Nature speaks

As I write this, it is quiet again. Only a few days ago, I was listening to the howling wind and worrying about the trees in my garden that seemed destined to fall. It turns out I was one of the lucky few. Save for a few obstructions on some parts of the road around us, everything was almost back to normal the next day. The garden was a mess. I lost a few trees. Part of my fence broke but it can be fixed. My family is safe.

It was only when I ventured out of the house on Friday that the full picture dawned on me. My belly ached at the sight of so many trees uprooted and sacrificed; their leaves still green. It was surreal seeing all the verdant debris – foliage alive only hours ago – now scattered everywhere. But there was also the heartwarming sight of everyone outside cleaning, sweeping and tidying up with the old, reliable tools: walis, itak, mop, basahan. My children were out there as well, making a contest of whose pile of leaves was taller. Indeed, everyone was busy, working with their hands and bodies – without their usual power tools – focused on the task ahead. But what is the true task ahead? Something told me nature had just left us a profound clue.

You see an uprooted tree lying on the pavement and realize how little earth we gave it to begin with. Its roots could not go deeply enough into the earth. We did not give it space because we wanted just so many trees over a stretch of this much road, perhaps to shade the entrance of our sidewalk cafe. We did not really think of the tree. When we bathe or do our chores, it is the same. How much water do we waste in the day? Do we make an effort to use just what we need? How conscientious are we about our energy consumption? I had to tell my help to make sure we used only what was absolutely needed because we were running on generator power during the storm. All they seemed to know was that things were up and running, so they went about as if nothing had changed. I had to remind them we had to use these resources responsibly. Sometimes it is better to suffer, to come to a full appreciation of what we have.

At our Michaelmas Festival (a festival of soul and spirit courage in honor of the Archangel Michael) two days later, a group of us who bravely attended the no-electricity-no-water-but-lots-of-hope-and-determination event, agreed that the storm was the earth waking us up from our inner sloth, uprooting our trees, hurling our ugly billboards into oblivion, because we were taking our sweet time doing the inner work that will turn our lives and our country around. A friend, in whose building we celebrated the festival, said the storm had strengthened him. His building was badly hit but he decided to let the storm come through. He did not struggle to shut it out. The glass panes that broke were the ones he could not open. The space, though a little battle-weary, felt lighter and somehow cleansed. Like him, we need to let nature’s messages come barreling through.

The storm blew us out of the pressure cooker we had created. We have all been simmering in our own apathy and moral laziness for far too long. Mother Nature decided it was time for another push. I am sure this is only the beginning. Many of us have been without the usual basic necessities: electricity and water. We are all dealing with repairs on one level or another. Others have lost husbands, wives and children. When we experience loss of this magnitude, we cannot remain untouched. We cannot ignore the deep questions nature asks us.

Without the usual comforts, we learn to focus on the essential. That is a lesson we must wake up to, not just on the physical level, but in the deepest possible sense. What in my life is essential and have I been awake to it? Have I lived in full recognition of and respect for the essential, at least striving to cast aside excess and frivolity?

Though it was painful to see the destruction, some of it was welcome. It was great to be on the relatively billboard-free road. I am tired of being sold one thing or another, especially when I know just what I need. Well, nature took care of that and we had to lose lives because of it. I am waiting to see if this message is taken to heart by the people who insist on polluting our already compromised skyline.

Our outer abodes are well on the way to being made whole and serviceable again, but the real work of living consciously remains. Someone recently said, "We do not learn from experience, but from reflecting on experience." It is time to ask: What is my relationship with nature? How active am I in preserving and respecting it? What is my relationship to society? How am I creating change there? Or am I just going to check into a hotel and let this big shakeup slide without looking at the things I ought to change in my life?

Last week, nature spoke. She wept. What will it take for us to listen?

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