Every time I hear someone blatantly espousing the catch phrase “change is good,” I want to scream out, “It depends on what’s being changed, and then you have to consider all the ramifications!”
When spring finally arrives, we feel a surge of personal renewal from the rebirthing of our long-yearned-for plant life. During the summer we’re glorified by the hues and scents of our blooming flowers; the birds, bees, butterflies and other insects they attract; and our lush trees. For many of us, just working with the soil is inherently pleasing. And in the autumn we marvel at the kaleidoscope of colors, while the crunching of leaves under our feet lends us an inner peace. In essence, our souls, spirits and inner-energies depend on these gifts from nature.
Yet, everywhere we turn throughout the world, we’re rampantly developing our earth, yanking out countless trees and flowers — the source of that seasonal rejuvenation, and even more important, what we rely on to emit our precious oxygen. We’re also changing and destroying the vital habitat and ecosystems that our trees, flowers, birds, bees, butterflies and other insects, besides countless wildlife, depend on for their food and shelter — their very existence. Then we’re burying the soil under slabs of cement to make it easier for us to walk or park our vehicles, and erecting dead buildings. In turn, our waters are getting filled with the debris we’ve generated while doing so.
To escape from that sterile environment, we flock to cabins to see less common birds, butterflies and flowers. But once there, we chop down the dead trees that cavity-living birds depend on, and clear away the country denizens’ life-sustaining fallen logs. We mow our grass all the way down to the water’s edge, destroying the birds’ and ducks’ mating grounds, shelter and needed rest areas during their migration. In essence, we’re destroying the vital habitat and ecosystems for everything we came there to see.
I live in the city, and I’ve filled my front yard with a myriad of native plants that attract butterflies, bees and birds. In back, besides more flowers, I’ve hung up a myriad of feeders to attract countless types of birds, and they do come–even the rare ones, during their migration. I sit on our front porch or gaze out the kitchen window and watch nature’s show unfold. Other times I tiptoe through woodlands, listening to the living earth beneath my feet, and the tiniest sounds of life above.
If all this disappeared, would my heart ever sing again? Would yours? I’ve also hung crystals on my windows, so on sunny days I can rejoice in the swatches of rainbows they cast on our walls. Yet, I doubt if that would suffice.
Is it any wonder why I cringe every time I hear those words, “change is good?” Sure, change is inevitable. But good? In this case, not only us but a lot of life forms had better be able to adapt.