[SInce this wasn’t satire, I submitted it anonymously under the pen name David Morningmist, which I’d never used before. In this case, I had to make myself known to members of the Emory Wheel staff, specifically a couple of students who were in my Sociology class that quarter. I met them at lunch, and we became friends. One was Brian Smiley. The other was (possibly) Brenda Mooney. It was published in the Emory Wheel Tuesday, Feb. 20, 1973 on page 8.]
by David Morningmist
It was dusk and I was outside and a cool breeze was blowing. I thought the trees were beautiful against the darkening sky, and I felt as much a part of nature as I have ever felt—but things were not “fantastically” beautiful: things were just “simply” beautiful. The sunset hadn’t been deep-red clouds sailing the skies like ships that later became grey ghost-ships once the sun herself sank beneath the dying horizon.
No, there had been none of that. Just a simple sunset with a little bit (though not much) red glow. It was very dull, I suppose, in comparison with what you see on postcards and in books and as background material for advertisements. Still, it seemed as beautiful as any sunset I had ever known, and I realized that tomorrow’s would be just a beautiful—and seem more so.
Once darkness had come it was not the serenely glittering Lullwater lake, or the self-complementingly beautiful nationalities of trees around Lullwater that appeared so breathtaking and emotionally beautiful, but merely the plain and ordinary pine trees down toward Gilbert hall. I suppose some would say they stood rather uninteresting and dull against the dark sky, these trees that are being cut to let a Chemistry building grow, but somehow they seemed beautiful to me.
***
Now a few hours later, I stand here still staring at them (and no doubt appearing quite conspicuous and being stared at myself). I can’t help but think about all the trees being sawed down over America, and about all the conservationists trying to “save” these trees. And I realize there are two types of tree-conserving people. One type argues that if we don’t conserve e our trees we will someday have a shortage—not enough trees left to meet our needs for wood. In short, that we should not destroy as many trees today, so that we can have more to destroy in the future.
The other type of tree-conservationist is mainly interested in saving the trees of certain especially beautiful locations. He wants to save these “special locations” by putting state or national park fences around them: but it seems to be only the fantastically beautiful places that he wants to save—he has little concern for the ordinary and simple communities of nature. For him, a tree or forest must have some special quality or beauty in order to be allowed to live. And when a natural location does happen to have the beauty it needs for survival, he turns it into a park, and roads are built and people come to gawk at that beauty as if it was an animal at the zoo. There seems to be very little consideration for the trees themselves. No consideration for their feelings.
Yes, for their feelings. I recall hearing, last year, of an experiment that indicated plants have feelings. In this particular experiment, plants reacted violently when the experimenter picked up scissors to cut off a stem. It is not really surprising: few things cherish the thought of being hurt. Very few things.
***
Staring at these trees where the new Chemistry building will soon be, I can’t help feel that they seem sad and depressed, as if they have almost given up on life. Could it be these trees understand that they will soon be cut down? Yes, I know why they seem so sad. I know why.
I also know just how everyone will react to this: you’re insane; you have a warped imagination; or it’s only your wishful thinking. Something along that line. And perhaps all this is true. I don’t know. But if the trees themselves are unable to feel sadness for what is happening, then isn’t it time that someone did. Isn’t it time that somebody for once stopped worrying about scientific progress, about the well-being of our man-created world, and instead took a look at the natural things around us?
The point is not that we should save certain trees or certain locations because “they are beautiful.” And it’s not that we should “conserve” our forests: as if trees were not living things, but merely substances much like water and minerals. No, the point is that we should save trees because they are trees—and because they are a part of the natural living world.
Isn’t it time that we had at least a little concern and love for the natural things around us? In doing so, we would also be showing a little love and concern for ourselves. We too are natural things.
Trying to separate ourselves from nature with concrete, with buildings, and with theoretical learning only makes us less human and traps us into living artificially. Life was intended to take place in a natural environment, and we are just naive if we think we can create our own world to live in. No, we are more than naive, we are ignorantly ridiculous. We go on building our buildings and organizing our institutions and carrying ourselves farther away from the truths of real existence, farther away from the happiness and satisfaction of real living. If only we could see what we are doing—doing to ourselves—and to everything. What we are doing to everything.
I think it’s time somebody cried.
[“In this particular experiment, plants reacted violently when the experimenter picked up scissors to cut off a stem.”—I’m sure this never actually happened in the experiment.]