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Gaian Rants | ||||
Roots and Rootlessness by Linda Marks Several years ago, I was looking for a housemate. I had put an ad in a Boston paper that was the place to find housemates before the internet became such a force. I was amazed to receive calls from person after person who felt that the one year commitment I was asking for was more than they could manage. “I could consider six months,” sighed a thirty-something woman, “But I don’t know what will happen with my job, and in a year, I don’t know where I will want to be.” “A year!” exclaimed a forty-something man, as though I was asking for the moon, “I can’t possibly commitment to THAT long a timeframe.” There were over a dozen similar responses before I decided not to continue the search. As I thought about it, I realized just how rootless and unsettled peoples’ lives have become in these chaotic and in many ways, dark times. The pace of our culture moves faster and faster. People uproot their lives and travel great distances in a globalized workplace, where no one commits to anyone and the pull is away from community and making connections. In the past twenty years our culture has undergone tremendous transformation. Most people no longer speak of (or expect) lifetime employment, and it’s become the exception rather than the rule, as it once was not all that long ago, to consider settling into a community to build deep roots and connections that will last a lifetime. I was deeply touched recently as I listened to the members of a group I lead talk about the uncertainty in their lives. One woman grieved that she could no longer count on relationships to last over time. Several highly skilled people were struggling financially and professionally, as they tried to find a stable job. Would they have better luck if they left the area? This group, which had made a six month commitment to meet weekly, may have been one of the more consistent forces in many of the members’ lives. Only one man, who owned a house in Vermont in the farming town where he grew up, had a sense of rootedness and continuity, and he had to travel to get it. He worked weekdays in the Boston area and spent weekends in his rural home. Thus, he could still count on being part of a more constant, less transient place, at least part-time. The same people live in his home town now as when he was a kid. Many of the old houses still stand, and so far anyway, the town remains a haven from strip malls and modern housing developments. The pace of life is slower there and he can walk in the woods and find quiet places that remain natural and pure. The Willow and the Maple As we have become disconnected from the Earth, we have become rootless and displaced. Without roots to anchor us to the ground, we are battered by the winds of life. Nature gave me a very graphic illustration of this truth during a hurricane more than fifteen years ago. At that time, I owned a small house in Shrewsbury, MA. Two trees were particularly prominent in my backyard: a large willow and a smaller, compact maple. Willows are relatively quick growing trees with far-reaching but shallow roots. Maples, on the other hand, grow more slowly with a strong taproot that reaches deep into the ground. The evening of the hurricane, I was awakened by the roaring and wailing of the wind and the quaking of the trees. I looked out my window and saw the willow tree swinging wildly. Soon the winds took the willow and the giant tree began to fall over. Its shallow roots were no match for the powerful storm. I ran to my bed for cover and prayed that the tree wouldn’t crash through the roof. Though the house shook ferociously as the tree crashed to the ground, the roof was spared. But a huge constellation of roots was exposed, reaching all the way up to the roof from the ground. Later that night I woke again, this time lightening crackled and sizzled through the air, followed by a great crash. The next morning I ventured into the yard to take stock. I marveled at the willow on the ground with its huge, elaborate, root system unveiled in the air. Then I noticed the maple tree. Lightning had claimed one of its biggest branches but the tree itself survived; its deep root system held it firmly in place. I believe people, like trees, need a taproot, and a solid system of connections anchoring them to the ground. Without a strong root system, how can we be nourished? How can we withstand the winds of life? Rootedness and Soul Survival In this ever-changing, transient world where connections with the Earth, community, and the collective are distant or broken, our very survival becomes threatened. When people hit crises, they fall with no catchment net. They emerge hurt and wounded, sometimes penniless, homeless, and alone. Most species of animals are territorial in at least some ways. They need a place to call their own. Our dog’s crate is his safe space and my cats have established their own zones in the apartment. About a year ago, I took in a seven month old kitten whose primary human could no longer care for her. A solo animal, unable to integrate with the existing tribe of five felines, this new addition found herself searching desperately for a territory to call her own. As the alpha male and even the quietest elderly female cat proceeded to block her efforts to put down roots, the new kitten became increasingly anxious and skittish. How much energy we waste just trying to survive when there is no home base to draw from! We need to join together and address this growing pattern of rootless-ness and we cannot do it alone. We need to restore essential connections with the Earth, with our own spirits, with friends and loved ones, with the community at large, and we need to sustain these connections over time. Our soul survival depends on it! Editor’s note: Gaian Voices invites you to share your stories of becoming rooted in place, of finding and knowing your home. | ||||
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