I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know or care a great deal
about the particulars of the Keystone XL Pipeline. There is an enormous amount
of information available from pretty much every angle—you can get your
scientific statistics, your political wonk numbers, your geographic and
geologic jollies, your social justice qualitative data sets, and all the rest.
And if that’s your thing, go for it and godspeed. But if you are looking to
bolster your resistance to Keystone by marshaling some numbers to throw like
flaming arrows at anyone who still believes this horror is a viable energy
source, my words will not help you.
I’m not a scientist or a politician. I’m a writer. As such all I’m
concerned about here is the state of our souls, and how that relates to the
health of the world we live in. Thank whatever you call holy that these
ethereal and vitally necessary pieces of our hearts cannot be counted, bought
and sold as stocks or votes.
I just drove from Marblehead, Mass. back to my home in
Somerville. Yes, I was driving and yes it was just me in the car—any grief that
causes you, be aware I already own in spades. But the road cuts along the
ocean, by salt marshes and tidal zones. In one place, between Lynn and Revere,
a fairly large pipeline or penstock runs beside the road, barely over the
water. In some lights, nothing is more heartbreakingly beautiful than this
juxtaposition of industry and nature. I feel that enough heartbreak finds us
all without looking for, without actively creating, building more.
Perhaps that pipe is harmless. Perhaps it is not. Perhaps its function is crucial to the running of the world. I doubt that, very much. But the
idea that the machination and infrastructure of our way of life requires such
intensive alteration, such violation, of the natural and beautiful systems and
structures of the world makes me nauseous. I don’t wish to live as a
Neanderthal, but we must find a healthier balance, rather than asking and
taking and pulling out all the Jenga blocks of an ecosystem, rather than
leaching poisons and toxic air into everything we touch in our ever expanding
quest for something mysteriously known as “enough.” And telling ourselves, over
and over, that it is a balance, that with our growing conservation movement and
embrace of “green” and “sustainable” choices, we are giving back to the earth.
We must also stop being so surprised that the world cannot give and give and
give without eventually recoiling with hot and cold spells, with droughts and
storms and floods and famines. We are afraid because we did not think and now
we are unsure how to proceed, now that sureties are evaporating. It is fine to
be frightened. It is not fine to cling to a broken system in hopes it will
heal.
Let us then, start at the beginning. Our opposable thumbs,
our large brains, our various divine mandates of world domination, they do not
entitle us to constantly degrade the health of everything else on earth. If
hurting fewer things requires my own life to be smaller and more circumscribed,
if my freedoms and purchasing power and very geography can be curtailed for the
betterment of anything—songbird egg density to coal miners' lungs to tribal
sovereignty to reliable seasons—then I will gladly begin that process.
I am trying to find the practical ways to begin that
process, to live out the simpler life that the world I love, the world I want,
requires.
At the moment, part of that does require showing up to
support a Presidential veto of Keystone XL. I am wary of any one “cause” that
people can rally around. Yes, of course, we need a place to start, something
concrete to come together over before flying off in our thousand love-netted
ways. But here is what irks me—this pipeline, as bad as it is, will not make or
break the climate movement. Our carbon levels are already too high, and we
cannot seem to marry our knowledge of that, our revulsion of that, with our own
actual lives. That is the real cause and effect that needs to be drastically
addressed. Keystone will be a watershed moment in terms of Federal,
Presidential recognition of climate change and fossil fuel dependence as
realities that demand new and diverse solutions, but that, alone is not enough
for me. The larger solutions, the effective ones come in how we live, in how we lead, not in how we are lead.
Monday evening is being organized as a rally/solidarity date
to demonstrate how much support there is in this country for a future without
the dirty tar sands oil of Keystone and all the incorporated evils. I don’t
hold much with sign waving and hippy chanting, and I hope that the rally I
attend will have neither. But, even so, I’ll still go. I show up for what I
love. I don't know what else to do. And like nothing else, I love the knowledge that life doesn’t have to be
how it is, killing the planet. There are better ways and we all know this. We can escape the dangerous patterns, but we cannot do this
passively.
A vigil, a rally, a whatever brings people together to build
the kinder future we want is a chance to see that we are all in this together.
We want something better than what we’ve got with aging pipes running over
tidal grasses and transmission lines through our beautiful mountains. We need
leaders in powerful places, and this includes our own selves and our own
hearts. 350.org has a whole bunch of these rallies and gatherings. Find one near you, and make the effort to show up. All the logistical details of
why you can’t…think of the most lovely place you know and balance what matters
most to your heart and soul.
Or make your own event. Light a candle tomorrow night, hug
someone you love, start spring seedlings, go for a long walk, pray, make
bread, play your favorite song, whatever. But let, for this one night to start,
your actions be in service and solidarity to the smaller and kinder future the
world requires, that in all its beauty and all your hopes, this place we live
deserves.
The other days will follow, as we choose them to be.
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