Maybe the Way Back Is In
That’s the thought I woke up with
The birdsong. The hum of bees. The wind in the trees. These are the early morning whispers, the clue to finding my way.
I’ve always loved being up early, before everyone else. A delicious time, when I’m at peace and listening. The hummingbird is close by, as are the bees. Robins, western tanagers, chickadees, towhees, flickers, woodpeckers, wrens — my companions. Soon the raven will join in.
What a luxury, to sit on the deck with my coffee and have a pen in hand, and write. The scent of trees — cedar, Douglas fir, arbutus, roses, hydrangea, the last of the lilacs. This new house is offering me a way to return to myself. This me, pen in hand, is the real me.
I’ve been lost for a while now. There was always time before to be present, to take time to be in awareness, to feel and see and hear the natural world I’m part of. There were moments like this at the farm, but mostly it was full of overwhelm. I’m not a farmer — I’m an artist, and my work unfolds in projects.
The farm was a ten-year environmental art project. If I hadn’t been in the car accident, stalled for years by a concussion, things would have unfolded differently, maybe the eco teaching center I dreamed of would have continued to unfold at the farm. But the reality is now.
As I listen to the morning symphony of the waking world, I’m reminded: this is what is real. As the sun sends a swath of golden light across the distant valley that holds the farm and its new family. The voices of my former plant family are becoming fainter.
In my grief at leaving the land I loved, I became lost trying to find my way forward by immersing myself in the distraction of the possibilities of the online scroll — the endless courses and promises of a new, future you. I’m exhausted by it all.
My whole being is tethered to the natural world—and yet, I’m a “tech girl.” A foot in both worlds. I love tech and the wonder of it. Ai, a whole new opportunity to — what? Delve into a new mystery?
A reader messaged me after reading my post What Grows From Here—and Whose Voice Was That Anyway? and asked me if I was aware of the environmental impact of Ai. I wasn’t, but I’m increasingly alarmed at the dark side of Ai — the thirst it has for gobbling up the real world. The endless quest for more water, more arable land, more of our attention. We are mesmerized by a machine that steals our attention with the promise of what? Omniscience? The illusion of holding all the world’s knowledge at a keystroke? The illusion of power? The promise of ever increasingly fast workflows, which put real people out of work.
I’ve begun to wonder what is the cost of my own use of Ai.
How many drops of rain — rain that has travelled around the world for millennia — does my question consume? How many future bird songs will it cost? How do I participate in a way that feels aligned? How do I have a website, a Substack, a life rooted in tech and Ai — and be okay with the cost of it all. Does the cost outweigh the message?
As an environmental artist who has always used tech in my work to circle back and connect to nature — who used to teach new media — how do I bridge this new Ai reality we are creating, when the machine we are building is consuming our natural world? We are like the snake eating its own tail, blinded by our hunger for the new, for distraction from what is truly real and in front of us in the physical world. We are mesmerized.
I don’t think becoming a luddite is the answer, the new Ai world would leave us as casualties and the mainstream world would become increasingly difficult to navigate. I wonder about the seniors who don’t have cell phones, or computers or internet. How are they coping in a world where they can no longer call their bank to speak to a real person? Where they can’t access services without two factor authentication sent by text. How are they feeling?
And the pen brings me back to myself, to the most important question: What is my truth?
What is your truth?
What are you okay with?
As I sat with this post I shuffled the Eco Heart Oracle deck asking if a message wanted to come through—Butterfly came flying out of the deck.
Butterfly: Metamorphosis
The oracle is reminding you that if you feel discouraged for not moving forward fast enough, remember that your heart is like the butterfly waiting to land and find its light and freedom. The journey may seem long but trust that you will reach a point of rest that will bring forth the beauty of your soul and your soul purpose.
The Eco Heart Oracle is my own deck with messages from 48 flowers from nature, find it here.