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  • 10 things we all can do to help Biodiversity

    The term BIODIVERSITY is used to describe variety and population of non-human life here on Planet Earth. Biodiversity includes everything from tiny microbes to blue whales.
    Global biodiversity is in decline. A recent WWF report, for example, shows non-human vertebrates (that’s birds, fish and non-human mammals), have declined by 50% in number since 1970. Freshwater life has been particularly hard hit.

    We are PART OF NATURE, and so rely upon what it provides to us, like food, drink, medicines and materials. We NEED to protect and encourage LIFE and HABITAT upon which life depends, not only for our own survival and the survival of our descendants but also to give back what we, and generations before us, have taken away. All life here on Planet Earth is extraordinary. In my view, for this reason alone, there is cause enough for humans, despite our own needs, to act with far greater care. Biodiversity is being depleted by the combined actions of our everyday life choices.

    To co-exist with all other life, and to care at all, we need to confront what science is telling us and then act as far as we can. The most direct impacts are by over-harvesting and loss/disturbance of habitat resulting from human development and economic goals.
    Increased pollution, agricultural intensification, nutrient availability and increased CO2 emissions, resulting in climate change, are also to blame.

    Most people don’t actively try to harm nature, and it’s often tricky to see the connections between what we do each day and the consequences as a result. But THERE ARE CONSEQUENCES and analysis uncovers more each day.

    With some simple changes, we CAN, as individuals, lessen our own adverse impacts.
    Remember, as groups of individuals, we have more power to make a difference. So you might want to join up with others who are like-minded and want to act to make the changes required. Here are just ten things that will help reduce your own environmental impact, and thereby your adverse impacts on biodiversity, and in multiple ways. Feel free to think of more!

    Habitat & wildlife

    ONE: Reduce or QUIT the use of pesticides and fertilizers in your gardens. These often have knock-on effects in wildlife populations and run off into water courses with adverse effects for the plants and animals living there. Ask your Local Authority to do the same.

    TWO: Invest and grow wildlife friendly gardens/patios or balconies and choose wildlife-friendly fencing to allow some access. Volunteer for your local wildlife trust, community garden or conservation group. Ask the Local Authority to manage their lands in a biodiversity friendly way.

    Waste

    THREE: Reduce, reuse, and recycle, with an emphasis on REDUCE (buy less non-essential stuff). The less habitat conversion will be necessary to get those resources or the energy to make STUFF, and the less waste goes into the landfill. Compost what you can. Ask your Local Authority for help if you need it.

    FOUR: Use environmentally friendly personal and household cleaning products, for example, distilled vinegar. This reduces chemical contamination of habitats both during manufacturing and when those chemicals go down the drain. Go for BUAV labelled products too. We don’t need to be cruel to animals by endorsing companies who test their commercial products on them.

    Food and the choices we make.

    FIVE: Buy local, organic food and drink. Ask for it if the shops don’t stock it. Expensive? Well, you’ve saved money by acting on POINT THREE. Might as well spend it on decent food. This helps reduce fertilizers and pesticides going into the environment, which in turn reduces negative impacts on nearby beneficial insects (for pollination and pest control) and adjacent freshwater biodiversity. Grow your own if you are able or buy direct from small holdings.

    SIX: Buy sustainably harvested seafood, which avoids ‘by-catch’ of other species. Some trawlers destroy seafloor habitat; many shrimp farms destroy mangrove forests, which are important as nurseries for wild fish species. Ask retailers questions!

    Energy use: By reducing your energy demand, you reduce both carbon dioxide release into the atmosphere, which contributes to climate change, and disturbance of habitat for fossil fuel exploration and extraction. And you make savings.

    SEVEN: Conserve energy in your home. Home energy audits are available from power companies. They know it’s more economical to conserve than having to build new power generating plants. Take advantage of any reasonable government schemes on offer.

    EIGHT: Reduce single-person car use. Car pools, public transport, walking, and bicycling are also options. Look into the growing number of fuel efficient vehicles, electric, hybrid or turbo diesel (tdi) models. Go for an MPG as high as you can find, and check your tyre pressures.

    NINE: Home-buy OR rent, choose a home with renewable energy and/or energy efficiency. Decide what’s most important about your region, your site and your needs, and you can still have a beautiful, comfy home. Think about using green landscaping and building materials and allow for nature in any external design ideas.

    TEN: VOTE! Find out about legislation affecting biodiversity, make contact with your local political representatives, tell them how you feel and ask them what they will do to help. And support people and groups who are acting on long-term ecological sustainability.

    Good luck and talk to your friends and family if you can. Thank you!

    With thanks to David Hooper, Western Washington University, for inspiration on the 10 point structure.

  • “Save these birds for being all that they are”.

    “We are not outside the rest of nature and therefore cannot do with it as we please without changing ourselves … we are a part of the ecosphere just as intimately as we are a part of our own society … Paleontology reveals that the development of life on earth is an integrated process, despite the steadily increasing diversity and complexity. “Life is fundamentally one.” Arne Naess

    I attended Hen Harrier Day yesterday, deep in the Dark Peak of Derbyshire. I didn’t go alone and was accompanied by my wonderful friend @MrsEmma. We arrived to a torrential downpour, which relentlessly soaked us to the bone. For the whole time there was no let-up, but we didn’t care. The rain only seemed to make all shine beneath umbrellas and hoods. And there were many smiles.

    Nearly six hundred people gathered to Derwent Dam, and there were others across the country, to peacefully protest at the unfathomable decline in Hen Harrier populations. In England, where there should at least be three hundred breeding pairs, there are now only three or four. To add insult to injury, males are naturally polygynous, mating with a few females, who now simply do not exist to ensure a healthy population. Hen Harriers are generally ground nesting birds, enjoying young forest growth and open heath. They are vulnerable to land management changes and they have been easy targets.

    So why are they at risk? Because of the self interest of the few. Land managers who rear red grouse to be shot by paying guests on moorland shooting estates have allowed the illegal killing of this most spectacular raptor species in order to protect their perceived interests. The law is firm on the illegalities of these actions, but for whatever reason, people have failed these stunning, sentient beings. Worse, In closed circles I have over heard a shot hen harrier may still be deemed a valuable trophy by some, despite their obvious catastrophic decline; an overt expression of human dominion over the natural world, if ever there was one.

    So it was with sadness that I planned to attend yesterday, but I am very glad that I did. Knowing there are like-minded souls is a huge boost to the delicate morale of an environmentalist these days, and Emma and I were very fortunate to meet a few, not least conservationist and author, Mark Avery, who set Hen Harrier Day in motion with the BAWC and young Findlay Wilde who had lovingly sculpted a hen harrier ‘Harry’ and brought it for us all to sign.  

    Chris Packham, raptor scientist and Presenter, no less impassioned by these losses, spoke sincerely about what he perceives as the injustice of the loss of our Natural Heritage by a few bad apples within the shooting industry, who seek to take away our enjoyment of nature for their own selfish purposes. We conservationists have failed by not preventing this happening. More, by taking away predators, these criminals know not fully what they do. Ecosystems do not function healthily without predator/prey interaction, even though some shooters believe they are, of course, the ultimate predator with an omniscient remit to control. Little do they know.

    There is no doubt that most of us attending yesterday did so because we are passionate about the natural world. We humans are integral to it. We are one. This planet is one. Our love for all life is a love for ourselves also. But some are obviously so blind to that connection that any protection mechanism sadly needs to be founded beyond love. That is why laws are formed and exist to be upheld. It is a tragedy that the law in this case has been flagrantly broken. These crimes are rooted in human centredness, money, short-term wants and wishes.

    To my mind, we should save them not, therefore, because of any alternative human short-term wants and wishes, for these shape-change at the shallow end of human drive.

    Who are we to pick and choose what and what not to love, what species we deny life to for our own selfish purposes, particularly for greed? The right to life and existence is strong. It has taken millions of years for Hen Harriers AND Red Grouse in the wild to evolve into the individuals they are (in my view, red grouse should be afforded similar protection and the guns laid down for good; an argument for another day). These birds have worth in their own right, for their own sake. They have a will to flourish.

    Yesterday, I went to Hen Harrier Day not for people and their needs, I went for Hen Harriers. I’m not a birder per se, you see, I am passionate about all life here on Earth and I am a mother who believes that all living things have intrinsic worth.

    “Save these birds for being all that they are”.

    Despite differences, rooted in love, we all responded yesterday to Mark, Chris and the dedicated BAWC’s call to act. Act we must. These are good people and they know that we can all play a part in the recovery of the Hen Harrier. There is power in number and justice in doing the right thing. We simply cannot allow these birds to disappear without a fight. Fight we will, and as Chris Packham said on the day, “we will win”.

    For more information, please visit http://birdersagainst.org/projects/hen-harrier-day/

  • Light Seeking

    Light Seeking

    14753712546_f90296ebb5Sometimes, we may find light in unexpected places. These thistle flowers hung low on broken stems; a strimmer had been too busy along the verge here. But a common carder bumble bee had not given up hope of a drink of nectar and began to fly almost upside down to alight, ever so gently, on the petals. Light bounced around its blurry wings and hair-like sensilla, shining directly from the Sun and reflecting up from the light brown stems of last week’s clippings. I looked upon this tiny sunlit being in awe. And then I quickly stole an image.

  • The lightness of being in the dark – reconnecting with nature

    The lightness of being in the dark – reconnecting with nature

    Last night I sat quietly outside in the dark. I don’t know for how long but, in a way, this makes it more meaningful.The sky to the North glistened with stars and my eyes drifted across them from West to East. I dreamed of other worlds, other life. Soon the stars vanished and re-emerged as broken cloud began to fill the sky, something I remember registering as a child.

    I could hear a plane’s low whine high up, and I instinctively tracked ahead of the sound to discover lights blinking before watching them disappear behind the mist. I thought about where this plane might be going and why.

    Closer to home, a tawny owl was deep in conversation with another far across the valley. I wondered what they might be saying to each other. I recollected, these weren’t the usual mating calls.

    Lost in thought, I felt a whisp of air across my cheek, as if my daughter was kissing me softly. I couldn’t see a thing; another breeze on the same cheek then a whirl of a wing. I soon recognised these were bats after the small moths around me. They were unafraid of me yet aware and I concluded it was a privilege to be so near them.

    Experience, to me, is both sense-perception and reasoning through innate inquisitivity. Whether this equals knowledge or truth is another step, one I’m exploring through study right now.

    But I think, in a similar way, we may sense and ask questions of ourselves by embracing these nature-connecting experiences more often, and in the engineering of our own consents rather than allowing others to grant them to us. In doing so we might just cultivate self-trust, discovering more light in our personal darkness than we ever thought possible.

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  • Cool Springs Rise

    For my mother.

     

    Cool springs rise to The Craft’s steep slope

    filtering to a twisted pipe.

    On warm days lambs will sip in hope

    before it drains beneath the yarrow.

     

    Floods benignly feed

    our silty depths; a pool within the fold.

    Rain in plenty, now.

    In seventy-six this well was dry and rusty.

     

    That year, old George would recollect

    the well once pumped a seamless flow

    for healthy stock and wartime folk;

    village life in unity.

     

    I made the dimpled well my den,

    hid from Germans and most gentlemen.

    In bolder times, I’d spy from naive Front,

    amidst our lofty blue delphiniums

     

    as George would guard

    and tend the scented borders.

    Not long before his death,

    his daughter brought him to our yard.

     

    Tall man sat, weak,

    leaned toward his walking stick,

    smiled and spoke of cherry,

    hops and bonfires;

     

    of cider makers’ hands.

    Sometimes, in smoke borne light

    he’d hear them sing

    a tune from home ~ in Italy.

     

    Our well is full with bracing rain,

    soaks the borders once again.

    The tank’s old tin is freshly painted green

    and by a tenor’s grandson.

     

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  • River dipper

    I take a deep breath and turn to my family with a wry smile. I walk out until I can walk no more. Out of my depth, my feet lift from the slippery river bed and I slowly swim in circles beneath the alders. Here I am, I still exist, and despite the initial shock! The water is enveloping. My breath is quick, snatched through clenched teeth. The water is icy here in shadow. I have all the time in the world to adjust; it’s a beautiful day.

    As I reach out in symmetrical waves, like an oversized amphibian, flora brush against my bare ankles. Sun light sparkles on circling ripples. I decide to make for the light and some heat, relishing every move, stretching every sinew of my ageing body. But the water is deeper here and, beneath those glinting stars, jet black. There will be big fish I can’t see. Deep breath, swim on against the flow, aware that I don’t feel cold anymore. Perhaps all feeling is lost. It doesn’t matter! So I relax a little and take in the brightness, the sun’s heat on my face, glimpsing the movement of my hands beneath the water. The air is damp, earthy and organic.

    The flow is suddenly faster here, deceptive river! I have to kick my legs with energy, freestyle, boiling the water. An electric thought races through my mind ~ what if I am swept away? And then, just as quickly, the thought is gone.

    I turn to face downstream and the riffles below this perfect pool on the Wye. Small boulders and shallow white water give clue to where I could emerge, if I just let go…

    There is a dipper dipping there, with a white chest like a cotton ball against the teals and tans of the river. My decision is swift. I swim directly to the riverbank, avoiding this beauty who is hunting for his life. I don’t want to disturb him. A quick burst of energy and my feet find purchase in the shallows, currents pulling at my feet ~ the river desires me to return. I can’t help grinning and feel the rush of warmth as blood returns to my skin.

    It is a meditation, river swimming. Try it, but somewhere safe and don’t go alone. It’s liberating and free of charge. Plus, it reminds us we are alive and at one with nature. Enjoy.

  • The Ladybird and the Ring

    Treasure

    Today is a beautiful day and I hold a perfect Summer gem in my hand. She’s a 5-spot ladybird, Coccinella 5-punctata, flown to me as I perch by the river’s edge watching Ben, our collie-cross, playing in the shallows.

    Coccinella 5-punctata are a common ladybird in Europe, but endangered here in the UK. They’re usually associated with river shingle, but I found and recorded a new colony a couple of years ago on a local limestone slab which plunges into the River Wye upstream from where I live. So they are, perhaps, a little more adaptable than at first thought here in the extremes of their comfortable range in Europe.

     
    This little female is a living gem, an invertebrate with eyes and a mouth, a body and legs. Although she could represent an archetype or form of what the word ‘ladybird’ means to us, she is distinct in minute ways from any other female in the species and is certainly not an automaton. She interacts with her environment, taking in oxygen, exhaling carbon dioxide, eating aphids, making choices. She creates a home among the wild chives and thyme, which bind thin soils in the imperfections of the rock. This habitat thrives. It thrives despite an annual torrent of floods punching at the slab and submerging it for days at a time under fast, red silty flow. A male of the species (or two) pursues, mates with her, she lays eggs, they hatch, grow into nymphs and on into adulthood. And the rhythm of it all begins again the following year. This annual heartbeat is part of a wider ensemble, the musicality of ecological longevity.

     
    Wrapped around my ring finger is a band of gold. This was my mother’s wedding ring (I lost mine on a beach somewhere far away). I inherited it after her sudden death. I don’t wear it often, but today it is worn as a reminder of her and that I still love her dearly. When I woke this morning, I had not expected to be seated here by the river with two such valuable things to hand. A ladybird, rare or otherwise, and my mother’s ring, both of which I treasure.

    Of course the treasures I describe differ. And I see one as more ‘good’ than the other. I value life.

    Value theory, or axiology as the science of value, is a key area in academic philosophy though perhaps itself undervalued by the environmental movement as a whole. The word ‘value’ simply derives from the language of economics and further ‘use value’ divides into two distinct areas, satisfaction and admiration. The smaller teleological group of ethical theories asserts that if an action is ‘good’ in terms of moral conduct it will bring about ‘good’ consequences. The deontological or duty based group would suggest the actions can be deemed good without regard for consequences, like adhering to rules, whether or not the consequences are positive or negative.

     
    Returning to the treasures I have in hand: These are, of course, not actions but objects with differing properties and the things that, perhaps, unite them are that they are both in my hand and that I’ve called them ‘treasures.’ But I interact with them and so it is a good thing to examine the ethics of my consideration of them.

     
    This gold band is something which, without humans, would be largely valueless to all other life on this planet. In theory it serves to enrich human monetary wealth in its mass-production and existence, human aesthetics in its glittering beauty and the value of human relationships in some way through symbolism, giving and receiving. This particular ring is not particularly extraordinary and neither is its history. Other hand-crafted rings may be but this is a mass-produced ring, with gold probably industrially mined in South Africa. If it were injurious in its making, I will never know. That it was my mother’s wedding ring my father gave to her at the particular Church where they are now buried together, means much to me, but perhaps little to you. It was once lost in a garden ash tip and my grandmother found it after hours of painstaking search much to the relief of my mother. So in some way it also reminds me of my grandmother, who I was dearly fond of and whom, it is said, I take after in looks and temperament. It was on my mother’s ring finger when I found her after she had died, so there’s an emotional link remaining, even after much counselling. Once I am done with this life myself, I hope my daughter will have it. Whether she will value it as I do is unknown. Perhaps she will sell it and use the money for a number of things, or experiences (my preferred choice), or exchange it for something else of equivalent economic value. She may even choose to keep it.

     
    A 5-spot ladybird is of absolute intrinsic value to itself, its mates and its offspring. Given ecological homeostatis, it will hold in balance the things it eats and the things that may eat it. As such it benefits the wider biosphere in a small way, the one of course in which we humans are also a part. The instrumental value, extrinsic, use-value of the entire biosphere to human life is where some conservationists focus, as the foundation upon which to build a protection system. “We cannot destroy the biosphere because we rely on it” for our physical, mental and spiritual well being. In other words, we save it for the sake of ourselves. There is one significant failure in this approach, however. It is our species selfishness, or dominion, held over all other life forms and unreliable as a method of protection. It is the same ethic which caused environmental degradation in the first instance. For example, if this tiny ladybird be deemed dispensable in any overall anthropocentric assessment of the state of the biosphere, its extrinsic value falls immediately away. If a species like fox be classed a threat to humans, say via the spread of rabies, human selfishness would allow ourselves carte blanche to eradicate fox. Yet we are unsure just how many individuals, let alone species, life on this planet can do without before catastrophic collapse. We don’t even know the full extent of our impacts to date, let alone predict with any viable certainty what will happen in future. So in terms of the protection of individuals and species, extrinsic valuation of non-human life as first principle is a high risk human strategy, given the pressures also weighing down upon nature from other human demands, such as water and minerals and now climatic change.

     
    Human pluralistic values are unavoidable, inevitable and culturally enriching. To blithely instruct others to dispel their beliefs and value systems I admit is a step too far, even if the intent is good. Better to value those values, encourage new ways of thinking through education, collective and inter-disciplinary discourse, citizenship. Treasuring life in most ways is ultimately going to lead to protection in some form. But with pluralistic value sets there will be priorities of judgment and these will impact outcomes. The problem with money in our capitalist pro-growth economy is that it overrides (often legislatively), pluralistic values. The ultimate questions are what is best for Planet Earth as a whole and are those human actions just? It so happens that what is best for humans will be determined by the health of the planet; there is mutuality.

     
    My reasoned belief is that we are at a point in time when a value shift would enhance the cause for environmental protection. Absolute intrinsic value (even as opposed to relative intrinsic value), is something we cannot let go of completely. The ladybird in my hand is alive, and should be free to flourish. Sentience is hugely important, of course, but not essential for intrinsic value. All life should be afforded similar thought, at the very least. However, our own existence relies on the taking of other life in some form or another, as we participate in food chains and creating our own habitats, just as other lifeforms here on Earth do so.

    The question remains, however, how much should or shouldn’t we take? Less is one answer but I will write again about the ‘how much’. For now I suggest we also have to look carefully at moral standing as well as relative intrinsic worth but I would always encourage intrinsics to be somewhere near, if not at, the top of the list. To treasure life is to hold dear, cherish and love unconditionally, without expectation or fear, and we could all be very much more connected to nature this way.

  • Pheasant

    The body lies in a clearing

    long, tan feathers broken in a breeze
    quiet for a few minutes, washed up
    from an array of shades, the place
    where they gave chase.
     
    Body exhales in the sun, yellow eyes
    set in red shivvers, blue-green throat
    crushed by loners; there is no blood.
     
    The wood’s cool ambition repels
    a body that did not make it;
    little tenderness in claw and beak.
    Since the body could not embrace,
    its finery is the tomb of the wood
    still warm for new beginnings.
  • Snake Goddess, a modern emblem?

    Snake Goddess, a modern emblem?

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    ‘Medusa.’ What image comes to mind at the mention of her name? I doubt very much if it is one of renewal and wisdom.

    The Hellenic myth of Medusa remains as metaphor for all that is wicked and vendictive in the world. Homer, the ancient Greek poet, drew her literary character as the epitome of ugliness and danger, with large glaring eyes, into which no-one should ever look unless wishing to be turned to stone, and hissing snakes for hair, each one ready for that lethal strike.

    But the root of the snake symbol is more ancient than any Greek myth or religion: The Egyptian Ouroboros, represented as the circle of a snake devouring its own tail, was a common emblem of cyclicity, the seasons, the eternal return, death and the renewal; the Minoan Snake Goddess was worshipped as a symbol of naturalism and grace; the Celts and early Pagans used the image of a snake in a similar way; before that, an hypothesis stands of a Neolithic Great Mother, with multi-functional powers of priest, ruler and warrior, and of plant and animal cultivator and protector. Indeed, some of the earliest human artefacts are depictions of women, recreated in the image of a snake-bird goddess, not of an evil female presence, but a depiction of all that is good. This neolithic woman co-existed with animals instead of conquering them. Her eyes were large, owl-like, and her locks were snakes, above the neck, as an animalistic indication of high wisdom and prophetic powers, rather than spite and hostility.
    The Greek myth diverges: All three dreaded Gorgons were sisters, two of them immortal, Stheno and Euryale; Medusa was the only mortal one, but into her eyes all men may look and stop, dead, turned to stone. Using the mirror of his shield in order to look upon her without fear of death, demigod Perseus was guided by the owl-like Goddess Athena to decapitate Medusa and use her stare, even beyond death, to save Andromeda from the sea monster Cetus. The head was said to have been placed upon the heroic Athena’s breastplate as lethal ward. Medusa’s serpentine image remains as one of the earliest stone temple pediments in Hellenic Greece, carved around 600 BC: A symbolic defense against all evil; wickedness against all wickedness.

    So, the Owl and the Serpent Woman of all that is good seems to have tumbled down through generations of oral stortelling and split into the brave owl goddess Athena and the wicked snake-like Medusa. Brennan Root refers to Athena and Medusa as shadow sisters, the light and the dark, with an interwoven story as one and the same but divided by misfortune and mortality. Both icons appear to have been preserved in modern culture. But here-in lies a tragedy.

    Remember, for the majority of human history, the symbol of snake has been one of birth, death and rebirth. For the snake sheds its old skin, only to live on in a new state of being.

    Pre-Christian agrarian Mesopotamia imagined prototypes of snake gods to fear, and these were most likely replicated by the Judeo-Christian tradition thereafter, in the perils of the Garden of Eden. Perhaps, it was the abandonment of hunter-gathering for cultivating the land by hand which changed our human relationship with snakes. Inevitably, there would have been an increased risk of an early death, for both farmer and snake. If snake denies man immortality, then the Serpent of Eden is the ultimate representation.

    The Egyptian war goddess, Neith, is cited by Plato as the inspiration for Athena, said again to have been rooted in a Mesopotamian owl goddess, resulting in the Greek ideal of womanhood in Athena; of strength and purity. What of Medusa as woman? Ovid, the Roman poet, claimed the mythological Medusa was a woman of immense beauty, perhaps a nod to her early virtuous incarnations. Athena, the virgin goddess, turned her into a monster/victim in a fit of jealousy, after Poseidon raped her in Athena’s own Temple. Feminists of the 20th Century seized upon Medusa as, therefore, a symbol for both victim of men and of retaliatory strength. Here was a woman who could deaden a man’s voyerism and render him nothing but a cold lump of stone. Her gaze was victor in the face of patriarchy. By contrast, the Russian philosophical Nihilists of the 1860’s had said those who do not stare into Medusa’s eyes fear reality, that life is without meaning, purpose, or intrinsic value. It is unfortunate that Medusa as deterrent to voyeurism appears to have been somewhat eroded very recently by Hirst and Rihanna in their photo shoot for GQ magazine, where the male gaze is actively encouraged to pour over Medusa’s form (and snakes) as sexual objects. Although there is a vague resemblance here to the Abrahamic religious symbolism of snake as sexual desire, it’s far less complex, and therefore, less rich in meaning, simply by its empty, commercial objectification. A sign of our time.

    I prefer to imagine the cultural richness of some kind of neo-neolithic snake goddess. Faced with anthropogenic environmental impacts, I think we could steal ourselves anew and look deep into Medusa’s big owl-eyes, which search for light far into darkness. We can embrace the wisdom of her serpent locks and reclaim the image of snake as all that is good about this ever-renewing world. It is not that I wish all humans to be turned to stone or return to the stone age! Her image could be re-imagined as one of insight, wisdom and integration, an affirmative message from our neolithic ancestors. And if we can face down those fears of imminent death and sweep aside any notion of Medusa as victim, perhaps we may re-draw her character for the modern age, of the strength of the wilder things and the wild inside us all.

  • What might Heraclitus mean by claiming that, ‘We step and we do not step into the same rivers, we are and we are not.’? Discuss as an issue concerning our knowledge and perception of the world.

    Introduction

    Heraclitus was borne from an early age of human enlightenment, at a time when the study of religion and poetry proved simply not enough to satiate a human hunger for knowledge and understanding of nature and existence. Homer’s epics, the Iliad and Odyssey, though linguistically direct, were not omniscient and, given the few bones or fragments known to us via successive writers, Heraclitus appeared unwilling to dispel spiritual existence altogether. His work may be viewed as a bridge between ancient, divine poetry and modern, philosophical and scientific thought, a radical and valuable place in human development.
    Heraclitus was critical of the few great Western thinkers before him. Pythagorus, he suggested, had a highly selective formula for wisdom and maintained a ‘bad craft’ of learning. Understandably, his words have been interpreted by others as misanthropy. But the value of his critiques, the notion of radicalism as catalyst for the change, may be key to the assemblage of our knowledge to date. He himself may well have been a misanthrope, and wished Homer ‘beaten’, but we would be wrong to constrain our assessments of great ideas by inferred personal weakness. We’d have to dismiss much of attained human understanding to date.
    Priest says the pre-eminent role of philosophy is to ‘challenge, question and object’, to be prompted ‘out of mistakes, stupidities and complacencies’ and so to encourage creative and constructive ideas. Levy hopes that by encompassing the history of philosophy, or let us say, remembering, perhaps continental and analytic disciplines can unite in a combination of relevance AND depth. Where better to look than the history of Heraclitus’ mysterious river fragments, the linkage between this fragment and his elegant notion of ‘Logos’, as the principle of order and knowledge.

    ‘…in the midst of all nature’s constant flux and opposites, Heraclitus saw an Entity or one-ness. This “something”, which was the source of everything, he called God or Logos’. ( Jostein Gaarder).

    The Milesian school of thinkers, chiefly, Thanes and Anaximenes, had already begun to define all things by uniformity and searched for cosmic laws outside the influence of the gods. Heraclitus is noted as a monist in that fire is the underlying and universal substance of all things. I question this assertion. Heraclitus’ fire is sacred, therefore, divine and not necessarily material, that ‘the unity of things was to be found in their essential structure or arrangement rather than their material’. Herein lies a fathomable heresy: There is no substance.

    Heraclitus’ fragments amount to over one hundred separate sentences, probably part of a more finished work entitled, ‘On Nature.’ They have been documented by successive authors, not least in Plato, Cratylus and by Aristotle. The Stoics, with their metaphysical ideas on divine fire like the Pyrrhonists, referenced him also, and we may continue to see Heraclitus’ influence down through the centuries, philosophical threads woven through time and the human cause.

    The River Fragment

    There seems two major literary references viable as Heraclitus’ original words.
    B12. potamoisi toisin autoisin embainousin hetera kai hetera hudata epirrei. On those stepping into rivers staying the same other and other waters flow. (Cleanthes from Arius Didymus from Eusebius) or The G.W.T. Patrick translation ‘To those entering the same river, other and still other waters flow’.
    B49a. potamois tois autois … Into the same rivers we step and do not step, we are and are not. (Heraclitus Homericus)
    Although I am asked to respond to B49a, scholars such as GWT Patrick and Prof. James E. Mahon are minded that the first translation is more likely to have been derived from an Ionic Greek syntax during the 69th Olympiad. Kirk, Raven and Schofield’s view is that there is uncertainty on authenticity but a translation as follows reveals a more ‘natural and unforced Ionic (language) and having the characteristic rhythm of archaic prose’. They translate,
    ‘Upon those who step into the same rivers different and different waters flow.’

    Unity of Opposites, the Logos and Spirit

    Heraclitus, of The City of Ephesus, along with a limited number of free and able contemporaries around five hundred BC, looked for permanence in a reality of apparent change. Unlike others he sought not to absolve constancy nor change but celebrated the tensions between. A Unity of Opposites applies to all things, not least the forces within us; life-death, waking-sleeping, youth-age and the change is changing. If change is in flux then the Logos, the oneness of all things, is fluidity, like a river.
    The river is an analogy, but it is also something tangible. The river, Heraclitus supposed, shared characteristics with the Logos, something to which we can all relate through time. Others have compared the river to our human soul. ‘For, wishing to show that the vaporized souls are always of an intellectual nature, he (Heraclitus) compared them to a river, saying, “To those entering the same river, other and still other waters flow.” And souls are exhalations from moisture’.

    Into the same rivers we step and do not step, we are and are not.

    Is this Heraclitus’ dictum, law and deduced by logical thinking? I think not. Heraclitus is appealing to the senses in the first instance ‘into the rivers we step’, to draw us in to the coolness and wetness of rushing water, the flow of being. It is a life affirming thing to do. He then appeals to our sensibilities, because we can decide not to step into the flow, to remain without experience of what is most enriching. If we choose not to experience the flow through our senses, then we deny ourselves the fullness of being.
    Obliqueness is purposefully constructed for the adventure of philosophical inquiry. We may view the fragment as an open question, presented as a doxa or teacher’s argument. Heraclitus invites us to explore with our our ultimate goal (The Telos), being the uncovering of the Logos. The Ethos is finding our spiritual path to truth and this is a good thing.
    Additionally, since nature prefers to hide, as a conscious intent, humans have to be particularly deliberate and ‘awake’ to find and ‘step into’ it. Here stands Heraclitus somewhere along a line of tension between God and Science, a bridge between the Logos as infinite and Earthly as finite.
    Perhaps what also sets Heraclitus apart from early Western predecessors is his view that the Logos is within us all. We are part of nature and subject to its fluidity. We are a unity of forces in flux. The pattern of human life and the pattern of cosmic order are the same. And here we may see a connection with the mystics of the East and West. God is within, and so we see a deeply spiritual connection. The Port of Ephesus was also a key trading hub, with ships coming in from the Orient and so likely also to bring novel ideas, from Buddha, Lao Tse, Confucius and earlier, perhaps the Vedanta religion from India.

    Literal Relevance

    Change or universal ‘flux’ is as pertinent and profound today as it was at any other point in time. During the Anthropocene, this age of man-made climate and rapid biodiversity changes, it would be remiss to neglect Heraclitus. We may well find no finite resolution but insight in that all states of existence pass. In many ways science is still investigating truth in this claim, post Einstein’s Theory of Relativity via metaphysical space time theory and temporal logic. But by consciously analysing the fragments, memory may be transformed by modernity, as Hannah Arendt implies, ‘in order to’ progress.
    The river analogy demonstrates both the sameness of what we universally recognise as a geographical feature, the different states of the river and one’s relationship to them at any singular point in time or space. The argument holds that a wholeness described can also be made up of several different entities and connections. In the case of rivers, we can perceive and understand through scientific investigation, that they consist of water molecules, energy, light, geology and life all in a state of aerobic and anaerobic process across the fourth dimension, time.
    A river, therefore, is a pattern, subject to change, with dynamic phenomena that can be studied in some detail, for instance, by the science of hydromorphology.
    But we also allocate Proper Nouns, in order to make a specific river distinguishable from another. To name is to find commonality for reference, culturally or otherwise. It can also unify a collective, as in a watershed, and ultimately enrich meaning and communal responsibility in our lives.
    The River Wye in the Welsh Borders used to be known as the Vaga. Some say this derives from the Latin, ‘wonderer’ or the Anglo Saxon, Weag (and Gwy in Welsh), and the river surely has wondered across the land and also in human consciousness. It has been altered by evolving ecologies, particularly by the current dominant ecological stressor, Man. Some parts of its course have been modified for irrigation. Farming methods, riparian tree clearance, pollution, invasive introductions and fishing all continue to play a part. Never-the-less, to humans it remains the ‘Wye’. For all other life, we do not know.
    The Cayster River, the Küçük Menderes, “Little Meander”, or the Kaystros, rises from Mount Ida, flowing westward through Homeric Trojan battle fields and into the Aegean at Pamucak beach near Selçuk, Turkey. It once flowed into the Port of Ephesus, which is now silted up. The coastal zone has advanced and the ruins of Ephesus now lie miles inland.
    Heraclitus must have known The Cayster very well, which is perhaps why the river fragment exists at all. The river was also key in Homer’s stories of the Trojan War, as backdrop to infamous battles scenes. But one imagines, the two men related to this river rather differently.
    At whichever point I visit along the length of the Wye, I often lose perception of my own sense of time. This is a very good thing for me, and may have been so for Heraclitus. There are healing processes at work. Worries and fears dissipate into the strong vortex of life, water and rock that is the ‘river’. It compels and sustains. But an ancient river has worth of its own exceeding all of our combined human needs. It is, from source to sea, in a seemingly perpetual cycle, responding to climate by expanding and contracting, like breath. Its course wanders over, under and through time, melting towards the sea. Geology, morphology, ecology, war, plunder, possession; it has endured the changes. And the river will respond accordingly to our meddling with the atmosphere and climate, building on flood plains and decimating structural woodland, by flood and by erosion. It is in the river’s nature, The Logos, the nature of energy, to want to spread out.
    Long into the future, perhaps the winds may change direction, continents will divide again, the Wye’s entire length may disappear, consumed by new geological action and climates. There may be traces of its ancient form and life in the rock, and these may, in turn, erode to dust and silt the rivers a billion years from now. A cycle within cycles.
    ‘A river revealed in a flash of lightning is as thick and quivering as gelatin. And yet, measured against a millennium, a mountain melts down the sides of the valley and pours into the sea’. (Kathleen Dean Moore)
    One person’s lifespan is a blink of an eye to the river. All things relative, of course: My own perceptions of time may be faster than the veteran oak or the pearl mussel, slower than the needle fly or sand martin. And we experience the river as uniquely as we are species. Fast or slow. Yet it is our meeting point. Ebb or flow, whirlpool or riffle, all the senses engaged, memories will be in the making. The Wye is different, yet the same.

    Problems

    There are difficulties, of course, firstly that language must be used carefully in finely distinguishing one moment from another, aspects of the river and the ones who steps into it, through time. Socrates is said to have been critical of Heraclitus’ vagueness but one might also judge any obscurity as intentional and provocative. Heraclitus’s opaque use of language may have been be symbolic of his frustration with the Artemisian faithful, as if he wanted to provoke discussion outside of the norm of political discussion and challenge religious dogma. Laertus tells us Heraclitus was scathing in his criticism of those who remained ‘asleep’, for the blind faithful can be easily mislead. To have faith is to trust blindly, and Heraclitus wished not to be blind. But his language was not monumental and unmoveable but open to interpretation, ephemeral and fluid. Like a river.
    Secondly, The Logos, the word, the One True God, is referred to as a Proper Noun, something which Heraclitus claims to understand and know well, as opposed to all others. This can be viewed as elitism, as Geldard says Popper implies in his book, The Open Society and its Enemies. Elitism is not a virtuous thing unless you are minded that hierarchies and closed systems are good and that all things are not equal. Perhaps the only constant is change itself, so God is change, and this may be Heraclitus’ most heretic claim. Heresy? Geldard calls it aversive thought, through which ‘we might learn via provocation and not instruction’ as Ralph Waldo Emerson also suggests.

    Fire and the river; a cycle of rebirth

    To Heraclitus, sacred fire was eternal. It is not hard to imagine the significance of fire for people of the Eastern Mediterranean, so near to the South Aegean Volcanic Arc. Around a thousand years earlier, the Minoan settlement at Akrotiri was destroyed by the catastrophic phreato-magmatic eruption of Mount Thera, now known as the island of Santorini. Heraclitus will have most likely read Titanomachy in Hesiod’s Theogony, which was inspired by traditional oral storytelling of the event passed down through generations.
    We know that a fire can sequentially ignite and snuff out, which does not occur at the same time unless, perhaps, in parallel universes. But if Heraclitus’s ‘fire’ is energy, or better still, entropy, which he could not have perceived scientifically at the time, then we are seeing something extraordinarily consistent with recent theories of the cosmos. That the energy of the Logos, the constant change, is the arrow of time. Couple this with the idea that the universe itself is in a symmetrical cycle of expansion and contraction, like a hand opening and closing, we can see here a constant state of flux but one that renews again and again in a way that a river is constantly refreshed by evaporation and condensation causing rain in the hills, which drains to the sea and so on.
    The Big Bang theory becomes something other than the beginning, but a part of an enormous rhythm of energy amongst matter, where the universe expands and contracts repeatedly like love and hate or the ‘Brahma opening his third eye’ each time all things begin again.
    The sequence of days, the cycle of months, the rhythm of seasons, form years. Time flows constantly like a river, like life and death, change and recurrence. As the River Cayster silted at its mouth, eventually rendering the City of Ephesus a distant memory, the river is ever dying and reborn, it preserves the form of ‘river’, one specific to its history, current existence and its future. Without joy, there is sorrow so where there is joy there follows there shall be sorrow.

    Strife

    The unity of opposites provide the tensions needed in nature for existence. One could take it further still and say that all things exist in a unity of opposites, in that all can either exist or not. Life, for example, flows from the tension between existence and non-existence, the fight for survival; conflicts, large or small, which all encounter and hopefully mediate in order to find peace and to flourish.
    Are opposites always to be in conflict? Often there is an assumption that we have to make choices between opposites. Capitalism OR Equality, Rural OR urban. Nature OR agriculture. Perhaps it is not always A OR B as our adversarial political system would so frequently have us believe. A and B are often ill-defined intentionally, to reinforce prejudice and encourage division amongst the populous for the sake of political gain. As an example, we may be forced to choose, say, between energy and black-outs, when it is energy and climate which are actually at odds but intrinsically connected.
    I would disagree that these ‘connections’ exist in a permanent state of conflict. However we may find ‘JUSTICE’ somewhere along the line of tension. This could be interpreted as compromise, of course, but maybe in doing so, perhaps, we can see the merit of what Heraclitus was proposing. The identity of a ‘river’ remains in tact, but its structure is in a constant state of alteration. ‘The identity of the river is one of form and physical continuity, but not of material identity or preservation of the same content’ Flux, like a flickering flame, is the nature of time, and time is a multiplier of all things. Yet all things may unify again perhaps via a subatomic strata of existence. But also the river is external to us and universal energy is something in which we step in and out. River, energy, flow may be seen as a symbolic construction. It is here that we may see Heraclitus demonstrating language as a microcosm of the cosmos and we’d do well to pay more attention to it.

    Depth

    ‘Listen to the Logos and not to me’ says Heraclitus and you should expect the unexpected. The Logos informs us, or not, via our own newly discovered alertness. Heidegger says this is what is called thinking “from the start tuned in a negative key” or otherwise known as an apophatic paradox. All that is put to us may be questioned. Nothing is, therefore, taken for granted and so we may become dedicated to the ‘road to truth’ .
    Catherine Osborne proposes that Heraclitus may have presented fire as one stage of a sequence, the Bang of the Big Bang, to which all things return and begin again. But if we set his words in the context (Ephesus around 500 BC), Osborne’s assertion of Heraclitus’ vision of fire is a radical discontinuity of matter, like death and rebirth. He may not, therefore, be the monist he is purported to be.
    ‘His system bears some resemblance to Empedocles’s thesis of eternal recurrence, and what Nietzsche found so familiar in Heraclitus was not a material cosmology but the tension of opposites that defined the world as a kind of warfare.’
    The process of organic adaptive change driven by chance, and now proven to a great extent by genetics, is the Darwinian evidence to support Heraclitus, in that it is change, but not necessarily conflict, which drives evolution. We couldn’t say that inorganic, physical tensions of vulcanicity or continental plate-tectonics are consciously in battle, though consciousness does still concern science today.
    Darwin’s theory of natural selection, based on variation, inheritance, struggle and adaptation is the first aspect of his contribution to human thought. But it is his second point, on life’s common ancestry, the tree of life in which we may find the interconnectedness between all things and the organic moral community. Does Heraclitus, as Nietzche suggests, ‘raise the curtain on this greatest of all dramas?’ War is not, however, the fundamental truth to all things though it may be the behaviour of organic life from time to time. The pragmatist, John Dewey, like Darwin, saw nature as a system in constant change, as indeed are philosophical problems themselves. Existence is a risk, and we are compelled to adapt to survive. There is uncertainty in choosing which path to follow. Firstly, there is the path of appealing to a higher Being to reveal our destinies. Secondly, there’s the path where we ourselves begin to unveil nature’s mysteries and therefore our own destinies. Taken to extreme, however, the first path can lead to apathy, and the second path could lead to a very anthropocentric world whereby we can learn to control nature only to suit our ends. The two opposites can soon be seen as being in tension with each other. The second path can lead to a great epiphany, by unravelling the mysteries of nature, and is therefore more of a good thing than bad. Heraclitus shows us that ethics and metaphysics are also bound.
    Wittgenstein insisted Darwin’s work has had no impact on philosophy and is entirely separate. I can’t agree. If we look at Heraclitus’s philosophical assertions on flux and Darwin’s scientific analysis of adaptation, we can see that both are inherently interconnected by cause and effect. With the principles of progressive evolution and the theory of natural selection, moreover, we can see that tension is essential.
    If tension between opposites did not exist then Heraclitus is proposing the universe may fall apart. But peace and war, rather than tension, is limited to organic matter. Absolute peace might mean the collapse of ecosystems but war is not an end in itself. It is just as possible that truth is peace, and that peace is attainable, in the same way that there is a difference between myself and the river into which I step. I am not the Logos, but the Logos is within me and the River.

    Conclusion

    The Logos may be a quasi-spiritual flow of energy that both surrounds us and pulses within. It is something we cannot be, but it is part of us. We are and we are not. The universe, within and beyond our knowledge may be ephemeral in that it is in a constant state of change. The cosmos contains a series of opposing factors, between which oscillates existence along a connecting line of tension.
    It is difficult to separate Heraclitus elegant notion of Logos from his rivers fragment, as one demonstrates the existence of the other twofold; by the unity of opposites (the sameness and differences) and by the amorphousness of flux. It is only by awakening from our own slumbers and making a personal journey that we may reach true enlightenment. That flux and opposites exist, even if we do not perceive them, means that we must partake in actively discovering them.
    Heraclitus is right to suggest that each person, nee life form, entering the same river will perceive it slightly or intensely different from any other life form. Literally, both it and we are changing, therefore, change is the constant as it is throughout the universe (via entropy). If the river, as GWT Patrick asserts, means the exhalation of our soul, then this too will evolve, flux and alter each time it is revisited. We grow.
    As the fragments are generally short and synonymous they may be interpreted as ideas Heraclitus expects us to challenge. Heraclitus might, therefore, be an instigator of philosophical reactive thought, as by example, Aristotle reacts, ‘ But one could quickly force Heraclitus himself to admit that contradictory propositions can never be true in the same respect…the very saying is false, that the same thing can both be and not be at the same time’.
    In turn, we may contest Aristotle. A river can be good for you in that it provides sustenance. It can also be bad for you, when it breaks its banks in a torrent of flood and you are swept away. The river is birth and the river is death, yet it remains the ‘river’.

    Reason and perception

    The ethos of learning by doing is one to value, but we are limited by our senses and by
    perceptions, as Axanimander found when he perceived the world as a flat topped drum. Eleatic philosopher, Parmenides, argued the opposite, in that our every day perceptions of the world are completely wrong and all is, in fact, One (God). Nieztche says God is dead, the starting point for recognising that a true life is one firmly rooted in reality rather than theory, and that it is only in this real world where we can progress: An existentialist development influenced by Sartre.
    There is indeed, a pragmatism in spending our lives in search of wisdom, but Heraclitus, in the unity of opposites, demonstrated that both perception and reason were connected and necessary for enlightenment. Patterns are undergoing change all the time, like a moving kaleidoscope, and so is philosophy itself. Does philosophy still ‘yield the enrichment and increase of power’ that we have come to expect from scientific theories? Dewey asks of philosophy whether clarity and opaqueness are in tension. I think so.
    As a philosopher, a lover of wisdom, Heraclitus enables us to imagine that we too are able to gather wisdom, independently of godly guidance or dogma resulting from ignorance of the Logos. We are invited to live our lives as seekers, because searching oneself for truths is to be ‘awake.’ Nietzche, like Heraclitus, viewed wisdom as the most precious moral good. Good and evil are a unity of opposites, with good being revelation of the Logos and evil rooted in the ignorance of it. Within ourselves, there is the tension between Mind and Body, a circular flow between which exists and cannot be separated.
    A complete philosophy cannot be assumed from Heraclitus’ fragments, yet we have enough to imagine it. If he did leave his book in the Temple of Artemis, then it was an offering only to the gods with content enduring but pages and ink subject to Earthly decay. Heraclitus may well recognise this as just if he were alive today.
    On justice, the Logos should nourish our written laws, somewhere on the tension line between theocracy and Platonic Philosopher King, but Heraclitus chose to abandon the chaotic corruption he was privy to witness in the City of Ephesus, to think ‘cosmically’ whilst being an individual. He made a decision to isolate himself in rural existence outside the City walls, which after all, may not have been an act of misanthropy but an act of necessity in order to think clearly. One may also see this as courageous. His private understanding was not that of a man dreaming of the mundane, but that of a man awakening to the spiritual evolution of human nature.
    Emerson refers to the ‘Universal mind’, the consciousness that is ever expanding. In this sense, Heraclitus’ preference for an ‘ethos’ of self-discovery and enlightenment of all things fits well. Better still, there is now a collective drive to accumulate this individual knowledge. The cosmos still consists of unapparent physical and ecological connections and we may look no further than the mysteries of rivers as living systems. As Geldard implies, Heraclitus ‘served as as the bow releasing the arrow of exploration into the vibrant air’.