When We Collect An Acorn...

When we collect an acorn, our hope is that one day it grows to be a big oak tree. And eventually that big oak tree carpets the forest floor with acorns of its own. And some of those acorns will also, one day, grow to be big oak trees.That cycle has gone on for as long as oaks and acorns have existed, and while no human lifespan is so long that we might watch it ourselves, it’s absolutely essential that it continues. Not just for oaks, but for all the biodiversity we work to preserve.

Because our shared work as stewards of biodiversity is both so important and looms so far into the future, it's crucial that we work with great patience, and also treat ourselves with compassion. We simply cannot recreate the highest quality forests within our lifespans. Nor can we rapidly recreate our most vibrant meadows, wetlands, savannahs, or woodlands. We have no option but to work at the pace set by the very organisms we’re laboring to protect. Working in restoration is like laying the foundation for some great Gothic cathedral. Those of us laying the foundation have no reasonable expectation to look upon the spires piercing the heavens or the fine stained glass windows. We know that our work will be continued by our children, their children, their children’s children and so forth. It’s an article of faith that we work so hard knowing that we rely on the goodwill and hard work of people not yet born to finish what we start. Even the concept of being “finished” is perhaps anathema to those who are always striving for something better. And so too do those great structures – whether they’re European Gothic cathedrals, pyramids, temples, neolithic stone circles, or any great human-built edifice – require the constant care and attention of their stewards.

Our place, evolutionarily and philosophically, is to be among the great ecosystem-engineer species. Just as untold generations of beavers shaped our wetlands, so too can people positively protect, restore, and enjoy nature for many generations to come. Indeed, much of what ails us today is the consequence of decades of inaction – no one to burn the meadows, no one to remove the invasives, no one to hunt the deer – that has allowed such a debt of maintenance to build up in our natural spaces.

What does all my philosophical rambling mean in practice? I think it means we shouldn't be afraid to earnestly do imperfect work. Just as there is a vast community of people working now to improve our natural areas, correcting the mistakes of previous generations, so too will there be in the next century and so forth. If we focus on doing our best, preserving what we can, sharing our knowledge and passion with others, and restoring areas, even imperfectly, we are laying the groundwork for the next generation. If we do a good job laying the proverbial stone slabs, maybe they will be the skilled artisans who can finally sit and admire the verdant and lush future we crave. -Maddie Bright, Earth Sangha Executive Director