You Call That ART?

Ordered the new saddlebags; turned out to cost $250 instead of $140 as predicted. But I'm excited to get them. Also received the picket stake, rope and hobble I ordered two days ago. It might be too heavy to carry--heavier than I expected, although it comes in a lovely pack bag. Also ordered regular hobbles--haven't got those yet, but will be much lighter. I just don't like hobbles all that much, but I like loosing horses less!

I'm hearing through the grapevine that a number of folks don't get my trip's art connection. Easy to understand. So many writers, artists, etc., can sit home and create out of their heads, without getting out into the real world. I can't. Gotta get out there and do. See. Record. Interpret. My best writing has always come from immersion in the world, from experience with place. All my books to date have focused on the Southwest; regional books which I try to extrapolate to the larger world, but read by few. I have long wanted to do a book with larger scope, focusing on more international environmental issues--the purpose of this trip and resultant book.

Larger projects are always beyond most artists--financially, strategically, logistically--that's why we, as a culture, have long supported the arts. Many people say, "oh, I wish I could..." and when encountering a project's logistical and financial realities, talk themselves out of it. I am determined to do this project, and know I will go into debt doing it. But I'm committed to the idea. The ultimate purpose is a book that will, with hope, make a difference for the natural world. All of my efforts are focused on that, always have been, whether working for a Michigan nature center, the National Park Service, or as a freelance writer--it may sound corny and you may not believe me, but everything I attempt is in service to the natural world.

Some people focus on human health issues, some on human equality and justice, some on peace and political equanimity. My focus is health, equality, justice, peace and political consideration for the place that sustains us and its other-than-human occupants--for the place and beings that cannot speak for themselves. It may sound a lofty goal, and perhaps I am not up to the task, perhaps my efforts go unnoticed, are unappreciated or unheeded. So be it. I still have to make the effort.

In this time of economic disaster and worldwide upheaval, when we daily hear counts of the bombing dead, of invasions, kidnappings, starvation, disease and growing unrest, a project such as mine may seem trivial, a lark. But, as Pulitzer-winning author Jared Diamond so aptly explains, much of this misery results from underlying environmental problems. If all our political, economic and social ills were miraculously cured, we would still be faced with the coming plague of environmental change. I want to add another step on the stairway up from what many now call ecological despair, a step of hope, encouragement, understanding and action.