The Watershed Speaks
This paper was published in the 89th Volume of the "Journal of Rural Sociology." However, the storytellers of this paper are Water, Rivers and the many beings that sustain these communities. The article was a collaboration between myself, Talking Wings, and Dr. Leanne Avery. The humans, here offer an alternative methodology of ecocentric storytelling and artistic representation, to elevate the voice of both ecosystems and all their inhabitants. The two case studies presented are centered on environmental/social movements that foreground the inherent personhood of the natural world.
The first case study focuses on the Ashokan Reservoir, in the Catskill Mountains, on land guarded by the Lenape. It is a location that has suffered multiple waves of colonization and successfully resisted a large damming operation. The second case study is centered on the Upper St. Lawrence River/Kaniatarowanénhne Watershed, Haudenosaunee Territory, where rural communities are uniting to grant Rights to the Rivers that bring life to their communities. Both cases exemplify the story of communities that defended their livelihoods and environments by uniting with their most reliable allies, the Water, and all their more-than-human guardians.
Here is an excerpt:
Water Speaks
It’s unfathomable how we started, and yet we came to be. In the turmoil of a new
beginning, when fire and gas erupted to shape a still young crust, we played our role
in deciding the identity of the planet humans now call Earth. Mountains rose and
fell, and we carved our way through the landscape, changing form, discovering new
pathways. We like dark places, where we pool and sit waiting in contemplative silence.
We like high jumps, where we can liberate our energy as we run towards our next
life. We like to take up a lot of space, covering the high peaks with mantles of ice.
And when the ice melts, we slowly eat into the land, moving rocks, and reshaping the
world to our liking, so our passage will never be forgotten.
We like to jump out of the fissures of the earth and join in Rivers, until our long
bodies become the most prominent feature of the landscape (Fausch 2015). How
much we like to move, and we’ve never stopped. Since the beginning, our planet has
changed faces many times, and we’ve helped with the makeovers. Nothing is static,
and we change with time as the space we inhabit changes with us.
bodies become the most prominent feature of the landscape (Fausch 2015). How
much we like to move, and we’ve never stopped. Since the beginning, our planet has
changed faces many times, and we’ve helped with the makeovers. Nothing is static,
and we change with time as the space we inhabit changes with us.
We’ve seen a lot of life pass by, from the smallest microorganisms to the largest
beings that have roamed the Earth. Life has grown and ebbed alongside our passage,
for there was never life, as humans intend it, when we weren’t around. We fed the
plants, with their searching roots and their interconnected society. We have taken
care of everything that has ever moved, eaten, and breathed, with our infinite bodies,
through our smallest beings.
beings that have roamed the Earth. Life has grown and ebbed alongside our passage,
for there was never life, as humans intend it, when we weren’t around. We fed the
plants, with their searching roots and their interconnected society. We have taken
care of everything that has ever moved, eaten, and breathed, with our infinite bodies,
through our smallest beings.
We have seen many species come and go as the world changed. We’ve seen generations
thrive, and disappear, when the planet becomes hotter or colder. And here
we are again facing another change. A change we hadn’t quite expected, because
it wasn’t supposed to be this fast. It wasn’t supposed to leave us in shambles, dirtier
than we’ve ever been, locked in cages that should not have existed, exploited for the
benefit of one power alone: the human capitalist economy.
thrive, and disappear, when the planet becomes hotter or colder. And here
we are again facing another change. A change we hadn’t quite expected, because
it wasn’t supposed to be this fast. It wasn’t supposed to leave us in shambles, dirtier
than we’ve ever been, locked in cages that should not have existed, exploited for the
benefit of one power alone: the human capitalist economy.
Over the millennia, the human species took the lead in shaping this planet, slowly
imposing their control over everything, believing they could govern over us as well.
Their anthropocentric paradigm stands at the foundation of European colonialism
and the scientific revolution. The slave trade has turned human bodies, ecosystems,
and all their non-human inhabitants into private property, transforming all living
entities into tradeable commodities, thus declaring war on the entire planet (Figure 1).
We have seen European colonial nations race across the world to establish their
trade/war dominance. In the process, entire ecosystems were deprived of their personhood.
imposing their control over everything, believing they could govern over us as well.
Their anthropocentric paradigm stands at the foundation of European colonialism
and the scientific revolution. The slave trade has turned human bodies, ecosystems,
and all their non-human inhabitants into private property, transforming all living
entities into tradeable commodities, thus declaring war on the entire planet (Figure 1).
We have seen European colonial nations race across the world to establish their
trade/war dominance. In the process, entire ecosystems were deprived of their personhood.
From the enslaved populations of humans to the deforestation of so-called
New England, us, the Waters, the multitude of other living beings and Land themself
were stripped of all agency. The entire world has become a sacrifice zone, and the
current crisis is the latest consequence of the human colonialist/capitalist addiction
to owning everything.
New England, us, the Waters, the multitude of other living beings and Land themself
were stripped of all agency. The entire world has become a sacrifice zone, and the
current crisis is the latest consequence of the human colonialist/capitalist addiction
to owning everything.
Lights at the Bottom of the River
There are lights at the bottom of the river. You can see them if you peer down into the water. They look like wobbly lines, iridescent, blue, and silver. They’re not supposed to be there. We’re not supposed to be there.
There’s a secret place, in the Ocean, a gateway to the heart of the world. The water is calm, the deepest blue color. Not many can live there, and that’s why they are our realm. Our families have gathered in this deep blue sea for millennia, coming back from faraway lands, bringing stories of faraway waters. We tell those stories when we die, passing them on to the future generations. Maps are woven into those stories, the directions that our children use to navigate the currents of this world.
I Remember When...
They had disappeared. I don’t remember when it exactly happened. I just know that one day, I realized they weren’t there anymore. The world had become more silent, less colorful. The flowers didn’t fly like they used to, while the stars didn’t come down at night to brighten the countryside. When it rained, the snails didn’t invade the roads to the point that I couldn’t walk out of the house without hearing a crunch underfoot. The lizards had stopped lazing under the sun, on those hot summer days. They just weren’t there anymore, and that’s when I left.
The Lake Told Me...
It stands by the edge of the water, a strange construction. It seems to have eyes, black like the night. At times, when the sun shines on the water, I can see inside that improbable skull. It has changed over time. It seems to be peeling, slowly disintegrating, but still standing, always standing. I have asked the Lake, my lovely immense home, what is it, this odd thing that doesn’t look like anything else I’ve seen. It might have been plopped there, placed on the earth by an alien god, and then forgotten.
I still have a hard time believing the Lake’s story, but who am I to judge. This Lake has been here for much longer than I have, and I have been here a long time. Water carries many memories. Sometimes, the memories come from far away, brought by rain and snow, while others are brought in by the rivers and streams that trickle down from the mountains or originate in faraway valleys. Most of the memories, however, are stored right here, in the soil, in the roots of the plants that grow under the surface or along the banks. The Lake knows, the Lake remembers, the water flows, but the memories stay.
Dance With Me
Have you ever heard the giants breathe?
I think I have, particularly in winter, as I made my way through the forested floors of the Adirondack Mountains. I heard the giants breathe in the large rivers that meander down the peaks towards the valleys. I heard them breathe on the mountainsides, the trees pillars of thoughtful silence. I heard them breathe in the lakes, where the hush is so deep you can listen to your own heart beating. This is where the story begins, on a winter day. A day I decided to go and listen to the slumbering world of the Adirondacks Mountains.
That was the day I met them, the Guardian of the Forest, dressed in brown feathers. It was a barred owl; I remember them clearly. They swooped down from the sky, landing on one of the tall branches of a tree a few feet away from where I was walking. Their black onyx eyes looked down at me, searching. I was startled by the purpose that lay behind those eyes. Somehow, I knew the barred owl wasn’t there by chance. They had been waiting for my arrival.
When We Became Trees
We hadn’t planned to stop running or abandon our addiction to over-consumption and the over-exploitation of our planet’s resources. We thought we had just found a more efficient way to be human. We didn’t have any more space for agriculture, or the time to eat and keep on feeding an ever-growing population. Our industries needed more space to expand, and we needed a more-efficient-kind of human. A human being that wouldn’t have to depend on meals and other species to survive. A human being that could keep on working as long as the sun was up, harvesting nutrients directly from the soil.