And there were some birds sort of making a lot of sounds in the park this morning. And there used to be a robin that would just go on and on and on every morning. I don't know what happened to that robin or if it didn't pass on that sort of skill or whatever it was, but that sound, you know, that that's happening. And the sound of running water, like Lucy was talking about in her talk, just that way that affects us. There's actually this little stream, a couple of streams in Golden Gate Park. One they turn on and off, so I don't even always know if it's going to be running. But when it is, I go down there, and once I was going by, and there was a hummingbird taking a bath in it. And I got to see that, you know. So it's all flashing green and red and everything. So in 1802, which is over 200 years ago, William Wordsworth wrote a sonnet.

[01:10]

And I used to recite this all the time. For some reason, he's kind of, maybe for some of us, a little corny. But I don't know. I just like the rhythm and the words. The world is too much with us. Late and soon, getting and spending, we lay waste our powers. Little we see in nature that is ours. We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon, which means basically a bad bargain. So in the rest of the poem... he laments the lack of caring for the sea and the moon reflected on it and the winds of the ocean and the sounds they make and wishes that he might have grown up in a different sort of religious culture that was more attuned to nature. So he says, so might I, a lee is like a meadow or a grassland or something like that, so that's what that means.

[02:17]

so might I, standing on this pleasant lee, have glimpses that would make me less forlorn. So he's lamenting this lack of connection to the natural world. And I think that most of us spend most of our days indoors. That's where our work is. When people are caregivers, they spend a lot of time indoors. And then just taking care of, you know, services and business. When I was working in the hospital, those people are in the hospital for 12 hours a day. They're in the building. So anyway, how does this affect us and our perception or perspective on what the world includes? And I... Even our entertainment is indoors. You go to a movie or a symphony or whatever.

[03:18]

You might be interested in a bar or go to a restaurant or something and you're inside. And then nature, this isn't absolutely true, but there's this tendency for that to be something you do on the weekend. Get in your car and drive to some beautiful place or to a cafe. You go to a cafe you like and sit outdoors. And depending on the season, you might go for a hike. or skiing outside the city. And a book that I have had for many years, and I keep thinking, do I still want this? Yes. Do I still want this? Yes. Is The Mountains of California by John Muir. And that was first published in 1894. And when I reread it now, because I've had it for so long, I feel moved, but I also feel this kind of... You know, all the things he's talking about, a lot of the things he's talking about are gone. So the things he's describing.

[04:19]

And the only way they'll be remembered is through someone like him, writing it down, describing it, taking a picture, making a sketch. And over three and a half million people visit Yosemite every year. Yosemite National Park. And they mostly remain in the valley. So I visited Yosemite only twice. And once I went with some friends cross-country skiing, my favorite sport. And I used to be able to afford it. It was wonderful. But anyway, and then once I went there to camp with a friend of mine. And on the second visit, we started in the valley. And there were people everywhere, and they were all dressed in party clothes, and the women were wearing high heels, and they were screeching and taking pictures. And I'm like, okay, you know. Oh, I'm in a tourist trap, I guess you could call it.

[05:21]

And I don't mean that as a criticism of anyone, but most of the people just stay in that area, buy some food, eat it, look around a little bit, and they've done Yosemite. Well, that visit was in May, and the dogwood trees were blooming. And it was kind of... Weather was a little uncertain. And we knew that. So we set up the tent, and the clouds burst, and it was pouring rain, and the tent was leaking. So we got in the car, and it was hailing all night long. And then the next day was beautiful. We just... We're hiking, and of course it was all refreshed by this rain and everything. And we hiked to this campsite, and I don't know if you've ever done this, but they gave us the instructions for, you know, you tie a rock to this rope, and then you throw it over a branch, and you've tied your food to it, and then you pull it up.

[06:28]

We spent about an hour, and we were in hysterics, you know, because it's just absurd trying to do this. I was having a really good time, and we were the only people around this little camping area. And that night, there was all this snuffling and stuff around the tent. I was like, is it like a bear, or is it a skunk, or is it a raccoon? But anyway, I ended up sleeping, because of course I'd been up all night the night before, and everything was fine. And my friend took a lot of pictures. He was a photographer. And I have this photo of myself standing on a boulder, and I'm wearing shorts and my hiking boots and this little shirt, a red shirt, you know, that I liked. And I don't take pictures very often when I go out. And that's, I'm not sure why, but it made me, when I read about John Muir,

[07:34]

I travel very light when I hike. Like if I go on a hike at Tassajara, I take some water and a snack and then little tissues and stuff like that. And John Muir would go out for several days and all he would bring was some bread and he ate it, whether or not it was fresh or not, and some tea. No blankets, nothing. Anyway, I won't go into it, but he would make himself these beds out of branches and stuff like that. Well, anyway, in one of the chapters of the Mountains of California that's on the glaciers, he describes his discovery of a glacier in Yosemite. Cautiously picking my way, I gained the top of the moraine and was delighted to see a small but well-characterized glacier swooping down from the gloomy precipices of Black Mountain.

[08:37]

Creeping along the edge, holding on with benumbed fingers, I discovered clear sections where the structure was beautifully revealed. A series of rugged zigzags enabled me to make my way down into the weird underworld of the crevasse. Its chambered hollows were hung with a multitude of clustered icicles amid which pale subdued light pulsed and shimmered with indescribable loveliness. Water dripped and tinkled overhead. And from far below came strange solemn murmurings from currents that were feeling their way through veins and fissures in the dark. The chambers of a glacier are perfectly enchanting. Notwithstanding, one feels out of place in their frosty beauty. I was soon cold in my shirt sleeves, yet it was hard to leave the delicious music of the water and the lovely light.

[09:47]

So that's my favorite section in the whole book. I shortened it, but that black mountain... glacier that Muir discovered in 1871 has disappeared, along with many other glaciers due to global warming. And he was aware 150 years ago of the impacts that were unfolding and would unfold due to global warming and pollution. And now that world he saw and experienced is no longer available to us. the tinkling water and the lights. And I was thinking about this and how different Muir Woods seems to me than when I was younger. I would go with my family, and that was one place that was close enough we could drive there, get everybody together. And we'd bring our own food, and...

[11:00]

And it was very quiet, you know, and we'd be dressed for walking. And their paths were not that well tended, so there'd often be a tree that had fallen over, and you'd just climb over it. And now, you know, it's this manicured and very humanified, I call it, And it also has a lot of restaurants and places to buy things and souvenirs and everything when you first go in. So this is starting to affect me as I grow older and see these things disappearing and that other people are not going to be able to see them. And I think each generation at the same time experiences Yosemite and Muir Woods as they are and loves them, and they're still very wonderful.

[12:04]

And at the same time, their former condition can't even be imagined. You can't think into the past. So what kind of attitude can we have towards an environment as it's disappearing? And I think certainly I have had an experience of hearing older people talk about how things used to be, and now I'm one of those people, and some of you will someday be those people. But I think there are some things that touch us so deeply that they stay with us in our imaginary world realms, and somehow they've spoken to us in our hearts, and so there's something that we carry with us. The loss of that, it's like losing a friend, or something favorite that has been with you for many years, or something like that. And sometimes those experiences have deeply changed us, seeing that kind of beauty, and that's what Muir often describes happening to him on his expeditions.

[13:22]

He would feel this sense of transformation by what he was seeing and how it affected him like that glacier. And the vanishing of the glaciers also has an impact because they have been a source of water for California. So they would melt and freeze and melt and freeze and now they're not there anymore. So we have a little crisis brewing. But it's also difficult to think about the future and what will be the impact of all these changes and how to be concerned about it. And that is particularly, as I've also mentioned in the class, it's so easy for us to just turn on the water or flip on a light or turn on the heat or the air conditioning, depending on where you are. And the systems that are in place,

[14:25]

to make all this possible, don't worry us very much. I mean, you don't really think about it. And I think that convenience is so practical and reasonable. Well, you know, why would we question everything that it takes for us to sit in this room and have it brightly lit, for me to have this microphone, all those kinds of things. Where did all these stuff come from? In a recent letter to the editor in the Times Literary Supplement, someone said, a useful challenge for philosophers would be to ask why environmental and social collapse are increasingly inevitable now, why we don't care, and perhaps why we seem not to care that we don't care. Now, of course, we care. But what is the impact of our caring? So... I agree with this person. I think in some way we don't care because it's almost ungraspable.

[15:30]

But I don't usually make suggestions, but I would suggest that just for one day, try to think for a moment before you turn on the tap or turn off or on the light and think about everything that's in place that makes that so easy. you know, PG&E and all those things going on and where our water comes from and everything. And in some ways, you know, consider what's at risk for us to have all these conveniences. You know, the very vitality of our life experience and what supports it is being used up because We want this ease of access. So that's how it is. So this talk is not so much to say, oh, something has to be done, or what that might be, but to wonder about how things are, how we got here, and what things may be like in the future.

[16:49]

and how that will affect what we call the environment at this moment. And will we think of ways to make the environment unnecessary by enclosing ourselves in fake environments? And global warming is already sort of allowing or causing this proliferation diseases and viruses that are more able to survive in warmer conditions. And I mentioned at work meeting one day that there's this fungus that, because of global warming, is moving north, and it's one of the causes, or the cause, of everyone having a lot more environmental allergies and sensitivity to scents and that sort of thing. There's also a new disease called sudden oak death.

[17:56]

And it's killing trees and other plants in Oregon and California. And it was brought into the area through nursery plants. And at the same time, all the stresses of global warming make these plants less able to fight the funguses and other things. So they can't protect themselves. And so You know, can we give these kinds of things our attention in the midst of, like, getting through our days and doing what we're, you know, fulfilling our responsibilities? And I think, you know, Muir's books and other books that I've mentioned kind of bring this very poignantly into my mind. I think it's partly because I've gotten to the point in my life where I can see the losses.

[18:58]

And when I lived at Tassajara in the 90s, there were water oozles and mergansers and these burrowing owls and screech owls and golden eagles and all these other birds that I would see all the time. And when I visited lately, I think partly due to the forest fires, which is also an effect of... one of the effects of global warming, I don't see so many birds. I did have the wonderful experience of seeing a pygmy owl, but I was surprised because I don't... There's not so many birds around. And I think it's interesting to consider, you know, what the impact of our way of life is. So... A lot of our life is sort of focused around what you call buying and selling. Like we go out and get things and somebody's selling it to us and there's this kind of relationship you have about that.

[20:05]

But we're also selling our labor and people are buying our labor and we're here. In a very practical way, we're kind of selling Zen and selling Zen Center, and people are coming here to buy it. And so there's this exchange of things. And I was reading this article about a variety of things, and the first sentence said, is there anything that capitalism can't ruin? When you think about it, that's kind of what's destroying the environment. And yet, there's many... the ways that capitalism provides a lot of services and inventions and all kinds of things that make our lives and health much better. And that development is based in this kind of trampling and destruction and ignoring the effects of that on us and on nature.

[21:11]

And it's in compromising, you know, the very environment that makes our life worth living. So what I wish and hope is that there'll be some sort of stopping. And this happens occasionally. There'll be this stopping and a kind of a waiting period or something like that where things can maybe start to grow back. I'm not sure the forest will ever do that, but... that this sense of things like there's this possibility of renewal when there's this stopping. And we have to do it again and again because as soon as everything seems like it's okay, we start destroying everything again. And so I think this stopping is a little bit unlikely, partly because we rely so much on technology, and I do as well. I'm not criticizing it. But... I think there's a sorrow, I feel, for all the things that I've not seen, like what Muir saw, and for all the things that people after me won't see, won't experience, won't smell, won't touch.

[22:27]

So this truth hurting and then setting us free. I consider this to be a process of understanding that is a form of love. So understanding ourselves and our selfishness as well as our capacity for generosity and deep caring and to intentionally project and extend that love onto the natural world as a form of prayer or... And I believe that can have an effect. And it's not as a bargain, but as a possibility. This kind of caring, this projection, this extension of our love onto everything. And I think that people who study and write about nature have this kind of understanding love. And that's some of the books that I have mentioned.

[23:36]

There's a woman named Catherine Rundle, and she wrote this very short piece about the common swift in Britain. And it's a bird that weighs less than a hen's egg and lives most of its life in flight. In fact, for a long time, they thought, swifts are very hard to catch, so people didn't know so much about them before. But they thought they didn't have any legs because they never landed. Well, the adults are able to stand on their legs very weakly because they mostly fly. And they sleep flying. They'll just hang in the air and sleep. And then they'll wake up in the same place. It's impossible to believe, right? This is happening. In fact, some pilot, I think she said during World War I or something, saw this group of swifts just hovering.

[24:40]

And nobody believed them until they actually figured out that's what they do. So as a species, they're very ancient. In terms of evolution, she said they're separated from other birds. They separated from other birds about 70 years I wanted to sort of exaggerate that because 70 million, that's a long time. And so they have these odd characteristics, like one thing, they have very deep set eyes and they have these little bristles around them that protect their eyes from the sun. Because they're always in flight and they spend a lot of time around the equator. And when they're flying, they can reach speeds up to 70 to 100 miles an hour. And this common swift, this extraordinary creature, is endangered. Due to loss of habitat, which is partly global warming and also pesticide use, and global warming has reduced the population of insects that they live on.

[25:52]

She said that... During the breeding season, a single adult bird has to catch 100,000 insects a day. Yes, I know. What? Exactly. Also, there's something called bird's nest soup that is thought to clear the complexion and rejuvenate the body, and it requires harvesting vast amounts of the nests. So this miraculous, wonderful, extraordinary creature, who is at least, if not more miraculous than us, is disappearing. And this person cares and is applying this kind of understanding love to letting us know, this is what you're losing, and oh, love it. And I feel that.

[26:53]

And the photo that went with the article of this strange little bird and how moving that is. So try it. Understanding love. Thank you very much. And I'll check, I'm not sure. Oh, I think we have time for one or two questions or comments if anyone would like to say something. I was asking why I've been trying to find an answer to this question for a long time. Why are we treating nature like that? I wanted to see what you think of that. My kind of answer was that we are lacking this. kindness and love to ourselves.

[27:55]

So that's why people treat the nature like that. If I see it as a program for health that we are having. I think climate change is just the cause. There's no effect, sorry. But what's the cause? Why are we like that? Well, you know, in some way we are animals and we don't acknowledge that right but if we were living in a natural environment we would be trying to figure out what to eat where to be safe and do all these other things that animals are doing but for some you know this this evolutionary thing that happened where we sort of learned how to not just build things but we started to pave things that's Make ourselves safer and safer and safer. And maybe there's just... It created a disconnection.

[28:59]

But the urge to survive over other creatures is kind of in there somewhere. So I think that might be part of it. And I try to be careful not to create shame in people by this, by... This is my sorrow. But I... Because I'm part of it too. And some of it is just unthinking. You know, you get to the point where you're just... You know, this is the way things are. And it's hard to think back or worry. And where do I get... You know, as I say, where do I get my clothes? Where do I get my food? I mean, it's endless. So that's where I... tried to develop this way of being a human being in this circumstance that's destroying what makes me a human being in a certain way, or gives me the vitality for that.

[30:03]

So it's, how do we do that? This poignancy, and I... I don't know. Yes? I was reading this interview with Greg Snyder, I think, or some other environmentalist. Someone asked us, what advice do you have for the younger generation? And he said, anything you give for nature, do it not because of guilt, but from love, which I'm sensing a lot from what you're saying. But that got me to think a bit about the speed of repentance, which we do here every morning. And how can we balance that repentance, seeing what we've done at the same time acting with love?

[31:08]

Could there be some kind of skill for faith that comes from gift or to see if I believe it. Well, that's the part that I call understanding. So you don't just love without, you know, realizing what you're loving, to know it deeply. So that's how I see these naturalists and what they're doing when they're studying these things. and these creatures and these plants and everything. So I think that that actually kind of creating a relationship of connection that isn't love going out that way, but this kind of understanding love that you're sort of, it's inclusive. And I think that it's very helpful to do something like choose

[32:13]

charity or group that addresses environmental issues and just create a relationship with them send them money or whatever you think will be helpful and see how that sort of addresses that feeling of guilt or helplessness I think there's often a sense of helplessness and But that understanding part, I think, is important to me. I don't own the world. I can't make things my way and so on. So how do I sort of let it speak to me? And that's a form of love, understanding things come this way as well as... Does that make sense? Thank you all very much.

[33:16]

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