Thanks for this, Mary. I've written to the BLM. Our old-growth forests are like a cathedral for me. I can't imagine losing even a portion. Time for another sort of protest, all necessary due to the same fetid source. Sigh.
I heartily appreciate your reverence for these forests. They are so much more important than just as a crop to be harvested. Trump’s policies are disastrous and will curse us for decades after he moves on. I grieve for these lands and us.
Thank you Mary. Reading this.....was mesmerizing to me. The more you wrote, the more I truly felt I was there and feeling so many emotions. I have been in forests as well as the woods of the south. I like you played with the tadpoles in the streams, watched butterflies float through the air, smelled the sweetness and earthiness of the air, the hug of the earth. But, then to be pulled out of these unforgettable memories and be faced with the fact that our government intends to pillage and destroy this glorious part of nature for money and to help their fellow rich billionaires is disgusting a so evil. Humans who have no respect for everything special on this earth. Can you give me a brief instruction on how to word a letter to BLM. I am not articulate in regards to writing to actually grab whoever is reading the letter's attention and respect it. I could use some guidance because they don't care about what I described as my memories. What can I say to help change their minds?
"I knew the land first as a child knows it, through sensation and story and the quiet conviction that whatever feels beautiful and immense must also be safe." This paragraph nails #NostalgiaForNature 🤌
Thank you for including the BLM comment form. The founding idea of putting land into trust overseed by the Federal Government was to protect land for generations to come. It is indeed ironic that the people put in charge of the chicken coup are now the foxes...
Thank you for this eloquent piece. When I moved to Oregon and first realized that so many of the so-called forests I was looking at were simply cropland, with all the trees the same height and too close together (a commodity planted to maximize yield), my first thought was, Can I absorb the pain of seeing this daily?
I am reminded of words by Chief Sealth: “We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors; we borrow it from our children. “. I grew up on the Olympic peninsula, and in the last ten years have returned to live here again. Mary, thanks so much for writing to remind me of my childhood.
The woods has our cabin , we’ve kayaked the Deschutes , identity words “cathedrals, mesmerized, reverence” captures essence and memories. Some children ,maybe some adults have never experienced this …and should. I am a registered tree farm owner now , aging, to bring and enhance as in “back with the land” vs “back to the land”. Maybetouch the philosophical…
Some people are born or molded into the dollar value of: their employee, their home, their land, their job…but preservation of our mother be it woods, water, wildlife, or people needs balance …..to make sure their integral respect is sustained…
You tugged at my heart with this piece. I grew up in Oregon and my family took us to so many beautiful places. My children continued these adventures and my grandchildren are always so happy to be outdoors. Personally I’d rather be in the mountains than at the beach. I’m always scared someone is going to be swept out to sea. I grew up camping and swimming all day at the North Fork of the Santiam. When the fire swept through the canyon I was devastated. I went to look at it and cried. I couldn’t even recognize the places I’d been to hundreds of times. My first thoughts when I heard the plan was denial then pain.
I think Trump is retaliating against Oregon by destroying what is vital to us.
Just a little thing that I wrote quite a long time ago. Still fighting the fight--we must not go gently into that good night....
Mount Rainier Hike, July 1993
My feeling as I stand in this small clearing is contradictory. Mostly, it is a love for this place and all places like this because they have existed forever, moving and changing in a slow, stately pace through all of time. It has taken every second of time since the first crustal cooling of the planet to produce what I stand here in awe of. I can savor the feeling of my own evanescence while standing in the presence of eternity. At the same time, my love for this place is tinged with a background of sadness because I realize that this beauty, this symmetry, this perfect balance of so many disparate forces may be gone in the virtual twinkling of an eye. This place and all others like it, are in danger of disappearing, possibly within my own lifetime. We have surrounded Mount Rainier and many other places like it with “protected” areas and have told ourselves that they will be preserved forever, but there is no such thing as forever for mankind. We have turned our world into a gigantic zoo, put the mountains in the cages, and we go to visit them on weekends.
The ancient forests of the Northwest are gone. We argue interminably over whether there is five percent or ten percent of them remaining. Sophistry. When something is ninety or ninety-five percent destroyed, it no longer exists. And even as we fruitlessly dispute irrelevant numbers, powerful human forces are fighting to be first in line to destroy the few remaining trees, all in the name of a few years of continued profit. There is great and powerful opposition to the establishment of more parks and preserves, even in the middle of the Mojave Desert, and always the twin gods of Progress and Growth are cited in the arguments. How much longer can we defend the preserves that we’ve already established?
Each time I hike out here I pause often, as I’m doing now, to just look—look at the mountains, trees, birds and animals. I stand here in the warm sun of late summer, the weight of my pack heavy on my shoulders, connecting me to the Earth, feeling the familiar perspiration-wet spot in the center of my back. I lean on my staff and am again awed by the grandeur, the immensity of the concept of all of this as a process that began millions of years ago and continues beneath me right now. This place which seems so changeless, so timeless, is changing, growing, moving to rhythms that I cannot hear or feel, and can barely even conceive of. Every time that I come here is the very first time. Standing in this wilderness, in what must truly be the house of God, I say hello again to the holiness, and am renewed. But part of me—a tiny but achingly sad part—is also saying goodbye.
Hi Shanley. What an eloquently written piece. I grew up on a small island off the coast of Massachusetts. But even there, I learned the wonders of forest and the beauty and solitude there in. Nancy spent most of her life on the West Coast and through her I have been introduced to the glorious forests in Oregon. We’ve each written to BLM.
Thanks for this, Mary. I've written to the BLM. Our old-growth forests are like a cathedral for me. I can't imagine losing even a portion. Time for another sort of protest, all necessary due to the same fetid source. Sigh.
I heartily appreciate your reverence for these forests. They are so much more important than just as a crop to be harvested. Trump’s policies are disastrous and will curse us for decades after he moves on. I grieve for these lands and us.
Thank you Mary. Reading this.....was mesmerizing to me. The more you wrote, the more I truly felt I was there and feeling so many emotions. I have been in forests as well as the woods of the south. I like you played with the tadpoles in the streams, watched butterflies float through the air, smelled the sweetness and earthiness of the air, the hug of the earth. But, then to be pulled out of these unforgettable memories and be faced with the fact that our government intends to pillage and destroy this glorious part of nature for money and to help their fellow rich billionaires is disgusting a so evil. Humans who have no respect for everything special on this earth. Can you give me a brief instruction on how to word a letter to BLM. I am not articulate in regards to writing to actually grab whoever is reading the letter's attention and respect it. I could use some guidance because they don't care about what I described as my memories. What can I say to help change their minds?
"I knew the land first as a child knows it, through sensation and story and the quiet conviction that whatever feels beautiful and immense must also be safe." This paragraph nails #NostalgiaForNature 🤌
Thank you for including the BLM comment form. The founding idea of putting land into trust overseed by the Federal Government was to protect land for generations to come. It is indeed ironic that the people put in charge of the chicken coup are now the foxes...
Thank you for this eloquent piece. When I moved to Oregon and first realized that so many of the so-called forests I was looking at were simply cropland, with all the trees the same height and too close together (a commodity planted to maximize yield), my first thought was, Can I absorb the pain of seeing this daily?
I am reminded of words by Chief Sealth: “We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors; we borrow it from our children. “. I grew up on the Olympic peninsula, and in the last ten years have returned to live here again. Mary, thanks so much for writing to remind me of my childhood.
The woods has our cabin , we’ve kayaked the Deschutes , identity words “cathedrals, mesmerized, reverence” captures essence and memories. Some children ,maybe some adults have never experienced this …and should. I am a registered tree farm owner now , aging, to bring and enhance as in “back with the land” vs “back to the land”. Maybetouch the philosophical…
Some people are born or molded into the dollar value of: their employee, their home, their land, their job…but preservation of our mother be it woods, water, wildlife, or people needs balance …..to make sure their integral respect is sustained…
We need to teach that.
Live that.
Thank you Shanley, love the collage🫶
You tugged at my heart with this piece. I grew up in Oregon and my family took us to so many beautiful places. My children continued these adventures and my grandchildren are always so happy to be outdoors. Personally I’d rather be in the mountains than at the beach. I’m always scared someone is going to be swept out to sea. I grew up camping and swimming all day at the North Fork of the Santiam. When the fire swept through the canyon I was devastated. I went to look at it and cried. I couldn’t even recognize the places I’d been to hundreds of times. My first thoughts when I heard the plan was denial then pain.
I think Trump is retaliating against Oregon by destroying what is vital to us.
Just a little thing that I wrote quite a long time ago. Still fighting the fight--we must not go gently into that good night....
Mount Rainier Hike, July 1993
My feeling as I stand in this small clearing is contradictory. Mostly, it is a love for this place and all places like this because they have existed forever, moving and changing in a slow, stately pace through all of time. It has taken every second of time since the first crustal cooling of the planet to produce what I stand here in awe of. I can savor the feeling of my own evanescence while standing in the presence of eternity. At the same time, my love for this place is tinged with a background of sadness because I realize that this beauty, this symmetry, this perfect balance of so many disparate forces may be gone in the virtual twinkling of an eye. This place and all others like it, are in danger of disappearing, possibly within my own lifetime. We have surrounded Mount Rainier and many other places like it with “protected” areas and have told ourselves that they will be preserved forever, but there is no such thing as forever for mankind. We have turned our world into a gigantic zoo, put the mountains in the cages, and we go to visit them on weekends.
The ancient forests of the Northwest are gone. We argue interminably over whether there is five percent or ten percent of them remaining. Sophistry. When something is ninety or ninety-five percent destroyed, it no longer exists. And even as we fruitlessly dispute irrelevant numbers, powerful human forces are fighting to be first in line to destroy the few remaining trees, all in the name of a few years of continued profit. There is great and powerful opposition to the establishment of more parks and preserves, even in the middle of the Mojave Desert, and always the twin gods of Progress and Growth are cited in the arguments. How much longer can we defend the preserves that we’ve already established?
Each time I hike out here I pause often, as I’m doing now, to just look—look at the mountains, trees, birds and animals. I stand here in the warm sun of late summer, the weight of my pack heavy on my shoulders, connecting me to the Earth, feeling the familiar perspiration-wet spot in the center of my back. I lean on my staff and am again awed by the grandeur, the immensity of the concept of all of this as a process that began millions of years ago and continues beneath me right now. This place which seems so changeless, so timeless, is changing, growing, moving to rhythms that I cannot hear or feel, and can barely even conceive of. Every time that I come here is the very first time. Standing in this wilderness, in what must truly be the house of God, I say hello again to the holiness, and am renewed. But part of me—a tiny but achingly sad part—is also saying goodbye.
A wonderful, heartbreaking piece of writing Shanley. Thank you.
Hi Shanley. What an eloquently written piece. I grew up on a small island off the coast of Massachusetts. But even there, I learned the wonders of forest and the beauty and solitude there in. Nancy spent most of her life on the West Coast and through her I have been introduced to the glorious forests in Oregon. We’ve each written to BLM.