I think a lot about community. Particularly as the world is literally on fire from individual greed and carelessness. By comparison, my thoughts often circle back to the Sixties, when I was growing my hair and growing my appreciation for the acceptance, tolerance and compassion modeled by those encouraging harmony.

I could quote you Beatles lyrics (“I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together”), I could tell you about the Diggers (“No, YOU’RE in charge”), or the Hog Farm (“What we have in mind is breakfast in bed for 400,000”), but you had to be there. Some of us at UConn and shortly afterward became a community, albeit a casual one, for a time. We gave it a shot.

Yesterday, loitering around on the river on a misty morning, I admired trout leisurely sipping something on the still surface. Further observation disclosed the tiniest black mayflies as they dropped from their dancing disco ball in the sky. An eagle and then an osprey flew by me, hunting the finned hunters. Cedar waxwings and tree swallows hunted the insects on the wing. I was watching a biotic community, even if (or because) they eat each other. Indigenous peoples always understood that they are part of such collectives, practically and spiritually.

 You are too, reader – you’re the steward of some increasingly rare real estate worth safeguarding. It’s in your head. Along with me, you’re the co-owner of an island of environmental awareness within your mind and heart. E.O. Wilson called our inclination to associate ourselves with nature Biophilia, in his book of that name. Be stalwart. Our archipelago is surrounded by an insatiable ocean of greed and speed.  

At Joshua’s Trust we don’t merely conserve our tiny part of the planet; we sustain each other as well. We co-protect each of our inner selves and our sense of belonging to Earth. We exchange positive energy, recycle it, use it to grow and to act as a dynamic organization/organism. Metabolize. Whether you call it neurobiochemical or just teamwork, it keeps us humming, perhaps because oxytocin extends our connectivity past humanity to nature itself. Biophiliacs all. We’re a HUMAN conservation area. 

And this in spite of our quarrels and struggles (even a church congregation disagrees regularly). As do we, even though we sing in the same choir. We’re part of an island chain, too, one among thousands of groups that make up the body of people who care about Earth. You, all of you – you’re atolls here in my ragged ecology analogy.

Individuality is a human characteristic. Oft forgotten, companionship is too. How do we expand the trust and harmony of a small like-minded fellowship into a worldwide commonwealth, as Earth itself is the target of plunderers? Biophilia is apparently not genetic, not innate, and can easily become weakened through dependence on technology, city life, and lack of teaching. Half of earth’s population are now city dwellers. Yet appreciation of nature is still a human attribute.

Later in the afternoon at home, I glanced out of the window and was surprised to see a volcano of flying ants erupting from their nest in the grass, into the sky, fifty at a time, continuously for an hour. This time of year, a humid day will precipitate such a mating swarm. Wow, awe of ants. When evening came, I stepped outside. The slight chill signaled that summer was coming to an end. Under a bright moon I listened to crickets and katydids fiddling as bats darted through the dusk above red oaks, which were busily releasing their first acorns of the fall. I saluted them all as my kinfolk. They belong to the interdependent community of earthlings, as do you and I. “We are holy creatures living among other holy creatures in a world that is holy”, shared the late Wendell Berry.

Does our ego-born desire for extra treats, along with our built-in aggression toward “others”, constitute a fatal flaw? We may find out soon. I wonder if every creature that gains intelligence and self-knowledge falls prey to similar temptations. We now know that apes and crows can be murderers. What about Aliens, the ones we search for but never hear from? Were they self-destructive too, failing to leap the same hurdles we are now running toward at full speed? Or did they realize that reaching for the stars would cost more of their ecosystems than they were willing to spend? There is a balance to find. There are things not to do. We need to learn to see each other, learn to notice, recognize, appreciate, VALUE our shared world.

As far as my now antique UConn coterie is concerned, you might say we’re just a bunch of old friends. In fact, although our journeys separate us, and some are no longer alive, we are still a fellowship. We get together with acceptance, tolerance and compassion (plus music and joy) whenever we can. I’m a conservation steward there too. And what abides, like a warm ocean breeze carrying the seeds of life from one islet to another, is still the hope that you can make this work if you want to. Our community is still growing. Now it includes you too, reader.

George Jacobi

Cancel reply