kinship

I think kinship comes in many different forms. Of course, when we think of kinship, we think of social relationships, family & the like. I think I have a particular kinship towards nature. Let me explain. 

I have felt a very deep sort of connection to the wilds of West Virginia’s countryside for as long as I can remember. The sheer rugged beauty of the mountains cutting through the land; the more-or-less shabby homes dotted throughout the landscape—some on mountaintops, others huddled in valleys.

My grandparents lived there for most of their lives. Their parents lived there. My dad and his siblings lived there. It’s a generational thing.

It’s a set-way of living. It’s a stubbornness to make it on your own, to be self-sufficient, to understand the land you live on, to respect nature in all its forms.

Maybe that’s why I love this place; why I love going back every-once-in-awhile. It’s an escape from reality; an escape from the congested, choking chaos of suburbia and the city.

And, in turn, you are standing in nature instead of a sidewalk.

You are hearing the rush of two rivers blending as one instead of the rush of traffic.

You are feeling cold air whip across your face through bare trees instead of tall buildings.

You are seeing a snow-capped, wooded landscape, wondering if you can find cool animal tracks instead of forests torn down by big corps.

You are pressing your foot against an ice-packed shoreline, cracking the frozen water until it resembles the shattering of glass. I have no comparison here.

Maybe we are meant to enjoy the beauty of creation more than we have. Maybe we should be protecting it. Maybe we should be respecting it. 

I've been a big dreamer in the fact that we can live symbolically with nature, with the creatures within. Survival of the fittest is what is depicted on nature shows. Predator versus prey. But there have been glimpses, there have been moments where predator and prey have burrowed in the same den to survive winter's cold. Where some have existed in the same vicinity and didn't kill the other. I've always thought we as human beings can learn from nature. From its beauty, from its inevitable harshness. Instead, I've seen more and more of us take from it. Whatever we can grab. A hundred acre wood here, a lake to syphon there. 

When Scripture says creation is groaning,1  I believe part of it is how we, the people, have slowly started abusing it. We've, essentially, lost our connection to nature. We've forgotten how we need trees for the oxygen we breathe.  We've forgotten how ecosystems work. We've forgotten so much more. Maybe one day, our culture will get it back on track. Maybe we'll cherish the earth we trend upon instead of continuously cursing it. Maybe we'll understand the connection, the kinship. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe...

"We will be known as a culture that taught and rewarded the amassing of things, that spoke little if at all about the quality of life for people (other people), for dogs, for rivers."2

1. English Standard Bible, Romans 8:22-23, 2001.

2. Of the Empire by Mary Oliver in Devotions, p. 112. 2017.