actions are serving the good of all.

If on that creek stomping expedition I had slowed down enough to listen to the voice inside my heart, urging me to take more care, to respect the willow branches, the spider webs, and the salmon eggs, perhaps I wouldn’t have left that place with that heavy, dismantled feeling that plagued me for a day after.  Perhaps that was nature’s way of helping me feel the loss that we had all sustained by my carelessness.  Perhaps if I had not blindly followed the urge inside me to push forward, but instead taken the opportunity to examine how the European blood running through my veins still moves to conquer the Native blood that whispers at the core of my heart.  Then perhaps that encounter with the creek would have been one of healing instead of destruction.  Perhaps I would have left the creek that day feeling uplifted and renewed, instead of bogged down by guilt. 

But still, it is never too late for repentance.  As I ponder it all now, I realize there is no shame in these actions if I choose to learn from them.  If I choose to let this experience refine my sensibilities, deepen my compassion, and direct my future actions, then there is no shame in these mistakes.  If this experience has taught me to quiet my ego enough so I can hear the cosmic will speaking through me, the beautiful voice that always resonates in harmony with all things, then we are one step closer to planetary healing.