The men working in the forest didn’t blink an eye and greeted me courteously when I waded through the branches on the path in my three piece business suit. Walker versus tree managers, they probably didn’t realise they where a stranger presence here than I was. Since months the stacks of tree trunks alongside most of the wider paths have been growing. Unless you walk around very early, the bird sounds are drenched in the noise of motor saws.
I turned left and heard them bashing through the undergrowth before I saw them, probably disturbed by the men as well: two big wild boar and four juveniles, crossing the path in front of me to find a more quiet spot deeper into the forest. They didn’t know yet they were going to have a tough winter because of a lack of acorns and nuts this year and because their population is huge for the relatively small area. The forest managers say that a healthy balance is around 800 animals in the whole of the Veluwe, the wider area around where I live. There are 10.000 of them at the moment.
What is nature? It is one of the questions I embroidered on my suit. I am always thrilled when I see wild boar or deer in the morning, it feels as if it is as close as you can get to encountering “the wild” here in the Netherlands but of course the plants and mushrooms that pop up inbetween the managed trees are pretty wild as well, as are the trees that even when managed, still have a way of their own. In a way quite similar to the boar, roaming around freely but their population being kept within limits by shooting them. “What is wild” is another question that can be answered in many ways.
When I was at the COP in Paris six years ago I noticed that a lot of people were wondering if we should have different words for what until now we called nature. The question is related to another one: if human beings are part of nature or if we excluded ourselves and the nature we manage to such an extend that there should be different categories, different words. I remember thinking that if we wouldn’t call ourselves part of nature anymore, we might possibly even drift away further from what is left of nature. It is an interesting debate though.
On the first day of the COP in Glasgow I watched the opening ceremony. Boris Johnson was a disgrace, comparing the fight we’re up to with a James Bond storyline (later on you could see him sitting maskless and dozing off inbetween some other delegates). It made the speech by the young Samoan climate activist Brianna Fruean, who spoke after him, even more powerful. She started with a Samoan proverb, “E pala ma'a, 'ae lē pala ‘upu” meaning “Even stones decay but words remain”. The power of words is undisputed but our awareness of this power is often lacking. You can’t undo your words so you better make sure that when you say something, you are committed to what it is you put out into the world. And don’t underestimate what words can bring about, what force and wisdom they carry within them. It also means you shouldn’t just talk and use words, but also listen to the words of others carefully. Listening is of the utmost importance
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New questions in the last 10 days:
Where did we go wrong?
What the fuck?
What if?
Which border would you never cross?
Would you be so kind?
What would Larry say?
Are we listening?
Is standing still the best way forward?
Where too?
How much is enough?
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