Beavers are Fluminists. By Ginny Battson. First published by Zoomorphic October 9th 2017.
Spring 2005, and I peer through my living room window to check the weather. It’s looking good, the sun is out. My husband has left for a day’s work at UMaine Orono, so I lower my baby girl into her papoose and strap her in. We are through the fly screen door and out onto the road.
The residential lots of leafy Gilbert Street are studded with blue and red flags, remnants of last winter’s political war that saw Republican oilmen G.W. Bush and Dick Cheney take charge of the Whitehouse for a second term. … Read more
Lichens, by me.
As a Fluminist, I continue to challenge human chauvinism underpinning the Anthropocene; reductionism and homogeneity continue to catalyze schisms and death rather than unity and life.
I call for a purposeful expansion of the human moral imagination and creativity to help close the transilience gap, and my own work is a particular inquiry on love and language as agents of, and for, nurturing education and change inseparable from that richer imagination.
The word creative stems from proto-indo-european ker meaning to arise, to grow. I contend it must be part of the Great Turning (Macy), more the decay of economic growth and the rise of ecological growth. … Read more
The Emergent Urgent, Photo by me.
I think it’s time we looked at time scales in terms of ‘doing’. The reality is the need for immediate change. Today. That everyone is not participating today is complex, but there’s real truth in urgency.
The use of the word ’emergency’ has been severely compromised. I have read on Twitter a defense of using the phrase ‘long emergency.’ A long emergency is about as useful as a flying brick, a nonviable dialectic – AN OXYMORON. People need to understand the urgency, in mitigation and adaptation.
Western techno-industrial values, competition, fear, consequential life-styles and the general global devaluation of life for markets, that lead to habitat loss, emissions, poverty, racism, failing democracy, dictatorship, xenophobia, North-South divides, nationalism ~ please feel free to add more ~ are failing all living beings. … Read more
On Birdetal being During Lockdown
Feather by me
From my rooftop terrace on a hill in the city of Cardiff, in a vague state of suspended covi-disbelief you’ll recognize, I face due South into the eye of the midday sun. A man-jumble of roof, balustrade and wall contains what would otherwise be a 180 degree arc-view from East to West. The sky is none-the-less enormous, and I love it. Each day, I observe the clouds as if they are hastily evolving species, manifesting the effects of water and sky-physics, and stealing creature-ly shapes, every once in a while, stored deep in my imagination
Everything seems in tension, between closed and open, the constraints of the streets, confinement and grief within homes, yet pinned down by the freedoms of the sky. … Read more
Toda la vida es siempre fluida, simbiótica e interconectada. En la comprensión, protegemos y proliferamos los procesos de florecimiento de la vida.
El fluminismo es una forma poderosa de amor, y lo ofrezco en resistencia a la mercantilización destructiva.
Este PDF es una contribución fluminista / fluminescente de todos los involucrados en la traducción de mi ecofilosofía en forma de libro. ¡Y es gratis descargar aquí!
All life is ever-flowing, symbiotic and interconnected. In understanding, we protect and proliferate life-flourishing processes.
Fluminism is a powerful form of love, and I offer this in resistance to destructive commodification.
This PDF is a fluministic/fluminescent contribution from all of us involved in the translation of my ecophilosophy into book form. … Read more
Lemn Sissay speaks at the Cambridge Union. Photo by me.
At the top of a wide staircase, under the light of a golden chandelier, I met an elderly man with depth to his eyes, leaning on a stick. We smiled, and began to speak of love and nature ~ that sponteneity, with a stranger. It’s rare. And memorable.
A few moments before, we shared an audience downstairs in the Cambridge Union; the talk by Lemn Sissay at the Cambridge Literature Festival. I have written before about his book, My Name is Why. Now, we were at the back of a long booksigning queue. … Read more
Art by NATASHA ZETA, Cracked Perspective (butterfly piece). Please click on the image for more information about this artist and her work.
Seven years, they say, of bad luck. This UK Election was a mirror, a moment for deep change. And today, it feels like the mirror cracked.
This is precious time; this seven years ahead. This will be time for a very structured organisation, meticulous and detailed (the genius being in the detail) investment in time to slow the worst effects of inequity, racism, climate volatility and ecological depauperation. We can prepare now, away from the political bubble of The City and Westminster and the BBC and the billionaire press, amongst ourselves. … Read more
Photo by me.
It happened in a flash. A broad silver flank with a pink tinge lifted clear into river spray, a single twist, and a lunge towards a roaring steep slope of weir. The body jolted and slipped backwards into the white froth from where it had leaped.
He did leap high. I saw him. Atlantic salmon (Salmo salar), and most likely a male with all his freckles.
It’s mid November, late salmon-leap time here in Wales. These are the kings of anadromous fish, symlings of the great Arctic pelagos and the free ocean waves. They return thousands of miles ‘home’ using quantum magnetic sensing and smell-vibrations, navigating to their intimate place of spawning in the shallow streams of inland mountains. … Read more
Joe’s Harkness’s Bird Therapy is a thing of healing.
This is a man that has been to the lowest emotional point; the first few opening lines allow a glimpse of the depths of colourlessness that depression can bring, the point at which the pain comes to zero, and there seems nothing left to value, not even life.
Don’t be deterred; there’s great courage here. Through relatable accounts of his re-connection of a life-love of birds, and new paths found, Joe finds his way back from the brink of nothingness to somewhere good, somewhere of vibrance and of song. And he brings us all along with him. … Read more
Fish scale in otter spraint on a fallen oak leaf between my fingers.
Otter spraint stained the smooth rock with a redness I’d not seen before. A translucent fish scale and tiny bones glowed in the shade beneath wintry stems crouching over the river’s edge. I’d been there a long while before noticing it.
My intent was not to think about treatment. Nor cancer. Nor my complicated life, in general. I just wanted to ‘fly-wheel,’ drift. Have some me-time. I didn’t even want to think.
Chemotherapy makes my skin sensitive. Finding myself alone, I braved it without a hat, the air whispering around my exposed ears. … Read more