Coyote Howl

Coyote, 28, is the kind of man who inspires authors.

Coyote’s worked on farms. I figured he had. How many lawyers are found in tents on the side of the road, thirsty, content, and caught in the rain?

Like a literary creation, he talks of where he’s been and his vision for healthful, wholesome communities heartened and sustained by people who celebrate together their lives, who all contribute to the raising of children, who build a library and share books, conversation, food, music, observations, and wisdom, who identify with nature and embrace a strong community identity.

He set out in Maine, on foot, a tent on his back. He spent some time working the land in Minnesota, and is now walking South. Thornbury Farm was blessed to have him join us for two days before he moved on to continue his traveling romance with our country.

“Coyote,” I confided, “my doubts and fears hold me back from walking across the country,” and he said, his trepidation about going on a long, wandering journey began to dissipate when he left and had confidence that he could keep putting one foot ahead of the other.

“Great minds discuss ideas” Eleanor Roosevelt is purported to have said.

“As well as you can manage to describe, why did you leave in the first place?” I posed.

Coyote closed his eyes to think in the sanctuary of his mind, which offered me little choice but to listen to the sounds of birds and insects surrounding me—and that lack of speech was nearly his explanation in itself.

“I used to feel overwhelmed. I used to read books in my room and feel overwhelmed by the failing of Earth’s life support systems. But rather than be afraid, I want to be present. Present for the unraveling of life on Earth.” He answered.

Howling

This resonated in me like a stone thrown down a deep well. Every day in Conservation Biology I had been scared. Conservation Biology is a crisis science, and the philosophy cries out that ecosystems are so degraded, and biodiversity so threatened, that we must act to save life on Earth before we know how.

“I like how I feel when I am outside and walking”, and Coyote, if I am misquoting you or misunderstanding you, I beg your forgiveness.

And this subtle, simplified thought brings me back to awareness.

I was weeding our young rows of corn in the presence of a great mind and greater heart. Someone who yearns to engage his community and love his community, and also “be there for the unraveling of the Earth’s life support systems.” In the plants, we talked about our upbringings, about religion, politics, and “horizontal hostilities,” the ways we oppress each other within each tier of our culture of socio-economic stratification. When you have people supposedly "above" you telling you what to do, you don't need those who are "on your level" making life difficult, and yet this has been a historical trend. We oppress each other as much as we the victims of oppression from "the top, down". 

I shared with him my frustration about working as a canvasser on an environmental political campaign. The ignorance of those whose doors I knocked on, the fact that I was at their mercy in order to reach my nightly quota of memberships. All to save the stream in their backyard from their runoff so they could keep their lawn "beautiful" and artificial. All the while, Coyote listened, empathized, and offered his insights.

You meet people on a farm. Characters. You meet certain people in a shopping mall and you meet certain people on the road. Who of these people are written into books?

Coyote’s the kind of man who inspires authors. May he bring his depth and lightness to every community he brushes. Sometimes you just need to go.

Coyote and his trademark wool hat.