The other day I was listening to a lecture on cosmology and evolution by Ilia Delio, noted Franciscan sister, theologian and author. In it she describes our evolution from a nature-based belief system to a mechanistic, anti-nature theology wherein man has primacy over all.
The illusion of our separation from Nature has wreaked havoc on our planet. We are seeing the results of this in the depletion of the world’s resources; landslides due to deforestation, the extinction of species due to habitat loss and over harvesting, the rise in sea levels due to melting glaciers along with the increase in carbon dioxide in our atmosphere. All this, as we at the same time are uncovering new and exciting revelations about our natural world and our inextricable connection to every species on and in it, be it animal, vegetable or mineral.
A few months ago I was walking home from a yoga class when I saw something in the middle of the road. A squirrel, its reddish, gold fur radiating in the sun, lay motionless on the pavement. It was a plump, healthy looking creature with a bushy tail. If not for the pool of blood beneath its head it should have scrambled up and continued its race across the busy road.
I lifted it gently and said a prayer as I laid it to rest beneath a tree. My heart ached. That is the way it is these days, as I see or read about yet another death, mutilation or transgression against the beings that share this land with us. I react as though someone near and dear to me were the victim.
It is a feeling that would not surprise Delio I’m sure. For her, all of creation is so interconnected, so enmeshed we cannot rationally separate ourselves from it.
In her talks on God, Evolution and the Power of Love Delio describes an inspiring world view; one which requires a new religion; a religion that understands divinity, humanity and the cosmos as a deeper, entangled unity, throwing away the dualistic view we have of God and life in general.
The Universe we inhabit, she says, is a continuing expression of God’s love in all things and our purpose is to recognize this and our interconnectedness to all that exists within it. I think I have always known this somehow but it is only now in my wisdom years that I am living it.
Sixty years ago, I read a short story by the writer Ray Bradbury called The Sound of Thunder. In it a group of people travel by Time Machine back to the age of dinosaurs. They can only walk through time on a specific pathway with strict orders to not step off. One tourist disobeys and as a result kills a butterfly. When the group returns to Earth they discover that instead of the democratic leader they had expected to be elected, a tyrant is in power. The story and the outcome it described is known today as “the butterfly effect,” wherein a seemingly small incident can create a massive disruption.
Nature has been providing us with its own testimony to this effect for a century or more. For example, the reduction of the sea otter population due to over hunting in specific areas triggered the overpopulation of their prey, sea urchins. The sea urchins ran rampant and in turn depleted the sea kelp forests which nourish the lives of countless other species endangering the health of the ocean and the humans who rely on its bounty.
On the plus side the re-introduction of forty-one gray wolves to Yellowstone Park in the US in 1995, triggered a chain reaction that revamped its entire eco-system. The wolves were brought back to the park one hundred years after the last of their species had been killed. The new wolves curbed the ballooning elk population that were overgrazing and forced them to change their habits. Soon moose and beaver reappeared. The beaver constructed dams and old streams filled up again and new ones emerged. Rivers changed course and their banks stabilized with new growth. Aspen and willow trees returned as did the grizzly bears and numerous birds and fish species.
I don’t imagine the death of a tiny squirrel on a busy residential street in a mid-sized Canadian city will have a massive impact on the world down the road but do we really know. It is a death that did not go unnoticed by me and that gives comfort. I felt the loss. I felt the senselessness of it and grieved and that is something I am grateful for. It means I am alive. I am aware. I am feeling that eternal connection. And that is its lasting gift and grace.
Bonnie Dickie lives in Winnipeg, the Elm capital of Canada. In a previous life she worked for CBC in Yellowknife, NWT before moving South to freelance as a documentary filmmaker. Her work has taken her across the Arctic as well as China, Africa and Spain. Today she is semi-retired and aside from her dog walking exploits is focused on learning to play the ukulele-a talent she has yet to fully grasp.
