A Bridge, 4 Women, & A Pivotal Moment
Here’s how I'm using my hand, head, and heart this month to reconnect to myself and the ways of thinking, moving, and being that come from deep and intimate connections to the web of life.
Exhale. In my last post, I mentioned what a challenge March was for me. Well, the end of March got harder than I ever expected. On March 26th the Key Bridge dissolved into the Patapsco River. Many have likely heard this story from the national news so a short recap will suffice.
A giant container ship struck the Key Bridge in Baltimore at about 1:30 a.m. Traffic had been stopped prior to the collision but there were eight construction workers filling potholes on the Bridge - 2 were rescued from the water immediately, 3 were found later, and three are still missing. Go here if you need more information.
Two generations of my family worked on the teams that built the bridges and tunnels in this area. My grandfather was the son of an immigrant and was very proud of his work on these bridges and tunnels. I like to think that he felt like he was making a contribution to the city and the people of Baltimore. I know it was dangerous for him and my uncles. No one ever talked about that aspect of the job, just the results of their work.
I am very disconnected from that life and my kids are even more so. What I am not disconnected from is this feeling of overwhelming loss, like a tidal wave, that has sat heavily on me since the moment I heard the news. Driving by the ship with part of the bridge sitting on top of it, I had to catch my breath. I gasped. My heart hurt. Tears welled in my eyes. All I could think of was the men, their families, the deep bone ache.
Brothers. Fathers. Cousins. Husbands. No one expected that when they went to work that night, they would never come back. Or, would come back changed. The six - taken from their families way too soon. My heart breaks for each of them. I will remember them, hold them in love, and do whatever part I can to honor their work and their ultimate sacrifice.
To learn more of their stories and how to support the families, visit Baltimore Bridge Collapse Catastrophe.
The Key Bridge Holds a Mystical Space in My Memory
Construction of the Key Bridge started in 1972 and was completed in March 1977. The bridge spans 1.6 miles over the Patapsco River, from Sollers Point to Hawkins Point.
Built during my lifetime, this bridge was designed to ease the traffic through the Baltimore Harbor Tunnel. I remember the long delays and congestion that occurred in the tunnel. Every afternoon the radio would give the traffic report and there were always back ups in the tunnel. That’s probably why, to this day, I am so nervous going through the tunnel. I’m always concerned there will be a back up and I will be stuck sitting in the tunnel for an extremely long period.
The Bridge completed the circle around the city - the Beltway. After the Bridge opened, as I was growing up, our family rarely used it . As the crow flies the shortest distance from my house to the south is through the heart of the City, and this was easier to do than going through the toll booths and dealing with so many travelers using the tunnel and the Bridge.
Yet, this Bridge holds a mystical space in my memory. I remember visiting my father’s office in high school and clearly seeing the bridge in the distance. Later, I could see it clearly from his hospital room.
I remember being on boats under and around the bridge, and its engineering majesty as it loomed over everything. I remember being on Fort Carroll and thinking about what it must have been like in that spot before the bridge, how the view of Fort McHenry and the City of Baltimore would have been different.
Every time I return home on a flight, even from so high up, I find the bridge during the descent, like a beacon.
And, I remember my wedding reception. Looking out those big windows on the 14th floor of a building on the harbor and seeing snow fall around the Bridge.
This Bridge has always reminded me of my connection to the Chesapeake Bay. Even when the concrete world weighs me down, this Bridge reminds me that my gateway is just on the other side of it. The Chesapeake and all I feel about it are simply that close. Just a quick view of the Bridge and a thought of the Chesapeake has been known to turn my mood almost instantly.
A few years ago. I made a conscious decision to use the Bridge more and more. If I am traveling south, it is 33 miles if I go east on the Beltway and cross the Bridge. It’s also 33 miles if I go west on the Beltway. The difference: The west is landlocked. There’s traffic, buildings, highway trees. There’s a fastness on the west side of the Beltway that speaks to the hurry of life inside the Beltway.
I am very fortunate to be able to make this choice. I have three different ways to go depending on my criteria — the fastest, the most convenient, the one with the least traffic, the most connected, the most interesting, whatever I choose to base my choice upon. Not everyone has that choice in this city. I recognize it is a combination of location and privilege that allow for that for me.
So, I go East around the Beltway. Yes, there are the remnants of the industrial urban landscape and the markers of growing suburbia. There is also a connection to what was before and possibility for the future. There is also the Patapsco River and Bear Creek which I go over. I see the city to one side and Fort Carroll and the Chesapeake Bay to the other side. The marshes of Back River are visible as I drive up the highway. It is not pristine. The land has scars of use and misuse but there is still a persistent wildness that is endeavoring to survive. There is something about the water, the marsh, the ospreys, the great blue herons, even the herring gulls that make traveling east more than just traffic.
The feeling of coming home is different when I travel the eastern route. The more I travel over this Bridge the more I feel my connection to the water, and the Chesapeake in particular, being fed. I feel myself exhale a bit differently. Even just that glimpse of water and marsh does something to relax and connect me. Mostly, I feel hope.
It is a hope that is fueled by love. Love of the Earth, love of the more than human beings, and love of each other. Hope that we will figure out how to live on this Earth in a way that all of the more than human beings may thrive. Hope that we will figure out how to live on this Earth together, in a manner that honors all of our human differences and similarities. Hope that calls to support all - humans and more than humans. A hope fueled by love and actualized by belief.
How did I come to be this way? How did I come to need connection to water and marsh? How did I come to see the connection inherent in this web of life on this amazing planet? How did I come to love this planet so much and all of life on it?
The Four Women Who Inspired Me
As Earth Day approaches I find myself reflecting on these questions, and on the spaces and the people that have influenced me. Someone once asked me who the women are that inspire me. I could only think of one at the time. Scratching deeper, I have found more.
#1 Dr. Jane Goodall. I remember watching the 1965 documentary Miss Goodall and the Wild Chimpanzees when I was elementary school aged. I was riveted. The film took the viewer through the 1960 arrival of Jane Goodall at Gombe, Tanzania to study the local chimpanzees. She was 26 years old when she arrived, with no specialized training or degree, only a charge from Dr. Louis Leaky (a palaeoanthropologist and archaeologist studying human origins in Africa) to learn more about the chimpanzees in hopes that it would inform his study of early humans. Jane Goodall came without preconceived ideas of what she would find but brought with her a love of animals, a curious mind, and a persistent spirit.
26 years old Jane Goodall made me believe. She made me believe that there was more than one way to be in the world. She didn’t like dolls, I didn’t like dolls. She loved animals, I loved animals. She spent her time working outside studying things that excited her, I loved being outside. Here, she was venturing out in 1960 on her own, to study animals in the place where the animals live. It seemed magical to me. She made me believe that it was possible for a girl like me to do something she loves and to do it in an unexpected way. Here she was doing the hard things in life out of choice and changing what we knew about being human and about those we share the planet with.
She also sparked an idea in me that “animals” are more similar to us then we may believe. This tidbit was one that reoccured throughout my youth and resulted in a deep appreciation and understanding for the more than human beings who share this planet with us. The feeling she ignited in me through that documentary fostered a deeper empathy and understanding of this amazing planet that I have carried with me.
Because of Jane, I learned that each one of us determines our own path and future. And, if lucky enough, you get to do something you love while advocating for those whose voices aren’t as easily heard by all humans. Dr. Jane Goodall’s 90th birthday was April 3rd. Happy Birthday to Dr. Goodall!
#2 Ms. Morton, my 4th grade teacher
In elementary school I spent my time running around the woods, playing kick the can across multiple yards, catching fire flies at night, traversing streams, riding my bike, taking care of lost dogs. Inside the schoolhouse was not the place where I thrived. I found the schoolhouse to be stifling.
Ms. Morton made a concerted effort to ensure that we went outside and did scientific investigations. I don’t remember any teacher before her or after her that did that for us. She understood that the schoolhouse walls needed to be flexible, that learning needed to extend beyond the walls and concrete. She understood that in nature, our imaginations were enhanced, our questions probed deeper understanding, and our love of learning was genuine. Ms. Norton was responsible for: quadrant plot studies we conducted in the woods next to the school; our collection of plants from the schoolyard and woods we used to create terrariums; our design, planting, and care of a garden behind the school.
Ms. Morton opened a window into how school could be more like our outside experiences. She showed me that there were different ways to interact with the Earth and that the Earth had lots to teach me, if I took the time to look closely.
#3 Dr. Nell Porter. Okay, I know Dr. Nell Porter is a fictional character from the 1981 comedy Continental Divide starring John Belushi and Blair Brown. I acknowledge that the movie was corny and that if watched now there are some moments that do not age well. Yet, Blair Brown as Dr. Nell Porter left an imprint on my imagination.
Dr. Nell Porter was researching American Bald Eagles in Wyoming. She lived alone in the Rocky Mountains in a wonderful log cabin. She was content in her life, home, and research, knowing that she lived her life how she wanted. She was self-sufficient. Anything that needed to be done, she could do. She was persistent in her research and her advocacy for the American Bald Eagles. Above all, she understood the beauty and majesty of the place where she lived and loved it deeply. One of my favorite scenes is when she takes John Belushi to church - a mountaintop with a view of continuous mountaintops and sky.
Here was another woman, I saw forging her own path, despite expectations. A woman advocating for the more than humans. And, spoiler alert, a woman who figures out how to have it all, including a relationship with the man she loves who lives in a city in a distant state.
While Dr. Nell Porter is a fictional character, she came from a real person’s mind. If someone (in this case Lawrence Kasdan) could write her into existence then, my thoughts followed, it was possible.
These school age memories remained buried until I was in college and a professor inadvertently awakened those that had been dulled by the dark period (age 4 through 5th grade, a time of no dreams, few memories, little creativity and imagination; see Memories and Dreams). The snippets that were awakened were mostly those that involved the natural world and the more than human persons that live here with us. What this professor set in motion was my Earth re-awakening.
The professor told me that an outdoor school had asked for the names of any education students he had that he thought would be a good fit to teach in their school. He said to them that there was one —me. I met the director, we talked, I was offered the job, and I didn’t hesitate.
And, yes, the director was a woman, Betsy. She is #4. As director of this outdoor school Betsy reinforced to 21 year old me that it was possible to live the kind of life I felt drawn to.
Betsy lived with her husband in a house they built, in a forest, near a marsh. She taught outdoor and environmental education to school age children and was the director of the school. She had what she needed and that was enough. I can still see her toddler sucking on and chewing an enormous carrot as he explored the amazing campus - the beach, grassland, marsh, and forest. I remember thinking, “I want that in my life.”
My dear friend is a young adult fiction writer and a teacher. She talks with young writers in her classes about pivotal moments - the moment when everything changes. Taking that job at that outdoor school was one of those pivotal moments for me.
Teaching at this outdoor school was the catalyst for working outside as an educator for the next five years. Immersive programs on the Chesapeake Bay. Day programs, overnight programs, and extended overnight programs. Living in tents or on boats or houses on islands, sleeping in sleeping bags, rising with the sun, and canoeing or sailing under the stars. Exploring water, marshes, islands, meadows, and forests. In the summer the bugs were intense. From late fall until early spring it was cold, icy, and snowy. And I loved all of it.
I loved helping students see the beauty and magic in the world around us. I loved helping them see that kindness and compassion should extend to all of us - human, more than human, Mother Earth. And, I loved helping them see that every person matters and that every individual can make changes to their corner of the world that will make a difference for all.
I learned that being outside feeds my soul. I feel better when connected to the outside world. I enjoy feeling the elements around me. I enjoy experiencing the natural rhythms of the local environment. I was able to untether myself and unleash my wild. I don't mean wild as in untamed, unruly, unrestrained. I mean the wild that comes from being in and of the natural world. The ways of thinking, moving, and being that come from being deeply and intimately connected to the web of life on this planet.
There’s also an inner resiliency, persistence, and acceptance that comes from being a part of something bigger than ourselves when we are outside. I learned that is at the crux of who I am.
All of the seeds that had been planted as a small child (see: An Invitation from the Wild), all of the women that inspired me, and the college professor who could see me in a way I did not even see myself yet, all came together at that outdoor school. That moment changed everything. My journey in the world changed. My way of looking at myself, the water, and the marsh was forever changed. All around me I could see connections amongst the web of life on this amazing planet. Most importantly, my love for this planet and all of life on it would ensure that even if I lost my wildness for a number of years, (see: An Invitation from the Wild), I would find my way back to it, and hopefully bring some others along with me.
Here’s how I am using my hand, head, and heart this month.
Here’s how I'm using my hand, head, and heart this month to reconnect to myself, my journey on this amazing planet, and the ways of thinking, moving, and being that come from deep and intimate connections to the web of life, especially during this emerging season of growth and abundance.
Hand - Earth Day.
Earth Day celebrates the beginning of the modern environmental movement in 1970. 1970 saw:
creation of the EPA,
passage of the National Environmental Education Act,
passage of the Occupational Safety and Health Act,
passage of the Clean Air Act,
two years later, passage of the Clean Water Act,
one year later passage of the Endangered Species Act,
and then the Federal Insecticide, Fungicide, and Rodenticide Act.
Today more than a billion people around the world celebrate Earth Day, April 22nd, as a day of action.
There are two portions to our Earth Day activities this year. First, we will read the old Norse stories from the Poetic Edda. Not only are the old Norse stories enjoyable they are filled with connections to the creation of the world, the destruction of the world, and ways to interact with the world. It’s a starting place for an Earth Day discussion before embarking on service.
Then, service activities on behalf of the Earth and all of the more than human inhabitants. Our backyard is a National Wildlife Federation Certified Wildlife Habitat and National Aquarium Certifiably Wild garden. We are committed to sustainable practices that maintain our garden in ways to ensure the four basic habitat elements needed for wildlife are available: food, water, cover, places to raise young.
We have one section of the garden that is slightly lower in elevation than the rest and so all of the water collects there. It hasn’t always been that way. A neighbor made some decisions that impacted our garden so I’ve been trying to figure out how to approach this new reality in our garden.
Last spring I decided that I would embrace this area and return native plants to it in the manner it desired. No earth moving. We are planting with the contours and leaving as much of the grass base as possible undisturbed when we plant so we can see if it creates a community of wild plants amongst the newly planted native species.
The first plants went in last spring. On this Earth Day, we will commence this spring’s work on this section of the garden. Getting my hands in the dirt is the best way I can think of connecting with Mother Earth on Earth Day. We will be focusing on plantings and habitat improvement for our friends — the bunnies, squirrels, birds, insects — to ensure that they can thrive when passing through our garden.
Right now, the biggest obstacle is keeping our 1.5 year old Cane Corso out of the water and from biting off the branches on the young trees and plants but I remain hopeful.
Head - Books.
I just finished reading, Wild Girls: How the Outdoors Shaped the Women Who Challenged a Nation by Tiya Miles.
“This beautiful, meditative work of history puts girls of all races—and the landscapes they loved—at center stage and reveals the impact of the outdoors on women’s independence, resourcefulness, and vision. For these trailblazing women of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, navigating the woods, following the stars, playing sports, and taking to the streets in peaceful protest were not only joyful pursuits, but also techniques to resist assimilation, racism, and sexism. Lyrically written and full of archival discoveries, Wild Girls evokes landscapes as richly as the girls who roamed in them—and argues for equal access to outdoor spaces for young women of every race and class today.”
What I deeply appreciated about this book was all the historical women - familiar and new to me - and the common threads that linked their vast range of experiences.
Harriet Tubman Harriet Jacobs Laura Haviland Louisa May Alcott Pochahontas Sacagawea Zitkála-Šá (Gertrude Bonnin) Mamie Fields Anna Julia Cooper Genevieve Healy Josephine Langley Indigenous women’s basketball team from Fort Shaw, Montana Grace Lee Boggs Dolores Huerta Octavia Butler
I found myself reflecting upon my experiences as a kid and teen in nature, in school, on athletic teams as I read how nature intertwined in their lives. Each of these women is an inspiration and a reminder of the need for wild spaces to build inner resiliency and acceptance for all.
I will spend the remainder of the month reading more about some of these remarkable women and their experiences. I am particularly fascinated by the basketball team and the role basketball played in the ability of the players to explore life beyond the rigid walls of their boarding school.
Heart - Getting Outside.
I'm getting outside. Just the act of being out in the wild is my heart practice this month. I’ll be exploring new trails and scouting new places to swim off-shore this summer. May be even some day trips to the ocean.
First though, I’ll be getting outside for today’s (April 8th) total solar eclipse. *Remember, if you are curious about the eclipse and head outside, it is important to wear special solar filtered sunglasses when witnessing a solar eclipse. It is not safe to look directly at the Sun without specialized eye protection for solar viewing; severe eye injury may result.*
The total solar eclipse will occur across North America, passing over Mexico, the United States, and Canada. My home is not in the path of totality. It is estimated that we will experience 89% darkness. It will begin here at 2:05pm, reaching the full magnitude at 3:21pm, concluding at 4:33pm. For more information on the total solar eclipse, visit NASA: 2024 Total Solar Eclipse
Eclipses are a great time to focus on transformation, see what’s showing up and what feels important right now, and what can be relinquished. I think of it this way: during the total solar eclipse there is period of darkness and then the reemergence of light; therefore, there is introspection and release, followed by new insight.
After I come back inside I will meditate on what can be released and then take a ritual bath.
Here's my process:
A white candle will be set on the windowsill near my bath. White represents cleansing. I will write an intention as to what I am releasing on a small piece of paper and fold it three times. I will light my candle and set fire to the piece of paper. The candle will then burn while I take a hot bath using a homemade bath salt blend. After the candle burns out I will bury the residue by the Juniper tree in my garden. Then I will write in my journal and see what new insight emerges.
This month my hand, head, and heart practices provide an opportunity to reconnect to myself, my journey on this amazing planet, and the ways of thinking, moving, and being that come from deep and intimate connections to the web of life. This is especially important as we move into this season of growth and abundance that will be with us in full force once May 1st (May Day, Bealtaine) arrives.
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So much love to you Karen. I can't imagine how challenging it was to see the bridge your family helped build on the news 🙏💚