The most logical thing I could think of doing today was to talk to a rock. This rock is part of the floor of the planet so it has been here for quite awhile and understands far better than I many of the important issues and events of the day. From sediment to fire to ice 10,000 feet thick, to time beyond measure and tens of thousands of sun rises and moon sets, the rock remains ready to speak when I’m ready to listen.
It knows that one seed, like the Milkweed I found near it, can germinate and over time result in thousands and thousands of offspring. The rock reminds me we have also seen the seeds of hate spreading this week—here in Montpelier, back in my hometown in Michigan and all across the country. In so many places hate has begun to surround family and friends on all sides.
The rock has watched as plants have filled every conceivable niche—Witch Hazel in full bloom just now to feed an end-of season honey bee much-needed pollen, and Tamarack golden and loosening its needles, so it will be ready to shed the coming snows and survive sub-zero weather. The rock reminds me we humans are seeing what happens when we forget we are only one small part of the planet rather than the masters of it. Many other creatures too will suffer in ways we cannot yet imagine.
The rock tells me it will be here, still in the company of the Milkweed, the Witch Hazel, Tamarack and a view of the hill and river beyond, long after we are gone. I’m listening, and invite President-elect Trump to sit for a while and talk with the rock.