Have you ever had one of those days where you have a bunch of random thoughts, but they all seem to make sense together? I tend to have these days while working outside in the field. For this month’s blog post I want to share some random thoughts from fieldwork today and attempt to share how I think they connect for the more linear thinkers out there. Today I measured seedlings that were planted six months ago for restoration. As I measured, I listened to Braiding Sweetgrass yet had to keep my attention divided because thunder and lightning were in the forecast. Yes, I am still listening to Braiding Sweetgrass (shout out to my first blog post back in October). I could’ve listened to the book faster because it’s beautifully written, but I’ve been purposefully listening slowly. Going back to read the physical book, taking notes, and then discussing with friends. There is so much ʻike in the book to process and savor. Interestingly, today I listened to the section titled Collateral Damage. Dr. Robin Wall Kimmerer poetically discusses and links the collateral damage of our societies. Innocent salamanders killed by rushing cars. Collateral damage of human infrastructure. Innocent people killed in war. Collateral damage of human conflict. As I listened to this section, my ears picked up distant rumbling. Thunder? Perhaps. I pause the audiobook and listen for more. Oh, I realize, I am hearing bombs. This guessing game between thunder and bombs frequently happens where I work. On the western slope of Maunaloa, I am measure and tend to native forest seedlings. On the northern slope of Maunaloa, a U.S. military base regularly practices live-fire trainings, munition drills, and bomb dropping on the ‘āina. These two areas on this beautiful Mauna are not far apart yet have such different realities. One area is recovering, on the way to being forests again. The other is still caught in abuse. View of Maunaloa from today’s fieldsite. Hearing bombs is so common here that back in October, when the 6.2 earthquake shook and roared (again, shout out to October - Stories From a Fieldwork Weekend.), my initial thought was that it must be a rogue bomb that missed its target. Only after thinking it was a bomb did my thoughts turn to the possibility that the volcano was just erupting. And lastly that maybe it was an earthquake. Unfortunately, hearing bombs is so common this is the thought process I work through. I also experience this at my M.S. field sites in coastal Georgia. And while helping a friend with wildlife research in Indiana. And several times during my first job after undergrad in the western U.S. And I am not the only field ecologist who has had these experiences with hearing bombs. Even though the bombs spook and upset me, typically, I just carry-on taking care of the trees. But today, I cannot. I take a break and reflect. I take deep breaths. I think of the people in Ukraine who are constantly hearing bombs in their own homes. Not knowing if their home will be next. For me, a practice bomb coming too close would be a mistake. But for many Ukrainians, they know there is no mistake. Then I think of people worldwide who have heard bombs in times of war. Loud messages of death. I think that this is something far too many living beings have heard. Something that unfortunately connects us, a commonality across languages. As usual, my dog, Kolo, is with me in the field today. He is a rescue with some trauma and quirks, one of which is he does not like having his nails trimmed. When I took Kolo to the groomer, she asked me to spell his name. She wondered if she misheard me and that his name was actually Cola, and that she had misheard me. No, K-o-l-o I say. She smiles and says, “Kolo means circle in Ukrainian. That’s where I am from.” So, now when Kolo goes to get his nails trimmed she asks how her circle puppy is doing. Since the most recent invasion of Ukraine started, I often think about her and Kolo meaning circle in Ukrainian. I think about how connected we all are. Sometimes connected in circles, sometimes more like webs, other times direct line connections. Afternoon clouds covering view of Maunaloa, Kolo the dog standing on a rock by a seedling to be planted. This thought reminds me of a lesson our Kumu shared with my graduate cohort in class. She drew two dots on the board and proceeded to show us different ways to connect the dots. First, she drew a straight line, this is what I was expecting. Next, she connected the dots with a circle. Lastly, she connected the dots with crazy, squiggly, roundabout, web-like lines. Our kumu didn’t put any restrictions on connecting the dots. She didn’t ask for the shortest distance or the most “efficient” way. She summarized by saying that the direct line can symbolize a western culture approach and worldview for getting from point A to point B. The circle can be the indigenous approach and worldview for connecting point A to point B. And then the squiggly line/web design that seems to go all over the place from point A yet still comes back to connect to point B, is the kūpuna approach and worldview.
Maybe kolo or circular thinking can help us humans emerge from conflict. Maybe we need kolo kolo or a crawling (Kolo in Hawaiian means to crawl) circle thinking where we think way outside the lines like kūpuna to emerge from conflict. Maybe if we accept that life is complex and interconnected, that we are all beings from this beautiful planet, and that we all have kuleana to do our best and spread aloha, we can emerge from conflict. So those are my thoughts. I know they may seem random. But I do think there is a connecting theme in there and they come full kolo, aka full circle ;)
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AuthorI started this blog as part of my Botany In Action Fellowship through Phipps Conservatory and Botanical Gardens Archives
June 2023
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