September

As I sit here looking out over the canopy that covers most of the town of Flagstaff I am reminded of the stories told of Leopold's realization on his farmland in Wisconsin. I'm not sure if anyone notices the little intricacies of what has adapted, over time, to the arrival and expansion of humans on this plot of "land". Oddly enough I do not hear many birds. Nothing but the occasional chopping of wood or hammering of some project that someone has undertaken. In the distance a train rumbles through as its echoes reverberate throughout the forest. Where have all the birds gone? I'm not an expert on the migration or local ecology of birds but I would have guessed that with such an abundance of real estate I would be listening to a symphony of calls and cackles rather than the high-pitch grumblings of the nearby yapper-dog. Perhaps Leopold and I have both experienced the quiet setting of September.

I find it interesting that we debate and toil over land management issues while all other species just continue to use the land the way they always have. We, humans, have used our greatest ability, thought, to complicate and redefine a very simple stage for us to perform on. How often do people think of the crow that flies overhead or the movement of the leaves indicating a push of air? Such an amazing act to witness yet we're more concerned with what time our favorite tv show comes on or making it to an important meeting. What can be more important than witnessing the glorious motion of life and time and space?

When I look out and see the slow motion of the swaying trees and all the interrelated motions of creatures that share the land, I feel that I'm connected to them by the simple statement "I am". We all share this. We may not share the same home or inhabit the same body but we all form an "I Amness" in our experience. My experience, in this sense, is no different than the ponderosa pine or the black lab or my neighbor. There is a subjective nature that we all share yet there are objective divisions that disable many of us to see our interrelated bonds. My body, my thoughts, and all that I see are nothing more than objects, quantifiable organizations of matter cooperatively working side-by-side to continue this thing called life. But what is it about this "life" that connects me to the past? What is it about this life that connects me to you or any other organism? There is a part of me that observes everything including myself. This "I Amness" of realization connects me back to every living thing that has ever witnessed, even if only for a short moment, its own existence. Am I to think that a dog has never realized its own self? How would a dog 'know' to get excited when its owner comes home? Is there not some memory indicating to that animal that it has experienced a moment of I Amness that it desires to experience again?