Dry, dry, dry. It’s been months since ANY rain has fallen. Emigration Canyon Creek, which runs through my property, looks like a graveyard of dried bones. Pale rocks and scaly dirt stir reminders of old times when the creek flowed impressively, people fished, and even some inner tubes floated along in certain areas. It may yet flow again, but the current drought leaves a bone-chilling effect.
In the more than dozen years I have lived up canyon, water never surfaced as a topic of conversation. Our neighbors all lead busy and professional lives, and discussions at potluck get-togethers turn to local politics, national politics, children, and grandchildren. The best part is that we all agree about everything political and share laughter about the cuteness of our descendants. Yes, we have our own bubble and we love it. It reminds me of the old commercials about Colgate toothpaste and its “protective dental shield.” In these times, we need protective shields of any kind.
But now the conversation turns to water in a serious way. We are all on wells, and some have begun to sputter. Those who feel fortunate to still have a bit of flow, turn to conservation in dramatic ways. The uncertainty of water can create panic in the hearts of all of us. Water may be the most unappreciated precious commodity we know. Already it is far pricier than oil.
When climate scientists warned of droughts years ago, the snowpack up canyon was just fine. We’re now wondering about our provinciality, thinking that droughts were reserved for places like The Sudan. Global warming impacts the whole world…duh.
We’re living in our own private Sudan. The American Middle Class meets climate change. The onslaught of unprecedented powerful hurricanes coming with eerie frequency, coupled with dried up creeks extending to the once-lush northwest, make us quickly realize that climate change is not a matter of future predictions. It’s upon us now. This is it, and will only get more extreme.
In a recent interview, Terry Tempest Williams shifted our focus about climate change from an ecological issue to primarily a spiritual one. I can only concur, moving my own views on climate change from an intellectual challenge to be solved, to a gut-wrenching fear in my soul. When she was asked: “What makes it a spiritual issue,” she answered: “Because it has everything to do with an ethical stance towards life. It is a spiritual issue to extend our notion of power to include all species, not just our own…We believe in the supremacy of our own species, that we live only for us…Fossil fuel development in the American West is affecting our communities, especially regarding water.”
Yes, even water comes down to being an ethical issue. Thirst can make you look at life differently; it help rearrange your priorities. Maybe our whole problem with the current administration in D.C. is that (fundamentally) it eschews an ethical stance towards life. This is no liberal jargon. Even the president’s own cabinet has drawn the line where right-wing extremism spills over into lunacy. We may end up with a bipartisan effort yet in invoking the 25thamendment. You need to choose words carefully upon doing so; you can’t site “crazy” as a reason. I recommend, “failing to take an ethical stance towards life.”
Meanwhile, not a trickle of water can be discerned on the creek. It’s been real dry all over. And so we wait. Filled with prayer, we wait. And all those cute stories shared with neighbors about the grandchildren, become laden with panic as we look towards the future with great uncertainty. It’s a spiritual issue all right, when we fail future generations.
I don’t think we’ll get much water until we begin to examine the whole of life more ethically. Even when we finally do take a stance, it will be a while yet before the water flows again. I don’t expect to do any fishing in the creek in my lifetime, but even a trickle will raise my spirit. The burden of cementing an ethical stance towards life falls on us. It falls on our church. I’m so glad we’re all there. TRG