But enough of the practical, the
political. There are reasons far beyond these to preserve the wilderness, and
they can address the troubling chasm in our lives: between reality and intent,
between compromise and purity, between living responsibly and living
fanatically – the old problem of the gap between works and faith. How do I
justify my cars, my houses, my consumption of carbon? Even if I try to distill
and reduce my way of life a bit, I still out-burn almost everyone on earth. How
do we live in a world so obviously destructive?
I won’t go so far as to say the
future of our species is at stake. If we do manage to exterminate ourselves,
the end will come from apocalypse, nuclear or religious, not these relatively
(in geologic scale) gradual insults to our planet. Barring apocalypse, humans
will adapt and survive. I believe the science-fiction writers, even the
dystopian dyspeptics, who make a point of showing ala Star Trek that we’re
human in spite of the gadgets, the aliens and the shiny, impervious surfaces
that may indeed one day cover every inch of Earth. We will suffer and survive.
But our adaptation, both as a
species and as individuals, could be so much more rewarding if we just look
into and value our beautiful natural world. It might even change the course of
our burning. One must always hope.
Just look at what a strange life we
have, to live so differently from nature (which we praise) and so similar to it
(which we deny). I sit in a living room or an office, and the walls are
man-made barriers, and the carpeting is an artificial cocoon, and I’m either
trapped, or protected, you choose. I choose to believe that I’m more trapped
than protected, and I choose the trees outside the windows, their branches
reaching into imagination, to bridge the gap between heaven and earth,.
And that is what national parks represent to me –
imagination. Not for nothing are they called “
Excerpted from Saving
Maine: A Personal Gazetteer
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