Strawberries first shaped my view of a world full of gifts simply scattered at your feet. A gift comes to you through no action of your own, free, having moved toward you without your beckoning. It is not a reward; you cannot earn it, or call it to you, or even deserve it. And yet it appears. Your only role is to be open-eyed and present. Gifts exist in a realm of humility and mystery..
from “Braiding Sweetgrass” by Robin Wall Kimmerer
On an unseasonably warm spring day, I am out for a walk in the neighborhood. The sky is clear and blue, the light is soft. I am listening to the book “Braiding Sweetgrass” as I walk. The book has been on my shelf for a couple of years, since I had intended to read it when our racial justice book club took it up. Since it was also coming up in my own non-church book club, I’d decided it was time to get into it. So I checked out the audiobook from the library and started listening on my daily walks. As an added bonus, the audio book is read by the author, Robin Wall Kimmerer, so in the best sense it has taken on the quality of a conversation.
Suddenly I found myself on a city block where I was captivated by the transcendent beauty of nature. The grape hyacinth was still in bloom, but so were the daffodils and tulips. The trees were blossoming in abundance. Every house, every yard, seemed to sparkle with perfection. It was a moment when the fullness of spring was shining forth, and everything my eyes feasted on was a gift. I wasn’t gazing out from a mountain top or listening to the crash of waves on the shore, but the majesty of nature was laid out before me on this simple city street, and I was overcome with gratitude.
Over the next few weeks I continued to listen to “Braiding Sweetgrass” as I walked, and was continually amazed by its gentle wisdom. Kimmerer speaks often of the difficulties faced by Indigenous people in the United States—the theft of land, the broken treaties, the determined eradication of their culture through boarding schools and policies. And yet, she speaks gently, straightforwardly—all the more convincingly because of her gentleness. She contrasts the gift economy of Indigenous culture with the market economy that is often driven by greed rather than gratitude.
If we regard the earth and the entire universe as a gift, then we are inspired by gratitude to reciprocate. The gift of creation calls us into relationship and inspires us to stewardship. At one point in her book, Kimmerer states that, “All abundance is mutual.” I believe what she is trying to instill in us is the idea that abundant care for the earth and its people is possible if we let go of our attachment to property and focus on our interdependence. Toward the end of the book, Kimmerer points out that, “Grain may rot in the warehouse while hungry people starve because they cannot pay for it. The result is famine for some and diseases of excess for others. The very earth that sustains us is being destroyed to fuel injustice.”
Throughout her book, Kimmerer considers the alternatives of hope and despair. Often, as we consider the difficulties we face because of climate change, combined with greed and corruption, it is tempting to retreat to feelings of despair. And yet, she points out how time and again, with help from humans, the earth can heal herself. If we take whatever small actions are possible, then collectively we can begin to make a difference. Whether it is small steps like reducing our use of plastics, or finding alternate ways of transportation that use less gas, or bigger steps like investing in carbon offsets or challenging corporations—our actions can help to heal the earth and cement our relationships with nature and each other.
“Braiding Sweetgrass” is a loving exploration of the beauty and generosity of nature. It reinforces the importance of recognizing that we are not meant to disregard the effects of our actions on the earth. We have an obligation to reciprocate with appreciation and care for these amazing gifts.
Earth Day is every day.
This post is offered up in appreciation of our Sacred Earth Ministry and the stalwart work of the volunteers who steward this work and help us to recognize our sacred interdependence.
Thank you Virginia for this beautiful post!
I read each of your posts, VF, with appreciation. Hope is a theme in this and the last. Often those with the most hope are the ones we think should have the least. Our comfort, ease and plenty so often don’t lead us to hope.