Transcript: TERRY TEMPEST WILLIAMS on Sacred Rage and the Battle for Public Lands [Encore] /233
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Hello and welcome to For The Wild Podcast. I'm Ayana Young. Today we are rebroadcasting our interview with Terry Tempest Williams. Initially broadcast in October of 2017, in this evergreen episode Terry and discuss public lands and the power of sacred rage. We hope you enjoy this special encore episode.
Terry Tempest Williams I asked him how do you stave off despair, and he said surround yourself with people you love and seek out wild places and then he turned to me and said “we lose nothing by loving”, I believe that.
Ayana Young Terry is an American author, conservationist, and activist. Williams’s writing is rooted in the American West and has been significantly influenced by the arid landscape of her native Utah in which she was raised. Her work ranges from issues of ecology and wilderness preservation to women's health, to exploring our relationship to culture and nature. Williams is the author of Refuge: An Unnatural History of Family and Place, An Unspoken Hunger: Stories from the Field, Desert Quartet, Leap, Red: Passion and Patience in the Desert, and The Open Space of Democracy. Her book Finding Beauty in a Broken World was published in 2008 by Pantheon books.
She divides her time between Wilson, Wyoming and Castle Valley, Utah, where her husband Brooke is field coordinator for the southern Utah wilderness Alliance.
Wow, goodness, thank you so much, Terry, for joining us today.
Terry Tempest Williams It's a pleasure, Ayana, thank you so much for having me.
Ayana Young Terry, I wanted to start off by again, thanking you but specifically for your work as an artist, a writer, and an activist, and how you have taken political measures personally to protect public wild lands. And I think it's absolutely critical right now that we all learn from each other, about how to stand up for these public lands, and to think up to I think 21 national monuments are at threat right now. And Trump appears hell-bent on dismantling public lands to the full extent as he is able. The largest amongst the monuments under threat is Bears Ears, which many predict will be the next Standing Rock if this goes forward. So I'm wondering if you could talk a bit about this latest chapter of the assault on public lands, and why this has got to be stopped. And how we can find those fissures of opportunity to creatively resist and safeguard these last intact treasures.
Terry Tempest Williams It renders me speechless because I still can't wrap my arms around what's happening, but I think it's important to take a long view of backwards and forwards, you know, in a sense, this is nothing new, for the past three decades, we've been fighting for our public lands, especially in the interior West, in Utah particularly, whether it's the Sagebrush Rebellion that we saw in the 70s and 80s, whether it was the Forest Wars that we saw in the 90s, this is just a reoccurring theme and incarnation of the desire for the extractive industry to privatize our public lands. The thing that makes this incarnation so frightening is we have a president who not only doesn't care about these public lands, I doubt he's ever set foot in them. And in that sense, people like Orrin Hatch, and Rob Bishop, and Chaffetz, who are Utah's delegation, have exorbitant sway. And then you have someone as weak as Interior Secretary Zinke who pretends that he's in the likelihood or in the same fabric as Theodore Roosevelt and nothing could be farther from the truth. He rides in on the first day in Washington, on a horse - in fact, he lives in a gated community in Santa Barbara.
So I think we have to put things in perspective. In terms of the monuments, again this is tailored for Utah, the parameters of these 27 monuments that are under review began in 1996 and they end in 2016. This was tailored and fashioned by Orrin Hatch. It begins with Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument in 1996, and it ends with Bears Ears, he's never gotten over the fact that these lines were protected. You know, these are acts of revenge and pettiness and nastiness all at the pleasure and profit of the oil and gas industries. So that's sort of my take on the background. I also think it's really important for our listeners to actually hear these names because there's power in names. And just to contemplate where these are, and what states they belong to. And in fact, they belong to all of us. Our public lands are our public commons.
So these are monuments with over 100,000 acres and in many cases, several million: Baseman Range, Nevada. Bears Ears, Utah. Berryessa Snow Mountain, California. Canyons of the Ancients, Colorado. Carrizo Plain, California. Cascade-Siskiyou, Oregon. Craters of the Moon, Idaho - that was established in 1924, it's just hard to imagine. Giant Sequoia, California. Gold Butte, Nevada. Grand Canyon-Parashant, Arizona. Grand Staircase-Escalante, Utah. Hanford Reach, Washington. Ironwood Forest, Arizona. Mojave Trails, California. Organ Mountains - Desert Peaks, New Mexico. Rio Grande del Norte, New Mexico. Sand to Snow, California. San Gabriel Mountains, California. Sonoran Desert, Arizona. Upper Missouri River Breaks, Montana. Vermilion Cliffs, Arizona. And we can add to Katahdin Woods and Waters in Maine.
So that’s the list, and for those of us who know and lose these places it’s more than a heat break - it’s a tragedy. But what's interesting to note is that over a million citizens have sent in their comments already and have said, we do not want these monuments rescinded or reduced, we want to protect them. So the question remains, will these open spaces of democracy remain open?
Ayana Young That was so powerful, Terry, to hear you speak the names and locations of the monuments thank you for speaking the names aloud and I just felt chills all over my body imagining - I've been to many of those incredible gifts that I feel that they're on this planet for us to care for, and steward, and be inspired by, and be fed by. So thank you again for that. And I want to also question how can we find those fissures of opportunity to creatively resist and safeguard these last intact treasures. And I know that you and Tim DeChristopher and many others have found those fissures and I'd like to speak on that for a bit and any ideas that are swirling in your head for those people in the audience who want to take a grandstand.
Terry Tempest Williams You know, I'm not sure the grandstand is what is needed. I think that small, deliberate focused acts within our own communities and the places we call home, in many ways are the most powerful, Ayana. And, you know, going back to Bears Ears, it's been such a potent experience for conservationists in Utah and really around the country because what we've been able to witness and learn from and be inspired by have been the Tribes and the tribal leadership that has come forward through the five inter-tribal commission's that has led the way for Bears Ears National Monument, and that President Obama responded to, as did Sally Jewell in 2016. You have the Navajo, you have the Hopi, Zuni, and the two Ute Nations who have come together and said, “You know, these lands are sacred. These are the lands of our homecoming. These are the lands where the bones of our ancestors are buried. And in those canyons that rise upward like praying hands, we can still hear the voices of our ancestors singing through the wind.” This is where their ceremonies take place. This is where they gather their medicines. And, you know, over 100,000 different artifacts are buried there: exposed, hidden in the alcoves. There is a painted language that resides on the walls in petroglyphs and pictographs. So it is powerful country, the Tribes have led the way.
The fact that Secretary Zinke showed up for four days. Let's give him five. Do you know how long he spent with the tribal members? He spent one hour, in a room without windows, in Salt Lake City. He and his entourage with Orrin Hatch, Rob Bishop, county commissioners from San Juan County, arrived at the airport in Blanding, they were met by another county commissioner, who had five horses and five white hats ready to go. The hats that read, “Make San Juan County Great Again”, who do you think he listened to? And after being there for four days, he came out and said it's too big. It's too big for protection. It's too big for the Tribes, too big for the community of the wild, the animals, the plants, but it's certainly not too big for the oil and gas industry that has its claim there.
So I just wanted to go back to your original question of what's at stake. So what can we do? I think that each of us with the gifts that are ours, in the places we call home, need to stretch, expand and deepen our engagement. In so often we think who is our leader, we're looking for one person when in fact, I think in the 21st century, it's not about one person or one grand gesture. But I think it's about community, and all of us working together, again, with the gifts that are ours, each in our own time, each in our own way. To me, that is the way forward.
Ayana Young I agree with that, Terry, that if we're using our own gifts and passions, locally, we have a lot of power in that way. I want to start directing the conversation, from the Monuments to some of the other issues that have plagued the Southwest, which is the relationship between environmentalists and ranchers. And you wrote something to the effect of “A sense of place leads to an ethic of place”, and the ranching community clings to an ethic of autonomy, an ethic of self, and as they grab for more and more public land, but without a knowledge of ecology and the ethics of stewardship, the short term gains are finite and it seems we are now reaching that limit. Would you agree that the ranchers versus environmentalist battle is now verging on obsolescence as climate pulls the rug from under ranchers with land degradation, water shortages, and economic breakdown, etc. outweighing the tepid threat environmentalist had posed in the past?
Terry Tempest Williams You know, I actually don't agree with that, Ayana. I think it's too simple. You know, I don't think it's fair to label all ranchers in the form of the Bundy’s. You know, we saw their standoff, that family, that clan at Malheur National Wildlife Refuge, and some of them have been sentenced, some of them have not, one of them was killed. You know, it was in a terrible situation. And we all were very aware of the injustices. I mean, we're talking cowboys. And I mean that in the most rogue sense. And, you know, if those had been Native people, if those had been environmentalist, if those have been Black people, Brown people, we know that it would have a very different outcome. So there's that. And I think they're on the extreme.
I know, so many ranchers and farmers who love public lands, who pay their fees, who are really trying to work with land trusts, and easements, to be good stewards. So I think it's complicated. You know, certainly, there are those that aren't the best stewards, but I just, I don't see them as the enemy. I really don't. I think what we have to do in our communities is work together. I think environmentalists, conservationists, ranchers, farmers, and I would even argue developers and the different agencies, the Park Service, the BLM, the Forest Service, we all have to come together and really say, what is the sustainable vision, and that takes time. It takes affection and commitment. It has ground rules, where we may agree to disagree. And there are some things maybe we won't compromise on. But that's the process that I'm interested in seeing. There's also the issue of tourism and Ed Abbey was a great advocate talking about industrial tourism, and anyone that has been to Yellowstone National Park, or Arches, or Zion in Utah, understands what that is - Yosemite, Grand Canyon, we're loving our parks to death. Why? I would argue because the need is greater than it's ever been. Certainly, there are more of us. So I think it's this mosaic, and how do we really look at all the pieces and create a whole? That's, to me, the real issue, especially as you suggest, with climate change, with drought, with all of the compounding issues that are facing us at this moment in time.
Ayana Young Yes, I think, coming together and this mosaic framework that you speak about is really the only way forward in so many ways and I absolutely agree that it is, there's no simple way forward. But many voices need to be at the table and not just the people in power in the government, but local people, Tribes, ranchers, environmentalists, so that there can be face to face conversations to bring everybody's gifts and understandings and experiences so that we can move forward. Because with climate change, and industrial tourism, and the list goes on and on, we are losing the resilience of these places that we love. And I'm wondering, speaking of that, how has the ecological health of the Great Basin fared within the web of extraction and development? And where does her resilience lie, that we can get behind as we face climate extremes and other stressors brought on by humanity?
Terry Tempest Williams It's such a good question. And, you know, I'm not a biologist. I'm not a scientist. You know, when I think about the Great Basin, you know, what I really think about are all of the nerve gas that's buried out there, I think about the munitions that are buried out of there. And the kind of surreal tanks that are out there in army maneuvers. You know, certainly, in Utah, we're facing drought. Great Salt Lake is at its all-time low. The birds are not there in the numbers that they used to be - pelicans are taking a huge hit, because of predation that hasn't been there for decades, because Gunnison Island, which is their nesting area, has been an island. It's not an island anymore. So you've got coyotes, you know, crossing the lake bed and ravaging the nest. And then you have the juvenile pelicans that are then flying prematurely, but can't make it to freshwater where their parents are and so, last time I was out at Great Salt Lake, I counted over 60 dead, juvenile pelicans. And I couldn't imagine what had happened and talking to the Division of Wildlife Resources, learned this is the situation. So stressed is the right word.
The Colorado Plateau. That's another story. You know, if we had a raven’s point of view, an aerial view, it looks like an exposed nervous system with all the infrastructure, the roads, the pads, the oil and gas rigs, the flares at night. It's a heartbreak, you know, you go into the Uinta Basin, and it's worse. You see fracking, the infant mortality rate has skyrocketed because of fracking. Water poisoned in states like Wyoming. Again, it's connecting the dots. It's not just one community. But when you start looking at the collective in the interior West, I can't believe what I'm seeing just in my lifetime. Again, I think it's why public lands matters so much, Ayana. You know, they're breathing spaces in a society that is increasingly holding its breath. So I do think we have to fight for these lands. And I'm so encouraged in that this is front and center of a new conversation. There's people in the East that have no knowledge of what public lands are because it's privatized in the East. They don't exist. Same with the Midwest. They've been plowed under. So I think people are finally coming to understand that we have a great heritage. These are not just public lands, but there our public stories, our natural histories, and our cultural histories. And that's very, very powerful to the identities of Americans.
Ayana Young The American Southwest has inspired and moved many people as its home to the pinon pine and the juniper forests that have inched their way too old-growth almost in slow motion. You know a 60 foot Juniper can be hundreds of years old and support an ensemble of over 450 plant species. And I believe that the first wholesale assault on the Great Basin ecosystems was by the charcoal industry, which peaked in the late 1800s. Forests were gobbled up whole, clear cut, and since the land has been slowly healing and regrowing, until more recently that the BLM and the Forest Service made the claim that this new growth is invading greater sage grouse habitat and wetlands. And thus a new wave of destruction has come into the Great Basin. You know, in the meantime, the lowly handsaw has been trumped by more imaginative means of destruction, and I am horrified and was horrified to learn that the most common way these ecosystems are cleared today is by stretching a battleship anchor chain, between two enormous earthmovers, and tearing up anything that protrudes from the Earth’s surface. So I'm wondering, how is this abomination justified? And are you aware of any other strokes of brilliance in this field of eco side?
Terry Tempest Williams You know, I remember, it must have been in the late 80s, early 90s, in Moab, when campsite areas seldom seen of Edward Abbey's Monkey Wrench Gang, where many of us stood in front of those bulldozers that we're going to do exactly what you're speaking of, that chaining. And, you know, again, I just am rendered speechless. It's, it's the flavor of the day in terms of management. And what concerns me most is just again, I can't even find the word it's, it's not one thing, it's all of the things and I just keep thinking as a child, there was so much sage, it put me to sleep, you know, you drive and you drive and you drive and the tallest, you know, tree or plant on the horizon was sage. And then you’d see the magnificent Juniper, twisted and gnarled shaped by the wind or, or the beautiful pinons that would yield those wonderful nuts that we would gather as children.
And now, just what you're saying, the sagebrush steppe is an endangered ecosystem. And here we have an administration that wants to undo the protections that were a collaborative means of conservation management, you know, through the state government, through the federal government, through conservation, the Tribes, and local communities - to protect the sage grouse. Now they want to undo all of that. Why?
A few years ago, someone in Washington D.C., a ludicrous question, but they said, “Who do you think is the most powerful person in the West right now, who has the most influence? “And I said, “The sage grouse.” And they laughed, and they said,” No, No, I'm serious.” And I said, “So am I.” Because the sage grouse has been the only species, the only individual, between the help of the land and the absolute abject rapacious appetite of the fossil fuel industry. You take out sage grouse, and it's open field development. So those are some of my concerns. And again, just what you're saying, you know, add drought to that, add development to that, add climate to that, add cows to that, alongside, you know, these kinds of antiquated practices of chaining and, you know, you've really got an abused landscape.
Ayana Young When I think about the abuse landscape that you're speaking of, and I connect it to the abused landscapes of the Pacific Northwest forests, the temperate rain forests, the old-growth that's being slaughtered there, down to the Amazon, up to the Boreal, we are in a time of mass extinctions. And in your talk at Bioneers, you spoke of the need for connectivity of wildness, for evolution and resilience to continue. And you said this quote that has chilled me since I heard it. And it was that “Death is one thing, but an end to birth is something else.” So can you speak of the end of biological evolution? And how deep into the unraveling process do you believe we're in? And I mean, can we even know from our vantage?
Terry Tempest Williams You know, that quote is from the great conservation biologist, Michael Soule, and that was a revelation to me, too. We talk about the end of species but rarely do we talk about the beginning of new species or the evolutionary process. And that's what he's talking about. And, you know, I want to say to you Ayana, how much I appreciate your courage because we're talking about really hard things. And, you know, I think it's in our nature to want to be helpful, to want to be optimistic, but I think unless we really face the reality of where we are, at this moment in time, call it the Anthropocene - where human beings do have this extraordinary press on the planet right now, then we really can't go forward with the courage and the open eyes and open heart that is going to be required to make the necessary changes.
You know, I, honestly, I've taken hope out of my vocabulary, it's not that I'm not helpful is that I don't think it's helpful. And rather than hope, I choose to think about faith, I have tremendous faith in our capacity to change, I have tremendous faith, in the power of consciousness. I have tremendous faith in the works of people to make very quick changes. But we're up against a capitalistic society, not just the United States, but China, and every other country that wants the same kind of lifestyle that we have. So when Donald Trump says at the G20 gathering, you know, “Western civilization is at risk.” He's right, but not in a way that he thinks, you know, and he said, “Our lifestyle is at risk.” He's right, but not for the reasons. If we want to survive as a species, in fellowship with other species, we are going to have to shift our point of view and become more empathetic, become more unselfish, think about what sacrifice means, in a spiritual sense, and what the spiritual implications are of climate change. But we're still in the stage of denial. We're in denial of death. We're in denial of where we find ourselves now, and that there is a real-world, and it is really dying right now. And what concerns me most are those that have no voice. And those are the birds. Those are the plants. Those are the moss, those are the elephants, all of the creatures among us who are struggling. And that's what I'm concerned about.
So how do we come together? You know, how do we take, on one hand, all that modernity has given us and how do we take, on the other hand, a spiritual reality that we must begin to embrace that we are not the only species that lives and breathes and loves and grieves on this planet, and how do we bring these two hands together in prayer. I'm not talking about religion, I'm talking about spiritual consciousness that I think we are going to have to embrace, if we are going to evolve to a species that dares to love, even in the face of death, even in the face of mass extinction, even in the face of our own complicity.
Ayana Young That was so beautiful, Terry, and it has been a feeling that I have felt so many times, whether it's seeing this collective denial that I myself was grown and conditioned in to - breaking away from that, and then learning how to not shy away from the truth. Because I felt very early on when I started to awaken to the realities of the world that for me to love the world, that meant I had to understand what was happening, and not shy away from the pain because the Earth, and all creatures are feeling this pain at least I believe that, and I wanted to actually show up in a relationship that I could hold, not just my own pain, but the pain of the other species as well. And so I think it's almost this intense gift to learn to love in the face of collapse, and how passionate and alive I believe humans can feel when we start really awakening to these realities and being present with them. And I think about this biological cessation that you were mentioning earlier, and the end of birth is something else. And I certainly think that this casts a new light on the human experiment, and now, you know, not only have we seen a slowing or ceasing of biological evolution, but a deep regression in cultural evolution and so I'm wondering how our wild spaces and wilderness fundamental to our creativity as a species, and to our sense of direction, amid the confusion?
Terry Tempest Williams It's such a great question, you know, I think of a story, not long ago, I was talking with a young woman who grew up in the western Everglades in Florida, and she said, you know, we used to have two seasons in the Everglades and as a child, I looked forward to both. We had the dry season and we had the rainy season and in both, you know, there were gifts. Now we have only the wet season. And she said, “What am I supposed to do Terry, as I watch my own home ground flood, and I know that in the not so distant future, the Everglades, which is my identity - with these long-legged birds, you know, how am I to grieve? You know, how am I to move forward knowing what is going to be lost?” And I really didn't have an answer for her, you know all I could say was to bear witness is not a passive act, but an act of conscience, and consequence. And you know to have the strength not to avert our gaze, as you said, to not look away. In the same way, when those of us who have been with loved ones who are in the process of dying, we don't walk away. We stay and we hold them, and we listen to them, and we cry with them. And we know this is the process of life that we are in.
Half of my family is gone. And I've had the privilege of being with them in those dying moments. It's not easy, but it is about being present, and the gift of the consciousness of knowing we are finite, I have no doubt that the Earth will survive us. But it will be a changed Earth. And it's not without its sorrow. You know, I'm reading this terrific book, maybe you've read it Staying With The Trouble by Donna Haraway. And she talks about the importance of multi-species justice, and how our task as human beings, right now, is to make trouble. And I love that, you know, whether it's direct action, whether it's buying oil and gas leases, whether it's committing civil disobedience, whether it's holding prayers, as so many did, and also offer support and presence at Standing Rock, you know, what may be asked of us with Bears Ears, to really look at this kinship, that is ours and how we are redefining family. And I know for me, my sense of family is not just exclusive to my own species, not at all. You know when I hear the hermit thrush singing in the morning and at night, even between intervals of thunder, that is my kin. That is my voice too.
Ayana Young I just imagined thunder being kin and my heart picked up a beat. I wanted to read a quote that I had written down from you, “Cynicism thrives in air conditioned rooms. Like any true place, the desert is a risk.” And elsewhere you write, “Desert strategies are useful in times of drought. Pull your resources inward. When water is scarce, find moisture and seeds to stay strong and supple, send a taproot down deep. Run when required, hide when necessary. When hot, go underground, do not fear darkness. It's where one comes alive.” And it's just reminding me of what we were talking about with not shying away from the darkness and this fear of death. And as desertification is becoming an undeniable pattern of civilization, this advice, if taken literally, could be life saving for a lot of people. You know, I do suspect, however, that there's a more metaphorical layer under these words, like most of us do fear darkness, and the end of cheap energy and life as we know it, our screens going dark. And civilization gives us the option to burrow in our comfort zones. But in the wild, fear and risk, make you think fast, and act fast, and with courage. So what would be the upshot, if we all learned to embrace risk taking and fear as creative forces?
Terry Tempest Williams I love that. You know, who knows? I mean, that's the thing, each landscape, each ecotone, each ecosystem, you know I view them as our teachers, and the keyword for me is being humble. Which has its roots in hummus, Earth, and being teachable. You know, we think we know so much, we have these brains. And it's true, we do. But I think more than that, we're still animals, and we still are part of something so much larger than ourselves, and to remember that you know, the desert is not a void. It is my unknowing. And I think it's that unknowing. That puts us on equal ground with other species. And that's a beautiful thing. And the world is so beautiful. And every day I set for myself some encounter with wildness, whether it's a praying mantis in Manhattan, whether it's, you know, hearing the wingbeats of raven, in Castle Valley, where we live, or, you know, watching bison in the Lamar Valley or the Grunion Run, you know, those flashing scales coming up with the tide on the Pacific coast. I mean, it's just, it's endless. Spring peepers, you know, in the northeast. I mean, the Indiana Dunes, I mean, we are so blessed by these wild spaces. And I've come to really cherish how beauty is its own form of resistance, to have a living knowledge of beauty and wildness. And that sense of humility, that sense of fear that you speak of and darkness, where we on our edge and we can use our night vision.
Ayana Young I'd like to read another quote, “Our fear of being touched removes us from a sensate world, the distant self becomes the detached self, who no longer believes in anything.” When you look around a crowded street and see how alienated people have become from one another, and from their own selves through hyper consumption of empty products, and you see how we have no command of our autonomy, it's beyond choosing between products or careers, or religions or politicians. So could you speak about the illusion of choice in modern society, and give some advice to the huge contingency of millennials who don't believe the myth of progress and seek a radically different reality?
Terry Tempest Williams You tell me, I'm so interested in the millennials, and I, you know, I know my students, and I love them so much. And in so many ways, there's so much farther ahead than I am. So I turn to you, because I think you're speaking a different vocabulary and I think you're on so many levels, so much braver than certainly my generation. How old are you?
Ayana Young Well, I am turning 30 in a matter of days,
Terry Tempest Williams I mean, to me, your wisdom, you know, your beautiful ambition to talk about these ideas, and to have this forum. I mean, I am just in awe of you. And this is what I'm seeing with your generation and that's why, you know, I bow to you. I mean, you are my teachers, and I am so aware of what I don't know. You know, in many ways, I think my generations task is to get out of the way so that you can flourish. And, you know, what I see is that you are holding this pragmatic vision, I see you as pragmatic visionaries. So, talk to me, you know, talk to me, what are you using? What is it that you want to create?
Ayana Young Well, personally, I am married to the temperate rain forests and my vision is to serve the land in whatever way they direct me and so far, that direction has been in the form of a native species nursery to enhance biodiversity, to sequester carbon, and help with climate mitigation. So I see this interplay between the philosophical wanderings and this cultural shift, that can happen in meetings and celebrations, in combination with the tangible restoration of land, in combination with tangible conservation of land. And I think that I am very lucky, very privileged to even be able to consider these things because I think a lot of people, whether they don't have the privilege, or they're just stuck in the conditioning, of this dominant lie of abundance, that isn't true abundance or this, you know, these choices, if you do these choices, this will bring you fulfillment, but the fulfillment that the dominant culture is selling us is all about, really narcissism, and I have never found that just serving the self is fulfilling at all. And so I think that is this large lie held over many people's heads to just focus on the self or the nuclear family and to have these certain steps, certain chapters in your life that you get to this, whether it's the white picket fence and the two kids or whatever it is, but it doesn't make sense in the reality that we're facing. And not to say that we can't have families. But it's more than that.
And what we're facing is monumental. And so it's this monumental challenge of creativity at the same time, how are we going to step up to the task that we are being handed in a way that is in love, and in rapture and in passion, and focused and clear, and intelligent? And, you know, one thing that I've really been learning a lot lately with building this native species nursery, is, even if you do have good intentions, even if you want to make all of the best choices and the most integrity, the system that we are in does not make eco, “eco-friend” choices affordable, convenient, easy, it's just amazing, even just to grow trees, how challenging it is to make decisions that are not hurting another land somewhere else.
So I've been thinking about this question a lot, just what are our choices at this point? And how do we not get stuck and so how I move through the Anthropocene is falling more deeply in love every day with what is still here. And with what I can imagine coming back if we support and tenderly care for the land, and I think about the word wildness, and I know it's come up a lot, you know, in your writing, and I think I mean, it's For The Wild, so I very much am connected to that word. But I've heard from some people, the word wildness can be construed into a lot of different meanings. I've heard from some other people I've had in the podcast like, “Oh, well, the wildness is this term used from colonialist”, or people that aren't familiar with the land, and so it's separating - if something's wild, that means we're not wild and wild is something that you don't touch or humans don't touch. But then I think about tending the wild, there's a book about California Native people and how they were able to steward the land and actually enhanced biodiversity and so I wanted to talk to you about your connection to the word wild, and your connection and your definition of what you feel when you hear that word.
Terry Tempest Williams First of all, I just want to thank you, because I just think you have shared such wisdom and again, practical and visionary. And I just so honor what you're doing. And this is what I'm talking about, I think what you know, we need to hear. And I will talk about wildness and wilderness. But you know, I have a question just to follow up after listening to what you have just so beautifully articulated in terms of your own life's work. Do you feel angry?
Ayana Young I call it sacred rage. And yes, I feel angry. My blood boils. But I take that anger. And it honestly just turns into this passionate love. Because I don't know if this is what a mother bear feels like, but yeah, I feel angry, but the anger is so much energy and that energy can be used to just push something forward. So I'm not upset when I feel that, well, I don't know if upset is the correct word, but it doesn't get me down. It just fuels my fire.
Terry Tempest Williams I feel the same way. And I too call it sacred rage. You know, how many times as women have we been told, calm down, you know, “You're irrational.” “You're angry.” And I am angry. I am furious, you know. And over the winter, especially with the election and knowing what was coming down. I thought, okay, I've got to get a grip. Everyone says I've got too much fire, I'm too angry. And then I thought with a name like Tempest, I'm hopeless. So I went and ordered I swear 12 books on anger, Dance of Anger, Anger and Compassion, Love Your Enemies, I mean you should see my library. And I started reading them with, you know, my red pencil and really being studious about it. I got so angry at what I was reading, I just thought, okay, stop. And I do think anger is a focused force. And I do think if we can take our anger and channel it into something powerful and direct it does, and it can become sacred rage and sacred acts of resistance. And I also feel that you know, there is fire in the wild, in forests, in the desert, it's a hot fire and it roars and it's fast, you know, in grasslands. And I think there's a real purpose for that in the same way that there's a purpose for water. It's all elemental, you know, water seeping in every crack and cranny, you know, to where it has the power to crack stone.
So again all these elements around us that that give us clues. You know, you asked me what is my definition of wilderness or wildness and it's Thoreau's 200th anniversary this year, and of course, In Wildness Is the Preservation of the World, he writes, and I understand you know, the critics who say that, you know, the wilderness has become irrelevant before it's become resolved, and wilderness is a political term, a colonial term, but I also think it's a limitation of language. When I think about wild country, big country, the country that we still have in the West, and in our forests, and deserts, and mountains, and meadows, and wetlands, and oceans, and seashores, and rivers. To me, this is the taproot of consciousness. It is where we have evolved. And it is where we are continuing to evolve, and we cannot separate ourselves from it. That's the key. It isn't something outside of human beings. It's inside of us as well. And I think it's this convergence of the inner and outer wilderness that that is so crucial right now to make peace with.
And yes, there's the protected wilderness. And yes, we can find wildness everywhere. But I think it's seeing the world whole, even holy, and fighting for the remaining land that is there, and the animals, and the ecosystems that are, as you said, stressed and suffering in the same way that we are. I heard the most beautiful story may share it?
Ayana Young Please. Yes.
Terry Tempest Williams There's a biologist, named Sue Beatty, and she's the chief botanist in Yosemite National Park. I met her last year at the centennial of the National Park Service and I was so moved by her story. As you know, the Mariposa Grove has been under restoration for the last five years, I think it's to open this year, this summer. Anyway, she told me this incredible story and this is how I remember it, you know, one day she was on patrol, she was walking through the Mariposa Grove, as she always does - loving the big trees, 1000s of years old, talk about Elders. And she heard something and she stopped, and what came into her heart was that the trees were stressed, that the trees were suffering, that they were in fact speaking to her.
You know, how do you take that instinct, that intuition, that feeling, and translate it into science, as a botanist charged with the health and wealth of a particular National Park, the Mariposa Grove, really the first public lands we had protected by Abraham Lincoln after the worst battle in the Civil War. 1864 he created the Yosemite Land Act to protect the Yosemite Valley and the Mariposa Grove. While she went back with her team, and they did science, they did research, they did their statistics, they did their analysis, and looked at the Mariposa Grove, and the health of the big trees, sequoias. And in fact, they were suffering, not just from drought, but from having their roots, you know, trampled to death, by asphalt, by trams, trolleys, by cars by millions of visitors feet for decades over time. So what could relieve that stress? What could alleviate the suffering of these giant trees, these Elders?
She thought, what if this sacred grove of trees 1000s of years old, what if it no longer was a place of entertainment, but a place of contemplation? What if it was no longer about recreation, but restoration. And so with the superintendent and with supporters of the Mariposa Grove, it was agreed that over time, the asphalt would be removed, there would no longer be the buses, the trolleys, entertainment, noise, unconscious, walking, but rather soft Earth would be reinstated, the routes would be freed, new paths would be made and it would become a place of solitude, contemplation, restoration, and reverence. And that is what is happening so that now, the Mariposa Grove, is a breathing space, and that the trees will be able to hear, don't you love that?
Ayana Young I do love that. And I think it's such an important understanding that land is not there just for our recreation, or for our resource extraction as humans or for anything, but it's also a relationship. And when you kept saying that the trees were Elders, I thought about grandparents and, you know, an Elder needs a rest every now and then and if an Elder was being chatted with 24 hours a day and questioned and made to do this, that and the other, they would get exhausted and maybe ill even from that. So being able to put this kinship, well this relational understanding of land, and how we can interact in a way that is loving and considerate and respectful, and not just about our needs, but about the lands needs is such a huge shift.
Terry Tempest Williams Exactly and you know, we keep thinking, what can one person do? Well, Sue Beatty did a lot. And it goes back to that idea again, what do we do? What's our gift? What's my gift? What's your gift? How do we deepen it? How do we listen? How do we take it to the next level? Sue Beatty, a botanist listened, and she listened to the trees and it made all the difference. And she shifted. I mean, it's like a chiropractic shift. That, to me, is what is required. So that again, each of us in our own way, with the gifts that are ours, can make an enormous difference in the places we call home. That truly is where my faith lies and, you know, that, to me, is the challenge. It's not the big grand gestures, although hers was, but these small moments where we stop, we pause, we listen, we contemplate and then we reimagine.
It goes back to what you were saying, acts of the imagination that loom large as we make these shifts, recognizing, as you said, that our institutions are no longer working for us. The notion of the nuclear family is a myth. But how do we expand our sense of family, expand our sense of community, to both human and wild? And if we take care of that in our own sphere, and circle of reference, then the Earth will be held. And we will be transformed in the process. I really believe that. You know, when I was in school, in biology, you know, the big nono was anthropomorphism. But then now I'm thinking, you know how arrogant to assume that we're the only animals that can feel or think or dream or grieve? We know that isn't true.
Ayana Young Thank you, Terry. Thank you for your exquisite words, and walking your prayer, and leading by example, and courageously using your knowledge and privilege and your gifts to protect these places that hold us all. Thank you.
Terry Tempest Williams And thank you for your wisdom and happy birthday. You know, and I just, I remember Doug Peacock, at a low moment - I just love him so much, who’s you know George Washington Hayduke, the inspiration for Abbey’s Monkey Wrench Gang, the character who blew up Glen Canyon Dam, I asked him, “How do you stave off despair?” And he said, “Surround yourself with people you love and seek out wild places.” And then he turned to me and said, “We lose nothing by loving.” I believe that.
Francesca Glaspell Thank you for listening to For The Wild Podcast. The music you heard today was by Buffalo Rose, Kendra Swanson, and Aviva le Fey. This episode of For The Wild was created by Reach Out, Madison Magalski, and Molly Leebove.