Walking at the head of a protest march in the Styx Valley of Giant Trees this past Sunday with other invited speakers was an interesting position for me to be in. The view ahead was a muddy logging road empty of people except for the television and newspaper crews running around searching for the next best vantage point from which to photograph.
If I had chosen to just stay focused (and smiling) on what lay ahead, I would have missed out on the overpowering great mass of hope and exuberance following behind. Turning around and seeing this line of people stretching back a half mile and still coming, was overwhelming. Turning around and listening to this 5000 strong joyful chorus of civil disobedience was unbelievably empowering.
My heart swelled bigger and bigger. I felt proud, in the best sense of the word, to be able to be a part of this very visible protest against government corruption. I can’t begin to tell you how powerful and electric the collective energy was between all of us and the trees. Pure joy and hope boomed aloud.
Later, I stood on a makeshift podium built on top of a hugh twelve foot diameter tree stump around 16 feet above the crowd. When I first took hold of the microphone to address the massed people below, I was stunned into a temporary silence defined by humility, yet tempered with a truly deep love for what I was witnessing.
The prepared speech stayed folded in my jacket pocket; the first words that I spoke were: “I feel like an angel”. And indeed I was. Not of my own making, but because of the intensity of the crowd’s focused love on me and the tree’s focused love on me. It was palpable. And I glowed.
What I said after this I am not sure, but it was along the lines of the following:
“I am a sculptor who uses wood, but I clearly understand that there will never be a work of art as beautiful as a standing tree. I can, however, when using wood, do so with reverence and respect and try to create something that speaks of the beauty, sacredness and necessity of our shared earth.”
Likewise, although I am here speaking, I understand that there is no one person who will ever be as eloquent nor deeply informed as the collective voice of the people and trees surrounding me. I can, however, offer my little story to add to this great gathering of stories.
The trees need us as we need the trees. In this reciprocal relationship we bless each other. In this greatest of cathedrals, we are in the presence of the ancestors; we are all sacred and divine. And we need to protect these trees, not only for the trees sake, but for our own soul’s sake.”
I went on for another minute or so talking about the need of being an “unrepentant sinner” in the name of protest; aiming for peace through love, but not feeling too bad if our arrows miss the mark.
Later still, walking back to the car I found myself alone for a few minutes. When I looked around at the many tall trees (three hundred feet tall and four to six hundred years old) I clearly felt the ancestors were present; especially the ancestral spirit of my mother. I was able to be there speaking clearly and passionately because she was there.
I felt a deep gratitude for the teachings my environmentalist mother gave me when, as a child, she took our family every summer to the north woods of Michigan and instructed us in how to listen to, love and feel connected to the father/mother god she taught us was present in the forests.
I thank her.
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