Bodily Memories

9/5  Bodily Memories
     As I drove the car slowly down the gravel road, a small meadow bounded by low sandstone ledges came into view and the memory was sudden and hard, like someone had delivered a punch not so much to my physical body, but perhaps my psychic body: a shock such that I actually cried out in surprise.
     A series of impressions crowded in like flotsam on rising river: grass burning in an advancing line up the low slope, reaching the bases of the juniper trees and after a few minutes when the flames found the current of a tree’s sap, a sudden flaring and the tree became a torch roaring skyward until there was nothing left to burn but a stubborn wood skeleton.  Other impressions: the fire retardant-treated clothing, 2-way radios, helmets, pulaskis and shovels, 25 pounds of water in a backpack with a hose…and the drip torches.  Canisters of gasoline carried by one of the team who lit the nozzle at the end of a short hose and walked wide, carefully designed patterns in the meadow, setting the grass on fire, while the others watched the fire’s progress, scraping away grass to bare earth or wetting the ground if the low flames threatened to leave our carefully designed field of play.  Nearby was a truck with 1000 gallons of water and 100 ft hoses should the fire behave differently than predicted.
     But it was the first, visceral, impression that I pondered.  That this activity of 15 years past appeared to be stored in the cells and tissues of my body…and why was it tinged with an unpleasant perfume?
     There had been another instance of bodily memory during this return. It had a very different feel. Stumbling back through low sagebrush to the cabin at dusk on the first night, I wasn’t sure of the way and the failing light made the details of the small canyon vague.  My mind searched for retrievable data, found none and then played out a couple of scenarios of having a long walk in the dark to the cabin if I missed the path up onto the ledge and went all the way down to the road. It was in the midst of this reverie that I noticed my feet had found a barely distinct path in the sandy soil. “Yes, this way”, my body said. How strange! Something in the body remembers this walk, which I did many times the 2 years I worked at the preserve.  The mind has forgotten, but the body remembers.
     As I thought more about my experiences on the prescribed burn crew, I saw that these 2-3 weeks in September and October when the night time temperatures were low enough that fire was hard to sustain and the moisture content of the vegetation was high enough that the fire would only spread slowly - this time in the Fall was one part of my job I did not like – not because fire can be so dangerous or the work days were especially long, but rather that in my heart, I disagreed with the preserve policy of getting rid of the junipers because they were (and still are) considered to be an invasive species at the preserve and throughout much of the West, living where they shouldn't and competing unfairly with cattle for water and sparse soil nutrients that feed the native grasses.(1)
     The preserve manager was something of a confessed pyromaniac as well as a highly trained, very competent fire technician and ecologist, and you could see that he actually enjoyed watching the junipers burn and took some satisfaction in counting up their destruction, acre by acre, fulfilling the management plan.
     The West lived on: The only good juniper is a dead juniper!  Whatever doesn't fit into our plan for how things ought to be is targeted for extermination.  Old story. (2)
     When I looked at the landscape, though, I just saw trees, with an accompanying sense of their inherent right to be there amongst the grasses, sage and small herbaceous plants.  Why?  Simply because they were there. Trees don’t have motives or plan invasions.  They just grow where small mammals and birds deposit their seeds and the conditions are right for those seed to fulfill their promise.
     Fifteen years ago, it was scientifically arguable exactly why the conditions were right for a juniper invasion of foothills of the West – a slowly-brewing combination of over-grazing, introduction of non-native grass species, higher temperatures and scant precipitation in the last century were among the probable causes making the rounds at academic conferences, as biologists and land managers studied species distributions, tree core samples, pack rat middens (3), and wildlife numbers to find a patterns and explanations and remedies.
    But despite all of this adverse publicity, there they were: stout roughly conical trees of 10-20 feet in height with straggly peeling bark that covered dense, hardwood (good for fence posts because it doesn't rot), scaly foliage and pungent berries (used to make gin).  I liked them, just as I did the other plants that populated what I considered to be a slice of heaven, this beautiful rise of sandstone and limestone with its secretive canyons studded with ponderosa, doug fir, aspen and spruce, meadows where mule deer slept in the shade during the day, red tailed hawks drew slow circles in the sky and elk bugled excitedly in the evenings each September.
     And so there was a part of me that resisted doing what I did, carrying my drip torch and lighting the grass on fire, aiming for the junipers.  I'd carried that memory with me like the 25 pounds of water on my back, and it weighed into the cells of my heart over the years.  Besides the junipers, how many other lives did I extinguish with my fires – the countless mice, voles, insects and other small creatures who live at ground level? Were there birds’ nests in the stout trees?  Maybe the ash returned to the thin soils when the winter snow melted was a measure of reparation. But ultimately I carried the question: Who were we to say that the junipers should go?  Science is a man-made thing, and men are always busy thinking, designing and fixing the world. What if it doesn’t need us to fix it?  What if Nature’s heart and mind are bigger than any of ours, and She is moving in ways we don't comprehend yet?
     I don't know -it's not really something for the mind to grasp, but for the intelligence of the body and the heart to feel.  What I do know is that fifteen years later I see the still-standing gray skeletons among the grasses, persistent bones of an invader army of junipers.  Here and there, new recruits rise a few feet above the grass tops, and I'm still happy to see them.

__________________
(1) Today Wyoming's grasslands are also managed for sage grouse habitat.  The native ground nesting birds are declining in numbers across the West and depend on the mosaic of sagebrush and grass. And to be fair, periodic lightning-caused fires are a natural event, and help sustain species diversity in grasslands.
(2) Coincidentally, the white man who coined the famous injunction I paraphrase here was General Sheridan, for whom the town at the northeastern end of the Bighorns is named. Sheridan and his superior, General Sherman, waged a bloody war of extermination on the "Sioux" and their allies in the land that became northeastern Wyoming.
(3) Bushy tailed wood rats, commonly called pack rats because of their proclivity for collecting things, build up piles of their excreta, generation after generation in the same place.  Some of these middens on the preserve where I worked are 3-4000 years old, and biologists take core samples to see what the seed-eating rodents were gathering, thus telling us what plant species were present.  Interestingly, they provide evidence that junipers were growing on the slopes of the Big Horn Mountains in the 1800's.
(4) Lest this little essay be taken as disparaging in general of science and efforts to sustain native landscapes through the West, I must say that I do have a great deal of respect for the people who do this work, and the land that has been protected and restored from over-use.

Weeds

Weeds

A “weed” only exists

in the human mind --not

God’s or Natures’s.

What is in your life

you think you don’t want?

You have called forth every

Thing, as Source.

Perhaps you’ve forgotten… but

that weed (or plague of locusts) is here because you,

in some bigger realm of your consciousness,

You called it into Being.

Precisely: so that your Perfect Gardener

with her planting schedule, carefully-saved seeds,

gardening gloves, spade, hoe and pruners…

Could dissolve into perfect

Union with her most ardently-resisted foe.

You called the weeds, and the locusts

the ex-husbands and ungrateful children

the alcoholic father and the cancer…

You called them, and named them,

so that in Sweet Embrace,

the Perfect Gardener could be lost

to Eden’s grace.

Ainslie Kincross 2011

I'm listening to a neighbor's (incredibly loud) leaf blower and it strikes me that there's a connection to "Occupy Wall Street":

The 99% have been brainwashed into believing that they must have neat and tidy yards, that Nature's cyclical balancing of production and decomposition isn't worthy or sufficient, and that they need to BUY (= credit card, 2nd job, debt) new gas-guzzling, polluting machines every other year to remedy this "problem".

Hello??

Freedom

A friend recently posted some thoughts about "freedom". Americans are rather fond of (mis)using the word, usually to connote "freedom to do/have whatever I want, at the expense of others if necessary". The feeling slides easily over into a bullying stance, expressed most openly on the freeway.

My thought is that "freedom" is none other than the free will humans have been granted by the Creator. It's an astonishing gift of real power: to decide in every moment how we will be! Will I be happy, or resentful? Will I be loving or unkind? Will I make the day better for the people around me, or worse? Will I appreciate the gifts, large and small, that are presented me, or will I disdain them? What kind of world will I create in this moment?

This "kind" of freedom contains a lot of self-responsibility. (A creator is always responsible for his/her creations.) The other kind actually sustains victimhood, because it's usually voiced as a reaction by someone who's feeling threatened by another's views or actions. Sometimes it's a lot more convenient to make someone else responsible (back seat of the 1957 Rambler station wagon: "He hit me first!!")

I think there's a 'mathematical' equation here, something like:

freedom + self responsibility = true power

A New Infrastructure

Infrastructure Noun: The basic physical and organizational structures and facilities (e.g., buildings, roads, and power supplies) needed for the operation of a society or enterprise. (Google definition)

The infrastructure supplying power, water and other supplies to residents of Alabama and adjacent states has been severely disrupted by the tornadoes which swept through the area Wednesday. Power lines are down, 3 nuclear plants are shut down, and natural gas service has been shut off until leaks can be repaired in parts of Tuscaloosa.* Several major manufacturers have suspended operations. Reconstruction will take time and cost millions of dollars the US does not have (trillion dollar deficit).

Similar scenarios are playing out in elsewhere in the world: Texas (fires), Japan (earthquake, tsunami),Christchurch NZ (earthquake), Queensland (flooding)....and of course Haiti, still struggling to rebuild. Missouri residents and municipal officials are preparing for record flooding along the Mississippi.

President Obama, touring the area today, stated "Politics, differences of religion or race, all that fades away when we are confronted with the awesome power of nature and we are reminded that all we have is each other."

Reginald Eppes, in the hospital for a collapsed lung and broken ribs, and whose 8 year old son was sucked away by the tornado but later returned unhurt, said in an NPR interview yesterday, said "I lost all my material stuff -- all that's gone. But I feel great...my kids and my wife (are) still here..." and he really did sound great!

Perhaps we are in the midst of creating a new infrastructure 'for the operation of our society'; one that is not of the material world, made of concrete, wire cable, and pipes, but one that can only be seen in the evidence of our actions toward one another, constructed out of love and compassion.

*http://abcnews.go.com/Business/alabama-twister-damage-gasoline-water-electric-power-shortages/story?id=13491212

Science and Spirituality

I've been reflecting on relationships between science and spirituality. I teach Resource Conservation at a business college, and am always looking for the delicate balance between teaching the required "science" and a love of Nature. The former is what's spoken; the latter must be conveyed energetically. One can be taught, the other must be inspired.

Most of the scientific world is still bound by the belief in "materialism" -- that matter is limited to what our instruments (which have been created in the image of our 5 senses) can measure. When we look with the physical body and it's extensions, we see more of the physical world. The "third eye", recognized and experienced primarily in the Eastern spiritual traditions, is a subtle non-physical eye that sees beyond gross physical form. Meditation is the recognized path toward opening the third eye.

A few, notably H.H. Dalai Lama, some physicists and astronomers, have been exploring the intersection of science and spirituality -- and my sense is that what's emerging is a spiritual cosmology that is completely different from either.

Joy in the midst of destruction

Is it possible to experience Joy in the midst of destruction?

Yesterday I listened to an interview with a father of 3 boys who was in the hospital with a collapsed lung and broken ribs after riding out a tornado that completely destroyed his home and at one point tore his eldest son out of his grip. Miraculously, all survived.

The father said: We have lost absolutely EVERYTHING material -- there's nothing left but the concrete slab where the house was -- but I feel GREAT! I have my boys and my wife, and my faith. It was said with such love and the energy conveyed was completely joyful.

This is indeed the lesson we are learning now....we're not meant to hold onto the material aspects of our lives, but find, and create, the connections with other living beings, and with Divine Intelligence.

"You are only a phone call away from worry-free living"

Driving across Montana yesterday, a van passed me at a good clip and I just caught the words on the side "...worry-free living..." . Having just finished a weekend retreat in non-dual wisdom, where "needing nothing" is a state of mind bordering nirvana, I was intrigued enough to speed up just a little and read a little more -- gosh- what kind of business (that required a service vehicle no less) could promise me worry-free living? Might be a line of work I'd like to get into myself!

Worrying is a drag - literally! It's your mind on autopilot, reproducing a repeating cycle of low-grade fear-based thoughts that drains your energy and keeps you from fully engaging the world. When you're preoccupied with thoughts of some imagined negative future (I might be getting the flu.....my boss won't like how I handled this project...what if I lost my job?...) The long term consequences of chronic worrying are a sense of powerlessness and victimhood, and related physical dis-eases (you probably will get the flu!).

Well, the van's advertising was for an appliance repair service! A phone call to this business would give you freedom from worrying...that your refrigerator might go on the blink in the middle of the night. Hmm. I wonder how many folks are actually worried about such things these days? I mean, aren't we supposed to be worried about more important or threatening possibilities like health care (lack of), the economy, H1N1....

Lately, I've learned to check in with how things actually are if I find myself thinking a worrying thought. Those thoughts usually begin with the phrase "What if...?", and more importantly, are always located in future, which does not exist in this moment. In this moment, I notice I'm always fine. And in fact, if I dig into the past even a little, I can't really recall a time or instance when I wasn't ok. Even in the middle of the darkest moment I can remember, I can now see that I was actually ok.

So, I guess that's my phone call for worry-free living.

Fortune cookie

True Emptiness....

Fortune cookies at breakfast this morning
a little celebration of a brother's birthday

Surprise! Mine was empty!

....Ahhhh.....

Radiant Mind

Gratitude and Abundance

are mirror images of one another; two different aspects of the the same quality.

A feeling of gratitude arises automatically when one becomes fully aware of the abundant nature of the universe,

and

the experience of abundance comes naturally when we're in a state of gratitude.

These are two facets of the same jewel.

The jewel is Life, made manifest by the force called Love.

Supersize me!

So here I was, tent camping in the city park in Lyons, Colorado, and saw these two "campers" as I headed out on the last day. You'd think thet the one on the left was produced by a society of elves or "pygmys".....or.....that the one on the right came from a culture of supersized (bariatric?) people...

How have we become convinced that we "need" this much STUFF to go "camping"??

--or simply to leave home? The resources in these two vehicles came from the Earth. This insatiable appetite for newer and bigger contrivances is what's "fueling" the market for more oil, more coal, more uranium, more iron....

... more PVCs, more CO2, more heavy metals in the water supply, more sulfur dioxide, more stuff in landfills.....

... and less clean air, clean water, pristine forests, and species diversity for our children.

Where does it

STOP

A visit to the "Fetterman Massacre" site

Just about due South, and maybe 2 miles from my house, is a low spot in the long ridge which extends east from the Bighorn Mountains and separates the Piney Creek drainage from the smaller Prairie Dog Creek. This was a natural crossing point for prospectors and settlers heading up the eastern side of the Bighorns into Montana on the Bozeman Trail. The Bozeman Trail was yet one more broken promise from the "Grandfather in Washington" to the Northern Cheyenne, Crow and Lakota who lived, hunted and fished in the foothills of these mountains.

From my back porch, I can just barely make out the stone monument erected by Western history "buffs" to the battle. More visible is a lone cottonwood close to the dying place of Big Nose, a Cheyenne warrior who was part of the decoy party that led the Ft. Kearney patrol into an ambush.

There's actually a pretty good set of markers describing the battle from Indian and soldier viewpoints, and I can imagine the long progression of that cold December day as soldiers and Indians fought each other until Captain Fetterman's entire detachment was killed. The decoy party led the soldiers out along a north-trending ridge with a series of dips and high points, and with steep drops to either side into brushy draws. Up out of these draws came the war party of Cheyenne and Lakota, attacking the soldiers from several directions at once.

According to the interpretive sign post, Big Nose was shot when his tired horse faltered; he asked those that came to his aid that they lay him with "his head uphill so that he could breathe the fresh air as he died".

I tried to imagine what it was like to lie on the hard ground of winter, breathing what you know to be your last breaths, while men continued fighting all around you.

It's a far cry from the death that most Americans - and Indians - fear now, in this time. Death from illness: long, drawn-out dying from diabetes, cancer; from chemical byproducts of our ways of life: polluted water, food, air. Our deaths now are complicated by other kinds of battles than the one fought here: now we fight death itself with heroic medical procedures, more chemicals, and decaying atomic particles. No honest confronting that we're dying and simple request to fill our lungs a few more times with some good air, but denial borne, I'm coming to think, of a sense of entitlement to a long and comfortable life.

It seems to me that Big Nose -whatever physical pain he felt- knew what a weakened deer knows when it's caught in the deep drifts of a spring snowstorm or brought down by by a pack of coyotes. Simply "My time is up." It's actually quite impersonal, and not even particularly consequential.

******* *******

I've been working on the design of a hospice facility in Gillette, where the Cheyenne and Lakota once hunted Buffalo, and where the white man hunts coal and coalbed methane these days. The facility will have 6 patient rooms, and there will be 5 rooms for out-of-town family members to stay. Something around 10 or 11 thousand square feet, at roughly $300 per square foot, not to mention the cost of the palliative care itself, for 6 people at a time to die. The tangled net of local, state and federal regulations for constructing and running such a facility (which is another industry in itself) requires such things as 4 foot wide doorways, wheel-in showers, clearance everywhere for wheelchairs and even the beds themselves. Private porches or patios are required amenities, as are multiple spaces for family members to meet, or relax, or fix a meal. The cost of outfitting one room with a state-of-the-art bed from Germany, a nightstand and a fold-out chair for an overnight visitor, patient lift track in the ceiling, headboard with oxygen and suction ports, and other equipment is around $12,000. (All of this for a facility that is supposed to "feel like home".)

We say all of this is for the comfort and "dignity" of those whose lives are coming to an end, but is it really?

Our culture has made dying into an event of major proportions. While we're not creating the drama of cavalry vs. Indian, we're creating a different drama of high technology, complex medical protocols, interacting cocktails of drugs, and elaborate buildings. Why? I think it's because we are so uncomfortable around others' suffering, and with the thought of our own death. Much of what we are doing is meant to relieve our own discomfort around friends and family members who are sick and dying. By "doing everything we can for them" as they now lie dying, somehow we're relieved of our greater responsibilities for taking care of ourselves, each other and the planet: for the food we eat, the air we breathe, the water we drink.

I think Big Nose died an honorable and dignified death. He accepted what was, gave his companions the gift of fulfilling a request, and let himself go.

******* *******

I'd put a small amount of tobacco in my pocket when I left the car, and as I knelt where Big Nose took in those last breaths of fresh air, I put the tobacco under a small piece of sandstone and prayed that the Great Grandfather of the Red Man breathe strength of heart and mind back into his people today, so that they can share with all of us the wisdom of living as a human animal on Earth once again. When we are connected with Life, dying doesn't need to be a battle.

A new Way to Play Monopoly

This is part of a letter from Robert Lovelace from prison. It's time to play a new game on Planet Earth!

"Thank you for your recent letter. Every letter I receive lifts my spirits. I am also lifted up knowing that so many people continue to work for the liberation of the land. This is one of those times where great social change is in the wind. Our vanity is challenged and we are faced with finding a new way to get along and get by.

I have worked at this for a long time. Like playing Monopoly. Almost everyone plays this game. When you play it the way that most people play it then you follow the rules. During the game you cultivate self-interest and even thought the rules say you "may buy" you do it because you don't want someone else to get the advantage. Monopoly is about the way people feel. The consequence of loosing the game is usually an hour or so of depression, maybe unresolved anger, and then surrender and isolation. Even the winner doesn't get a real sense of victory, as the winner is also isolated at the end of the game.
You may know this. Monopoly was invented by a group of socialists in Atlantic City, (I think in the 1930's) as a way to demonstrate the evils of capitalism.
There is another way to play the Monopoly board. If everyone agrees to now buy the property, they can use it without penalty. As everyone completes a circle around the $200 for passing Go represents their annual harvest. When two or more people land on the same space they celebrate by singing and dancing together and when someone lands on free parking everyone has a feast of popcorn and iced tea.
Pretty soon everyone is having such a good time that they don't even use the money, because it's a waste of time; and everyone looks forward to landing on the same "property" with someone else. Instead of capitalists and politicians negotiating deals being the leaders it is the musicians and storytellers who are most respected. I am sure the artist and gardeners, and architects and weavers will want to share their talents as well."

Pretty cool.

This is a drawing I did in honor of Robert Lovelace, who was imprisoned on Februrary 15, 2008 for protesting uranium exploration on Algonquin lands in Ontario.

This is the "change of heart" that the title of this blog refers to.

For more information on the struggle against uranium mining in Ontario, visit www.ccamu.ca

Re-arranging the deck chairs...

I listened to a radio program the other night concerning the controversy surrounding a new Cabela's store in Billings, MT. Three people were invited to represent the differing viewpoints in this "debate". In short, the problem Montanans have with Cabela's is that they've expanded beyond retail sale of hunting and fishing equipment and now have a real estate department (Cabela's Trophy Properties) which sells residential ownership in "hunting preserves" -- i.e. pretty much like a high-end golf course development, except the golf course is replaced by acreage on which the owners can hunt. Apparently, Montanans don't like the idea of private ownership of wildlife.

A few minutes into the program, it struck me that the viewpoints being represented were so close together, and the the underlying, unquestioned assumption was a much more valuable topic for discussion.

So I wrote the program producer/interviewer a letter:

Brian;

I always enjoy your programs because in my mind you do a great job of choosing questions and asking them. What struck me about the views represented on this program is that they all see wildlife as something that humans have a right to "manage"; i.e. wild animals are understood to be the property of humans, to be used as a "resource" for recreation. The ONLY difference among your guests was whether wild animals are the property of the collective political entity, or private owners.

Hmmm. Not a very wide spread of perspectives here!

I realize you probably selected your three guests because they're the ones involved in this "debate". OK, but there really is a lot more at stake here, because that prevailing viewpoint, the one that sees all other life forms on the planet (not to mention the non-living substances such as coal, water and genetic material) as "resources" belonging to humans, is precisely the one that has brought us to the brink of climate chaos, and dare I say, the current US war on Iraq.

Why? When we view something as a resource, it then has a market value and the potential to be abundant or scarce. It's obviously in the best interests of people and companies who "own" such resources to advertise their scarcity and drive up the monetary value. (A barrel of oil cost $25 at the beginning of our invasion of Iraq). In light of what is happening in the polar regions, in our pine and spruce forests, and in Glacier National Park, debating whether or not Cabela's should have "Trophy Property" projects in Montana is a bit like politely discussing what color the soldiers' uniforms should be over tea and crumpets.

What are the alternatives to such a view?

• Traditional Native American understanding of the human place on Earth.
• Eastern philosophies on sentient life.
• Ancient and current Christian views on stewardship.
• 19th C American Transcendentalism (Thoreau, et. al.).
• Mid-20th C American conservation (Leopold).
• Deep Ecology

If you haven't already, I invite you to create a program where the folks who view wildlife as "resources" and those who understand the place of humankind in a much grander planetary scheme have a chance to exchange their views. It would a much more challenging and far-reaching discussion.

This BlogSpace; Compassion and "pets"

     I started this blog to think about the change of heart needed to reverse the climate crisis, end war, eliminate poverty and injustice on this small blue planet.  

    As far as I can tell, we can have an infinite volume of information, technology, data, theories and policies created with our human brains, but until there is a change of heart, nothing will change in the world.  

     It's meaningful to me that Tibetan Buddhists point to the heart when they talk about "mind".   Hmmm.   We in the West think the gray matter "upstairs" is where it's at, and value cleverness and quick thinking over contemplation and "right thinking". 

     Byron Katie says that the problems most of us suffer from as individuals come from believing and acting as though the thoughts in our minds are TRUE.   

     Buddhism, Advaita, Christian mysticism correctly understand the nature of thoughts as more like waves kicked up by a momentary storm on the surface of a deep and silent ocean.  Here one moment, gone the next, of no particular significance.

 

     The problem is, we're so wrapped up in the convolutions of our THINKING that we've stopped FEELING.  We neither feel with our senses - that state of alert, calm awareness of everything inside and out, nor with our hearts.  We've closed down and lost the ability to feel what another being feels and then to act from that place in our hearts to alleviate suffering and to create for the common good rather than for "ME".

     I think we're afraid to feel: afraid we'll be overwhelmed by the pain, the guilt and remorse for having turned away for so long, afraid we're inadequate to do anything about it, afraid to risk discomfort, failure, alienation from friends and family....the list of reasons is long.  At worst, the world's suffering is just an "inconvenient truth" belying our day-to-day business of making a living, finding the right partner, raising families, buying more stuff to fit out the stage set of our lives.....

    Ultimately, though, until we can feel the pain and suffering of the planet, of other life forms, and in our own psyches, we won't have the courage (the word comes from the French "coeur" =heart + rage = strength) to stop our free-fall to extinction.

    When enough hearts are broken, the New Earth will be born.

***********************************************************************

....thinking about "pets".....

     In some circles, having "pets" is politically incorrect, even immoral, because it involves domesticating animals by changing their "natural" behaviors and instincts to accommodate human behaviors.  

     Some people think having pets is wrong because the time spent taking care of them and enjoying them is time NOT spent on "more important" matters like alleviating human suffering or stopping degradation of Earth's biosphere.

     In other circles, pets are all-important, carefully chosen by breed to complement the owner's identity and lifestyle, conspicuously displayed at the local coffee house's outdoor patio.  They're shampooed, manicured, and dressed up for Halloween.

     And then there are working dogs.  Where I live, ranch dogs chase off predators and strangers and --most often these days it seems-- guard dual-wheel diesel F350 flatbed pick-ups in the parking lot of the local bar.

     But there's a deeper connection than any of these appearances reveal.   Running through all of these expressions of the human-animal relationship is the experience of compassion.  Through some combination of biological evolution, arising from the 10,000 or so years of human-animal collaboration, and spiritual connection (after all, the infant Jesus was surrounded by animals in the stable, and the Christian shaman St. Francis communicated directly with animals) humans today have a natural compassion for animals.  We're willing to feel their suffering when they're stranded on rooftops during a flood, dumped at the animal shelter, or used for human "sport" as fighting dogs, while we're less willing to feel, for instance, the pain of soldiers in a foreign war, or the bewilderment and loss of refugees from that war.

     I could speculate about WHY that is so, but I'm presently thinking that exercise is less important than doing something to help "grow" the compassion that people do feel.

     It seems to me that this is fertile ground for cultivating loving-kindness in the world today.  Caring for animals allows people to express compassion.  And when they do it as a part of an animal rescue operation, as a volunteer at a local shelter, or in a prison program, they also have opportunities to practice compassion with people.   

    So if the goal is to "grow" more compassion in the world, why not look for places where there's good soil, and begin there?