Little Baby Cows

“Wood Wide Web.” It was in an article that reads like a novel of sorts, almost bookish in length going into detail about the network lying under our feet below the few inches that equal soil — someone’s and some other’s experiences investigating it all — the Anthropocene and the microscopic cities being conquered without much alerted knowing or any concern. In it, this passage:

Only one of these recent coinages resonates with me: “species loneliness,” for the intense solitude that we are fashioning for ourselves as we strip the Earth of the other life with which we share it.

Heart breaking in its entirety — the thought of what humans do. Might it be enough to tread so lightly that one could forget about thinking of such things that others do? Once enough is known about how little one can get by with, to just do it and be done with coercing others. Could it be enough to atone the already done-wrong by giving up the pursuit of riches and profits from henceforth and forever? How can any solitary person influence millions to do a thing when they can’t even impact one or two? Is anybody listening? Are they just not ready? Are they off visiting the Nile or on Greta’s bandwagon going who knows where?

There are people who use leaves for toilet paper — not because they have to but because they choose to. That would be a hard one. There are some luxuries that even Russians stood in line for hours to avail themselves a single roll like it was so much gold. Maybe composting ones own waste is an adequate compromise or Who Gives A Crap  a good exchange for the 1000-sheets-per-roll Scott brand that uses new trees instead of recycled paper or bamboo. Maybe a bidet since so much water is wasted making TP anyway — exchange water for trees?

Oh the woes of the world keep tumbling down the conscious stream of mind for those who want to wake up and be not much able to ever sleep again — at least not in very much peace for those who tend to worry.

Christmas bells are ringing and it’s a happy coming diversion. Good will and peace praises will soon be filling the vacuumed spaces of actual doing. It may be okay to escape for moments but not on never-ending repeat. But who’s to say. To each his own. Let’s not get in each other’s way — they say.

Species loneliness — let’s call out names so as not to forget and gather together to have a wake before considering letting the love of all other things and each other go.

It seems impossible to find a place to go where there isn’t always selling or buying — a place where there is just being. All spaces are places that can’t be passed up as an opportunity to find capitalization — marijuana now goes public and the public goes where it goes as long as it’s proceeded by a stock share and judges who know it’s in there better interest to grease the wheels of progress as much if not more than prison filling — depending on the judge’s district and or jurisdiction.

Sometimes isolation isn’t isolation but is preservation of the soul for contemplation. For want of sacred counsel, it seems in one’s best interest now to limit seeking to within a sphere of their own soil and that soil’s microbes — because, certainly the evidence is in now that nobody previously thought to know really does or ever did — at least, not it all. But then, can anybody ever know it all?

A good start would be to start, but there is pizza to be eaten before mourning any of the little baby cows.