The Oasis

Hurricane Katrina: The Winds of Change

I, like many other people in the U.S. and around the world, are following tonight the unfolding story of the massive storm, Hurricane Katrina, as she reels toward the old and venerable city of New Orleans.

Here just south of Atlanta, we are apparently out of Katrina's direct path, but are still subject to wind and heavy rain in the days ahead. The potential for the destruction of life and property along the Gulf Coast is staggering.

A couple of years ago, I wrote about hurricanes in an essay titled the Winds of Change. As we think about the good people of New Orleans and all those who make their homes along the Gulf, we pray that the winds of change do not blow too harshly into their lives. I am reprinting the essay here below.

For all of our customers, colleagues and friends who are part of The Oasis community, and who may be in the path of Hurricane Katrina or have loved ones in the affected areas, we would like you to know that we are keeping you in our thoughts and prayers as you prepare for this storm.

Winds of Change

Now that summer has crossed the official finish line, most people are getting back into the familiar routines of the fall season. Drifting red and yellow leaves, the beginning of school, piles of orange pumpkins on roadside stands, that certain nip in the air, all of these comforting things make fall a favorite time of year for many.

But with fall, at least in the eastern United States, comes what is known as Hurricane Season. Officially, Hurricane Season begins on June first, but the majority of the largest and most destructive storms usually strike in the fall. Of course, this year, many areas in the east are still struggling to recover from the effects of Hurricane Isabel. A few days later, Hurricane Juan slammed into Nova Scotia, leaving her destructive calling cards scattered about for all to see.

During Hurricane Season, even in areas like Atlanta, that are unlikely to see any devastating damage, the fascination with these storms is strong. People here keep an ear open for news reports of tropical disturbances forming in the Atlantic basin and if a hurricane does develop, many folks follow the storm’s progress via the Weather Channel, the internet or at least by watching the evening news.

Why are we so enthralled with hurricanes?

The obvious answer is that we are concerned with damage to property and the potential for the loss of human life. But I think this fascination

with powerful and potentially destructive storms goes far beyond matters of simple practicality and concern for safety.

With cyclonic winds generated by the most deadly storms reaching from 100 to 200 miles an hour and a diameter of up to 600 miles, the awesome power of a hurricane, once set in motion, cannot be stopped, except by land and cooler water.

Today, most of us live out our lives in the protected and comfortable world of “indoors,” rarely venturing outside except to retrieve the morning paper or to mow the lawn. We keep our interior climate carefully controlled, so as not to experience inconvenient extremes of hot or cold, and many of us do not even have to leave our houses to get into our cars!

But as civilized as we may think we are, we are still very much the product of an ancient environment, and large weather disturbances, such as hurricanes, arouse something distinctly primordial in our bodies and in our minds.

Even with the threat of damage and loss of life, there is a subdued but certain joie de vivre at the approach of a killer storm, even among some of the residents who live directly in the hurricane’s path. It’s as if the sheer power, the inevitability, the total uncontrollability of this force of nature gives us permission to feel a little reckless.

But there is an eye at the center of even the most violent storms, a roughly circular area of calm that may extend fifty miles or more. There is little, if any, rain in the eye and at the center, the winds are strangely

calm. If you could stand in the eye and look up, you might well see blue sky, or if at night, stars. Surprisingly, the strongest winds circulate, not at the outer fringes of the storm, but directly around the eye.

Sometimes, the circumstances of our lives can leave us feeling like we are being blown and tossed about like leaves on a rising wind and the category five storms that are in everyone’s extended forecast may cause many people to lead their lives with a sense of dread and foreboding at what might eventually come ashore.

But when we remember that the winds of change rage most fiercely just outside the eye, we have only to take a small step into the very center of the storm to find a sense of calm.

Copyright Ellen Britt, 2005. All Rights Reserved.

Nightnoise: Song of the South

The sounds of nature are frequently blocked out by honking horns, blaring machinery or all too often, our busyness, which prevents us from walking outside on a summer evening and just listening to the sounds of the Earth.

Here is a small sample of nightnoise from the South on a mid-August night.

Enjoy! Just click on the link below to listen:

Download nite.mp3

My Bioregion: The Sounds of Summer

Since the email version of news from The Oasis goes out every two weeks, I thought I would start here...in late August in the Southeastern United States, just documenting what's going on in this place and in this season.

Then, in two weeks, when news from The Oasis goes out again, I'll post again on the same topic and you can follow how things change as the seasons progress.

I hope this will encourage each of you to look at your own bio-region, your own local environment, and just gently help you to start paying attention to the changes that happen...from late Summer...to Fall...to Winter...to Spring...and back around to Summer all over again.

What can you notice? Well...anything you like, but I would suggest the weather, outdoor sounds, what wild plants and animals catch your eye. How does your mood and energy shift as the seasons change? And I invite you to come back here, to this post, and contribute your own bioregional observations of this late summer season (or winter, if you happen to live in another part of the world).

Here just south of Atlanta on this hot August afternoon, it's almost too hot to go outside. The heat and humidity make it hard to breathe as I cross from my air-conditioned threshold into the world of fresh cut grass and crawling ants in my backyard.

Along the lower fence, the goldenrods are still sending their tall leafy stalks toward the sky, as they have all summer, saving the promise of their fragrant golden blooms till a little later in the month.

As the afternoon grows longer, the sultry Southern air reverberates with the high, pulsating calls of the cicadas, or locusts. That sound brings back the warm summer evenings of childhood, as the adults sat talking on the porch drinking sweet iced tea and we children laughed and chased each other in looping circles till darkness fell.

An orb spider, her delicate web vibrating as she delicately picks her way across the center, casts an intricate shadow along the side of the house. Our resident fence lizard, given Pickett as his moniker, soaks up the last rays of sunshine on the sidewalk along the side of the house. A few butterflies, magnificent Eastern Tiger Swallowtails, drift lazily by, taken here and there by the slightest shift in the warm air.

Heat. Humidity. Sound. The August sun sinks toward the horizon. Supper's ready and I go inside.

Mr. Donlan's Big Idea: The Re-Wilding of the American Plains

Josh Donlan, a Ph.D. student in the department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology at Cornell University, is making quite a name for himself (as well as a big media splash!) with the publication of an article in the current issue of Nature.

Mr. Donlan, along with a group of his academic colleagues, is proposing a radical new program in which wild African animals, such as elephants, cheetahs and lions, would be introduced into large tracts of private land in the American plains.

His reasoning?

No, Mr. Donlan is not trying to create another drive-through wild animal park, but is actually attempting to address the loss of large native predators that became extinct long ago.

There are other reasons as well. Rewilding could help to save these African animals from extinction and the presence of these animals could restore biological "mega-functions" to this continent, that were lost long ago. Plus, some say this plan would bring tourists flocking to the U.S. national parks, whose visitor numbers have been declining since 1987.

The cons? There are plenty.

Angry ranchers, potential introduction of disease, unanticipated effects on native animal and plant populations, and danger to humans, to name a few.

Plus, some question the hubris of American scientists who wish to "re-create" the African continent in America. Why not give aid to the African conservationists who are trying to save the animals in their natural habitat?

Still, even if rewilding never happens...the sheer aduacity of the idea is stunning, and it's gotten a lot of folks thinking in ways they never expected.

And that's all to the good.

Blogging about Lessons from Water

Since our Flash movie, Lessons from Water, was released, we have gotten email messages from all over the world telling us how beautiful and relaxing the presentation is.

We thought it would be nice to have a place where those comments could be read by everyone. So here's the place to leave them. Just go to the comments link immediately below this post, click it and then type in your entry. (You don't have to sign in or create a typekey to leave a comment.)

An Eye in the Sky

I don't know about you, but I breathed a sigh of relief this week when the space shuttle Discovery safely touched down. That is, until I read about the view that Commander Eileen Collins and her crew had from the shuttle's windows.

We are all so used to reading about the marvelous views of Earth that the astronauts are privileged to see. Astronaut Laurel Clark, while aboard the ill-fated space shuttle Columbia, wrote of her awesome view of the Earth below, "...lightning spreading over the Pacific, rivers breaking through tall mountain passes...a crescent moon setting over the limb of our blue planet."

And remember Edgar Mitchell, an Apollo 14 astronaut and sixth man to walk on the moon? He had a life transforming experience as a result of his view from space. From the moon, Ed Mitchell gazed at the Earth, hanging like a jewel among the stars. This experience changed his life and he left his career as an astronaut and naval officer to found the Institute of Noetic Sciences.

Well, this time around, Commander Collins did not wax poetic over the view from the Discovery. Instead, she reported widespread environmental destruction, including vast areas of erosion and deforestation. She also brought attention to the Earth's fragile atmosphere, which is so thin that "...it looks like an eggshell on an egg...we know that we don't have much air, we need to protect what we have."

Until now, we humans have depended on our local knowledge. Our view from our homes or from the windows of our cars as we travel about. We read about global warming but it never quite hits home. Until now.

The Discovery astronauts are our eyes in the sky. The scale of environmental damage must certainly be huge for them to see evidence of it so clearly.

We can't be complacent any longer. As Hannah Moore so eloquently wrote, "...one drop of water helps to swell the ocean; a spark of fire helps to give light to the world. None are too small, too feeble, too poor to be of service. Think of this and act."