It hadn't occurred to me to clarify it when I made that post. But reading over it, I wonder if it occurs to readers that I mean it very literally, as poetic or visual as I like to arrange the sentiment. And it seems to me important to make that point.

I mean We are the Earth in an osmotic sense, as in a dance of molecules that constantly drift and jump and bridge shells, gaps, membranes, or other means of apparent containment or division (and even those shapes are greatly theoretical and over time, new theoretical shapes are offered); as an ongoing exchange that seeks to achieve an equalization of various unequal concentrations of atoms or molecules, in a breathe in breathe out sort of way; as in no line or wall or fence or border is known in nature that prevents this type of redistribution or conversation or fluctuation or migration of essence, and really, if you want to keep going, is there a reason to believe that our individual sense of identity and consciousness itself is walled off within our skull?

I am not being original when I point out that a compartmentalized self is a Western idea, as it is discussed, this "man vs. nature," as in "I am the bulldozer and you are the tree and the tree is separate and not related to me or my needs," this idea of heirarchy/conquest/domination/separation always cutting its way across our selves. But who cares if its called "Western" or "Elusyiean" or "Oglich." It is a construct. And it is one that would ultimately tell you to cut the pulse out of your wrist to cool down the room.

Yes, I mean "we are the earth" in a poetic sense, of course. But the poetic in this case is one and the same as the "scientific." They both are simply two views on one truth.

Regardless, you don't have to get all intangible and philosophical to know that flooding the ecoysystem with poisons or pollutants or radioctive waste is suicide; that eroding a sense of care and caution for our dear Mother Earth with the decaying shrapnel of our short-sighted greed-based worldviews is what we are doing, and that what we are doing by not prioritizing the planet's health is perverse and insane. No amount of doubletalk or civilized argument can change this. We are much too smart for our own good lately.

We can enjoy the Earth's beauty meanwhile. I know I sure do. And I think we should. But just as Derrick Jensen speaks of in his book The Culture of Make Believe, there is a sense of sadness born from so many realities in this life, by a growing awareness. How can the appreciation for the things of beauty not be touched forever by that awareness? Do not even your most enjoyable meals sometimes suffer the presence of ghostly hands cupped open, by hollowed faces or swollen bellies that you know exist at that very moment? Do not the most serene moments gazing at a mountain's majestic arch into a summer sky sometimes become clouded with countless plumes of toxins and pollutants that you know your species is recklessly producing at every moment?

You feel you owe something an apology, someone. You beg for a chance to do so. Silent earth lies beneath your feet, never complaining, always waiting, always giving.