COMING HOME
The Earth is the only real home humans will ever have. The Moon or Mars may someday become a marginal home-away-from-home, but we evolved on this planet and were adapted well to it ... at least in the beginning.
Spaceship Earth comes with an owner’s manual written in the ecology that powers life and its ongoing adaptation to a changing planet. To become disconnected from wilderness is to misplace that manual. We don’t own the Earth; we are but temporary tenants and stewards of this geological and biological marvel. The decisions we make today will affect generations to come, but we can only make good choices when we are in harmony with the natural world. Our children and grandchildren are counting on us, and history will judge us.
When I helped care for our youngest grandchild as an infant, every day after lunch, I took her out for a long walk in her “BOB.” It was the perfect recipe for putting an active infant to sleep. We’re blessed to live in a rural area where the dominant sounds are birds, most noticeably Canada Geese in the winter. Even if I went out stressed, I returned feeling both exhilarated and relaxed. My granddaughter slept peacefully as long as we were outdoors; the bumpier the ride, the better she slept. It made me think of what a Conestoga ride might have been like for a young child two hundred years ago. Amazing transformations occur in the outdoors as it works its magic in so many ways.
When I think back to my childhood, my warmest memories are usually connected to the outdoors: playing stickball in our little street, exploring vacant lots, playing in the snow, riding bikes, running through a sprinkler, sleeping under the stars, and catching fireflies at night. Growing up in a row house in Baltimore, being outdoors was a necessity. With a room on the third floor and no air conditioning or fan, staying inside was not an option. What a contrast to today, when the streets are virtually empty during the day and everyone camps out in front of computers and TVs in the evening. When one does venture outdoors, it is most often for a structured activity.
Humans were originally a nomadic species, living outdoors, coping with weather and the world around them, and learning to read the patterns in the weather, stars, and natural world. Observation was survival. Understanding the interconnectedness of nature was essential. Our genetic material was shaped in the outdoors, not in the comfort of a house watching TV. Not that I’m advocating throwing away the advancements of civilization, but in our air-conditioned, soundproofed houses with a computer or TV as our way to explore our planet, many have lost touch with our roots.
Outdoors, humans experience a sense of freedom, responsibility, and stewardship. We learn how to amuse ourselves – no scheduled day of activities; nature does the programming. Years ago, there was no TV to constantly rerun the latest crime, now driving parents to almost obsessive overprotectiveness. Probably most important is the feeling of peace and tranquility that one can experience outdoors. During my high school years in the city, on a vacant lot, I found a long-deserted garage foundation that was completely overgrown. It was where I escaped to on some of my darkest days. A lot of tears fell in that garage that I frequented with my beagle companion, Dixie. I can still smell the honeysuckle and hear the subtle rustling of leaves that masked the sounds of the surrounding neighborhood. I went into my outdoor sanctuary, aching from the weight of my problems. I emerged with the issues still unresolved, but with an inner peace that gave me the strength to confront them. The outdoors provides a better context for beginning to resolve our seemingly overwhelming problems.
Our problems or life situations can become so magnified in our minds, but retreating to the outdoors and the natural world can right that perspective. Some might call it a religious experience, others a humbling one; in fact, it’s just a reality check. We are but transient and relatively unimportant inhabitants of this ship hurtling through space; what we do is insignificant on a geological scale. It is our choice to make something of our brief moment in time. My best thoughts and most coherent moments come while I'm outdoors.
How many children today have never:
Walked in the woods off a trail?
Buried a beloved pet in the ground, adorning it with one’s tears?
Slept under the stars and, while gazing up at them, realized how astronomically insignificant we are?
Planted an oak tree from an acorn and watched it grow over the years?
Sat outside around a campfire, soaking in that warmth, while the nocturnal world awakens to take over for the diurnal world?
Found a small natural place that one can “claim” as their own?
Getting children outdoors was an integral part of my career as an environmental science teacher. It saddened me to see outdoor experience often being eliminated so that children could do better on a written test. One can’t measure the affective part of education. I watched elementary school children raising money to save a rainforest, but they had never been in a local deciduous forest.
I’m not a hunter, but hunting is not incongruous with the natural world. However, I’ve seen numerous children go hunting without the proper respect or understanding of the organisms they hunt. An animal is more than just a moving target. Ironically, true hunters are among our greatest conservationists; to be a good hunter, one must understand an animal's behavior and ecology. How sad that some have lost this understanding! I wonder how the next generation of legislators and leaders will make environmental decisions when so few understand the ecology behind them. Not only do many today fail to see the value of human diversity, but they also can’t see the importance of species diversity. Will they value an environment that they have never experienced?
The Fact-free Zone now pervades the natural world. It’s not that we lack the facts; we don’t have the experience and connection to that world to understand and make the decisions needed of a good steward as we continue our journey on Spaceship Earth. Wilderness is not a luxury but the essential core of our nature.
Our course, then, is clear. It is essential for every educator—and, more importantly, every parent—to get our children outdoors, expose them to the natural world, and let them explore and question. Our children need to play—to get dirty — to experience and become stewards of our planet. Without this, our disconnect with the environment will only grow. Reconnecting to the natural world should be our legacy for generations to come. It is time for all of us to come home.