26 Apr One Piece of the Puzzle

Dear Westwood Community,

Recently, while getting lunch with one of my dear Westwoodian friends, he asked what I thought about how to hear God over all the noise- of our lives, our screens, this ever-louder city we all share. And truthfully, I think hearing God among the noise is a little like Earth Day in Los Angeles. I have spent my Earth Days in many different places, but never before have I found myself in a city anywhere near as big as this one.

Early white conservationists constructed the idea of an untouched, humanless wilderness as the ideal escape from an increasingly industrialized world. In truth, the “untouched” land they spoke of had been home to communities of indigenous people for thousands of years before their arrival. Colonization introduced the false dichotomy between civilization and nature, the idea of wilderness as something away from the places we do our living.

A while ago, Pastor Molly referred me to The Friends of the LA River, and told me the organization felt very Christlike to her. After all, she observed, everyone wants to be a friend of Yosemite, or Joshua Tree, or any of the other spaces widely deemed worthy of our effort and preservation. But befriending the Los Angeles River feels more like reaching out to someone who doesn’t enjoy the same abundance of support and community.

Ever since reading William Cronon’s “The Trouble with Wilderness,” along with much of Mary Oliver’s body of work, I’ve worked to appreciate the way growth and nature are persistent and present everywhere, not only in the places we’ve constructed to center it. I remind myself that every place on Earth is a place worthy of noticing and holding as sacred. It is easy to think of Los Angeles as a place away from nature, save for the rare park or trash-filled beach. It is easy to overlook the so-called weeds growing on the edges of our sprawling parking lots, the trees and vines on the sides of roads and buildings. It is easy to forget that this land is also a living, breathing part of our planet.

Last week, a member of my family asked me about the balance between humility and pride- of loving herself and acknowledging her own accomplishments without bragging or abandoning humbleness. I returned to a Robin Wall Kimmerer quote from her masterpiece “Braiding Sweetgrass”: “The most important thing each of us can know is our unique gift and how to use it in the world… In order for the whole to flourish, each of us has to be strong in who we are and carry our gifts with conviction, so they can be shared with others.” In the same way that both the Los Angeles River and Yosemite have a place in California’s ecosystems and deserve stewardship, each of us has something to offer, a role to play in the larger communities in which we find ourselves.

I see myself and the people I love constantly comparing themselves to everyone around them, navigating feelings of inadequacy peppered with brief spikes of superiority, as though our own success must come from being somehow “better” than any of our peers, as though any one else’s success is somehow an indication of our own shortcoming. When these thoughts get too loud for me, I try to ground myself in the wisdom of “Braiding Sweetgrass,” that I am a part of something much bigger than myself, a community that extends out in all directions. Too big a dose of self doubt or self assurance lead to the same thing- an inability for me to offer my gifts to the communities I am a part of while leaning on the strength and support they have to share with me.

These things feel connected in my mind: the false hierarchies of places and the care they deserve, of people and the gifts they have to offer, of all that lives and grows. After all, God’s love, Jesus’ ever-open hands, the abundant presence and grace of the Holy Spirit, these are not reserved for the people and places most easily and widely acknowledged as beautiful and worthy. I hear God best when I remember that I and everyone I love are just one part of it all, no more or less valuable than any other. When I remember that all of our gifts bring love and beauty to our communities. When I remember that the Los Angeles River is just as worthy of love and care as the valleys of Yosemite. When I hold myself as a contributing, gifted, beautiful piece of this vast puzzle, just as worthy as any other of my place on this beautiful planet.

Happy Earth Day, keep the Faith,

Everest