Sublime

There is a pervasive illusion that, as more of the earth’s biosphere is annihilated or irreparably damaged, human beings can magically disassociate themselves from it and transfer their interdependencies to the mecanosphere of global capitalism.

When nature got too close to humans, it seemed to fester with secrets about how we were all one breath away from falling down and letting the roots of a tree or that stifling network of grass climb over us. And so, momentarily having the upper hand, we cut it, hemmed it, powdered it, and pinned it up.

Then the small trees that got chopped down today wouldn’t go to waste. They added nutrients to the soil and could even prevent landslides. I pondered these things as I followed Iwao back up the slope.

Every discipline discovers its own ecology in time, as it shifts inexorably from the walled gardens of specialized research towards a greater engagement with the wider world.

All homogenization and erosion of localized cultures also erodes ecological integrity and the intelligence that emerges from autonomous intimacy with ancestral place.

Because biophilia is a natural, genetic, and evolutionary process, it will continue to emerge with the same tenacity as weeds breaking through civilization’s sidewalks. Its emergence will be greeted by reductionists with the same dismay that city planners greet those weeds—somewhat like a dinner host greets an uninvited, and rather unruly, guest at