Optimism is Rising
As ‘80s indulgences give way to homegrown national parks
I’ve neglected this column for too long, and am looking forward to reconnecting with everyone. This seems like the perfect opportunity, as I watch the late summer optimism unfold, in nature and in humans.
On a personal level, some of that optimism is emanating from my front yard. For those following our house project, we’re pretty much done!
It took a few years to turn an abandoned wreck into a comfortable home (there was a lot of traveling and camping intertwined, which pushed the timeline considerably).
Once the inside became cozy, I decided to see what could be done about the dirt-weed yard.
I planted a mix of native grasses, wildflowers and bushes, plus a few non-native ones that I thought might have a chance of surviving here. This is a difficult place for anything to live, with winters that dip into sub-zero temps and less than seven inches of rain a year.
But this year the rains came wildly, nearly every afternoon, which really helped everyone get off to a good start.
And I got the treat of seeing what a bit of green diversity can do for the local residents. Suddenly, there are neighbors I’ve never seen here before: yellow garden spiders, a host of native bees and flies, and a flock of fledgling sparrows who have spent their days learning how to peck and hunt for seeds and bugs. We even had a spotted ground squirrel and a couple of bunnies, who delighted in chasing the young sparrows through the flowers.
The yard is barely a dent in an otherwise barren, plowed over and parched stretch of the valley, but it’s really made our summer watching it transform. In fact, Steve and I had so much fun literally watching the grass grow. It’s also made me realize that while the yard is great entertainment for us, it’s really about something much greater.
For a while now I’ve been thinking about the ‘80s, the decade when it suddenly became okay to be self-absorbed. I remember dancing with reckless abandon to Madonna’s “Material Girl.” Not that my life at that time, or any time since, has been particularly full of material possessions, but in hindsight, those lyrics held a lot of foreshadowing.
As a society, starting in the ‘80s we embraced headlong the idea that amassing monetary wealth — and flaunting it —was the ultimate life goal. Not kindness, or compassion, or community. Just wealth. And to get that wealth, it became acceptable behavior to put oneself first. It became okay to screw over a coworker for a promotion. Movies celebrated doing just that. It became okay for corporations to pollute in the name of shareholder profits. Okay to squeeze in one more housing development. To squeeze out more more piece of habitat.
(On a side note, it’s not just companies like Exxon that have been working against the common good. It’s also pervasive in our food industry. Here’s a good article about it from the Post, and NutritionFacts.org has done some great videos about it.)
Since the ‘80s, these values have been pressed so far into our collective psyche that they’ve become normalized. We tend to define ourselves and judge others based on what we and they do for a living. But there are all sorts of unpaid tasks that are far more important, like caring for family, volunteering, playing music, dancing, finding a practice like yoga or meditation, reading nonfiction, reading murder mysteries, learning, being curious, cooking, and zoning out in a hammock. We even seem to have this notion that a teacher is somehow less important, less intelligent, than some finance dude in a suit. Ick.
Ultimately money is necessary, but it is not so interesting. Too much focus on it has the tendency to make us rather dull and unsavory.
These money and eco-centric values may have become normalized, but they’re not normal, especially for a species that became successful largely because of our ability to cooperate. So, it’s time to change that norm. And one way to do that is to realize that true wealth is found in that brief moment when we see a loved one smile. It’s found in those deep belly laughs we’ve all been longing to find for so long now. It’s found in watching a beetle mosey along its way. What fun is a bank statement compared with the joy of watching a great thunderstorm roar over the landscape?
This is not to say that money isn’t important. For those of us without trust funds, making enough of it often eclipses the more important parts of life. I rush around trying to get enough articles pitched and accepted to make ends meet, and even when I’m not working on them, I’m thinking about them and about finances. I’m trying to change that, though, so I can be more fully present for the best parts of life.
My bad habits, of forgetting life’s priorities and what brings actual happiness, are largely rooted in self-absorptive behavior. Us humans tend to think everything is about us — whether that’s little old me, or a bratty, ill-behaved politician, or a psychopathic billionaire. But it’s totally more comforting when we can realize it isn’t about us. That rainstorm wasn’t out to ruin my hike. It was a product of the magnificent forces of nature that combine to create life on this planet. And that editor didn’t blow me off because of me. She was busy worrying about her own life.
Which brings me back to our yard. I thought I planted it for me. But I’ve since realized that the enjoyment of one human is minuscule compared with the millions of other lives unfolding in those 600 square feet, nearly all of which I will never know. Microbes and ants, mycelium and mites, all communicating in ways we humans haven’t yet decoded. But we don’t have to decipher their precise chirps and vibrations to understand that they are working as a community, and the health of their community depends on acting like one.
We, too, are not separate from their community, even though we have done our darnedest to try to see ourselves that way. Luckily, this desire to reunite with the natural world is catching on. I’m reading about more and more people turning their yards back into habitat, and it feels like a revolution. Creating habitat is important, yes, but the true revolutionary part is that when people choose to do that, they are freeing themselves from that ‘80s self-indulgent mindset — and returning to the ultimate community, nature.
And the good news is, this is a revolution we can all participate in. Some people are creating native plant pollinator corridors, which connect neighborhood yards and public spaces. Others are planting oak trees, even though only their descendants will get to see their full majesty. Even a planter with native species on an apartment windowsill helps the greater good.
However we do it, fostering these natural communities allows us to feel more humble, more balanced. It helps us feel a peace which can only come from a sense of belonging, of realizing that we do belong to the natural community, and the wonders of the world are much bigger than any one of us.
If you are so lucky to have the means to be able to join in this revolution, I encourage you to plant some native plants. It’s also helpful to certify your efforts with local and national conservation organizations, to help foster this wave and encourage others to ride it. Some local Audubon chapters offers certifications. The Xerces Society has resources for pollinator yards and campuses. National Wildlife Federation has a popular wildlife habitat certification. And Doug Tallamy’s Homegrown National Park program is truly fantastic.
And don’t let the magnitude of the task intimidate you. You don’t need a perfect habitat, and it’s okay if you’re just getting started. Every great landscape is forever a work in progress. And every fantastic journey begins with one step… or, rather, seed.
Now, I’m off to go outside and watch the flowers grow. Have a wonderful late summer. That first glint of fall is soon to be in the night air. Such an energizing time of year.
Awesome Karuna. Thanks for the notes on the helpful organizations. I will check them out for my new place when I get there. I want to create an urban forest (pint size).
I am wondering if your human neighbors have any comments??
It took me a good bit to relax and let weeds be weeds. I sure enjoy watching the pollinators do their work. I can still have a nice area for the pup to roam AND an area for the butterflies, bees, jumping spiders, ladybugs . . .