Weep for the Forests of Death

A trail in the forest deep in the mountains of Birkenhead Lake

My gods are the powerful spirits of the wild, horned and antlered, of sharp tooth and claw. They are the wolf in the field of grain, the shark in the blue sea, the ancient tree in the wood, and the mother and father of all spirits walking this earth. They are so ancient they have no names for we did not yet exist to name them. To name a thing makes it feel safe and knowable – they are neither.

I made an oath to my gods two years ago. I made it under duress while violently ill during a powerful lightning storm. As great snakes made of fire and light struck away at the ground, I thought I was going to die or pass out, but instead words tumbled from my lips like water from a fountain and made the promise,”I will not let them forget you”.  I did not realize all that simple oath entailed when I made it. It seemed easy enough, but from it came the podcast, cosmological writings, the urges to write books and continue with my woodwork, as well as my work with the local forest.

In our modern times of concrete cities and sanitized environments we have forgotten the wild gods, the hunter’s gods, the green gods. The city dwellers see nature as perfect, beautiful, and friendly when they hang out in their postage-stamp yards or visit park lands laid out by the government. They don’t stop and feel the eyes watching them wishing them harm. It is easy to forget the dangers of the wild wood –the destructive powers of the animals, plants, and trees– the poisons, the thorns, the teeth, and the claws.

I’m going to be completely honest with you city dwellers, the forest is not friendly and it doesn’t like you. No, it doesn’t want you to harvest its plants or wood from its trees – haven’t you taken enough over the centuries? Did you think they would forget the clear cuts, the scorched earth, the slaughter of its wildlife, and the polluted waters? Did you think they only had the five-minute memory of your lap dog? Trees live for centuries to millennia after all. We are but fleas and ticks to some of them — fleas and ticks that killed almost ALL of their elders. Did you think they wouldn’t associate what was done with the whole human race? They are angry and pissed off and they’ll put the blame on any mortal who dares enter their territory without awareness and remorse.

I see the body count continue to rise each year as hapless students fall down ravines and off the cliffs of my mountain. I see the helicopters circle and circle looking for lost hikers and mountain bikers in the forest reserve, giving up after a few days. I hear dark tales of rivers and lakes snatching canoers and kayakers who are said to just disappear, never to return home again. Long ago we stopped offering our sacrifices to the Forest for all we took. We took so much it would make our animistic ancestors weep in horror at what we had done. Whole stretches of forest cut down to build forts and ships of trade and war. Whole species of animals gone extinct from over-hunting, over-fishing, and trapping for hides and body parts.

We no longer saw the Forest as a provider of the food and materials for living. We took that for granted. We forgot about balance and leaving enough to provide for future generations. Instead, we saw all the Forest’s resources in dollar signs and that they were free and endless. We are caught in the vicious cycle of progress built on a foundation of sand called greed.  As locally-born David Suzuki says, it is already too late. We are living beyond the means of our natural resources. We can’t blame our abuse of the earth on religion as our Pagan ancestors are also responsible for its destruction. The massive old growth forests the Norse cut down for their longships have never grown back. Our generation and many generations after us will never ever see the forests of giant trees that once existed all over our world. Only echoes remain like the Redwoods in California or the ancient Cedars of the Haida Gwaii.

Nothing will change until our governments and big business stop thinking in terms of money. Until my government stops giving away my province’s lumber to the US and our water to China. Until local small farmers can legally sell their eggs, meat, and produce to their own local people without having to legally go through incredibly expensive federal inspection only designed for large industry and not them.  Until we stop farming salmon that are meant to be wild. Until we stop thinking we can do it better than nature can. Until we stop thinking of only ourselves. Until we stop believing we are at the top of the food chain and the world is our oyster (that we can blame on the Book of Genesis in the Bible).

Nothing you can do can make it better. No apology is good enough for all we have done to the earth and to the wild wood we once worshipped and feared as God above all others. Recycling does not make you an environmentalist. Choosing the beef jerky that wasn’t made from cows herded in clearings that were once part the Amazon rainforest does not make you an environmentalist. Having a garden does not make you an environmentalist. Do you want to help? Do you want to apologize? For real? Collect garbage from your local green spaces and clear out invasive species. Join a committee or board of a local park or area.  Plant trees after first learning how to do it properly. Donate money to conservation efforts or volunteer to help. Volunteer at wild animal rescues. Vote for laws in your municipality to protect trees from being cut down and to protect parks and green spaces from development.

As spirit workers it is no longer socially acceptable to leave civilization behind and go wild as the shamans, seers, and sorcerers of old once did for long periods of time to undergo initiation. It is also no longer logical – how many of us have the knowledge and skills to survive for years in the wild with no pre-built shelter, no pre-made tools, and no food to purchase? The answer is only a small handful of us who are bushcraft hobbyists. Most people dropped in the wilderness with no supplies would die of starvation and exposure within weeks. Let us be honest about our detachment from the wild and our ancient skills of survival. We are not one with nature, we are separated from it by our choices and actions.

Open your eyes and truly see the nature around you. Learn as much as you can about your native plant species and how they can be used for food and medicine. Teach yourself the lost skills of the wild – hunting, foraging, tool-making, and survival to connect with our prehistoric animistic ancestors. Teach yourself respect and manners. Don’t take anything without asking and don’t take anything without leaving something in return. If you will not use all you take, leave it behind where you found it. This doesn’t mean leave an offering for every single plant you harvest from. Animistic tribes all over the world have a common practice of leaving one big offering monthly or yearly for all they take to propitiate the wild spirits. That is what your manners and offerings are for; to propitiate, to calm, and to make agreeable. A partner in trade is not resentful, but the victim of outright thievery will be livid. It is time to stop being thieves and start being partners with the earth. It is time to weep for green blood as much as we weep for red.

This is not my rant, this is theirs. Do not forget them. Do not forget the greenmantle and the animals are sentient. They are the eyes and ears of the Gods watching and judging you. Be honest with yourself, be honest with them, and you can start to repair the damage done and rediscover the skills and knowledge they gifted us with that we so carelessly forgot.

A giant ancient Cedar cut down long ago

“The Old Ones” by Gaia Consort
(click to play song)

You who have lived out your life and it’s changes
Save a place in heaven for me
I was like you once, I walked in the deep shade
But I can’t see the forest or the trees

From sea blooms in ocean to cloud misted hillsides
Gaia, She makes a good rain
The forest at climax was pointing toward heaven
Eons before Jesus came

And who will remember to speak of the old ones?
Who will remember when the old ones are gone?
I was like you once, I walked in the deep shade
But all the old ones are gone

The sweatshops and chain gangs that made up the old life
Have all become high tech arcades
Armored in business, far from the source point
They say to the forest “spread your legs”

And who will remember to speak of the old ones?
Who will remember when the old ones are gone?
I was like you once, I walked in the deep shade
But all the old ones are gone

You who have lived out your life and it’s changes
Forget that place in heaven for me
I’ve seen too many clearcuts, too many landslides
To lay on my hands and heal…

And who will remember to speak of the old ones?
Who will remember when the old ones are gone?
I was like you once, I walked in the deep shade
But all the old ones are gone

Copyright Christopher Bingham, January, 15, 1997

Category : Herbalism, Paganism, Wildcrafting, Witchcraft & Magic
Tags : , , , , , , , , , ,