Polluted

Brent and Paul were college roommates at UW. After about 20 years living and working post-college in Seattle, Brent and his girlfriend Robin cut ties with our city for good and bought 25 acres in eastern Washington in Nine Miles Falls just outside the Spokane valley. We knew that they lived on a sizable piece of land. What we didn't know was just how far away from everything it is. One of their favorite things about the place is that they rarely hear cars now which is the exact opposite of where they had lived on the Seattle/Shoreline border since the early 2000's.

Brent and Robin live with their 7 year old kunekune pig named Oliver and their 3 year old border collie rescue named Django. They spend much of their time protecting their home from the local wildlife and raking up piles and piles of pine cones from the mini forest that surrounds their home. The previous owner lovingly designed and built the house with fun hidden nooks and crannies that are perfect for playing hide and seek with the children of their friends.

As we were touring the home, I could see how much happier they both seemed having lived for a year out of the city. And who wouldn't be? They wake up to beautiful views of mountains and trees every morning and can go for a hike on their own property whenever they want to. They have stellar views of the constellations at night (pun totally intended). I asked Brent during the house tour if this was likely their forever home. He surprised me by saying it wasn't. They hope to retire to the south of France one day. They have spent much time there and look forward to moving when they retire. I joking/not joking said, "That's what I need. I need to get out of the United States for a while." To which he replied, "Well you know it depends on where you go. It's not all bad. We couldn't live in Seattle anymore but we love it here." And I said he was right and we moved on with the tour.

Around 10pm we all went outside for a walk in their woods because there was a possibility that the northern lights would be visible. We didn't see the northern lights but saw the Milky Way, shooting stars, and Jupiter and Saturn bright as day. As we walked, the crickets sang their songs. Robin mentioned that last winter when the snows had come and the crickets were gone there was nothing to be heard at all. Absolute silence. They said it was the craziest thing they had ever (not) heard.

I woke up early the following morning because you know I don't actually sleep. I snuck out onto their back porch to see if I could see any wildlife foraging for their breakfasts. Everything was perfect. The sky was still pinkish gold. Birds were singing. The air was crisp and fragrant. I took advantage of the solitude and beautiful surroundings and did a little yoga on the porch. I kept feeling/thinking about what a pristine moment this was. With every breath I could taste the sweetness of life. There was nothing intruding upon this moment of peace. Nothing but a little dark cloud that hovered over me that I couldn't quite figure out how or why it was there.

As I moved to the porch rail and took it all in the thought of the silent snowy winter night came back to my mind. I imagined a world unpolluted by demands, noise, conflict, TV news, rush, worries, politics, disappointment, etc. Then I thought of Brent's words, "It depends on where you go. It's not all bad." And I couldn't help thinking that "where you go" isn't necessarily only where your body goes but it also matters where you let your mind go - what you let your mind dwell upon and how you let it affect you. Standing on that porch I realized that I was the one who was polluted. I was surrounded by everything beautiful and lovely and I was polluted. I have absorbed into my body so many cares and worries over the state of our country, the state of the environment, the state of our church (big C and little c church), the worries I have over the safety of my kids in a world full of bullies and mass shooters, all of it. I have taken all of these things and more and let them take residence in me. They silently accompany me wherever I go. They are my uninvited entourage and they color my every interaction. I am polluted.

I don't want to be polluted. My instant prayer on that porch was to be released from these pollutants that I may see with clarity these things in their proper perspective. They are not mine to harbor. What good would come of that? In my world context is king and I always seek ways of understanding the whole so that I may better understand the circumstance. But in doing this I fear that I have invited discouragement into my being as so much of what is to be understood about the world - should I allow my thoughts to go there - is heart breaking, is infuriating, is unjust, and is overwhelming.

There must be balance. "It depends on where you go. It's not all bad." As I have mapped out our trip around the United States, I did so with the intent to show a broader perspective of American history that includes its scars and ugliest moments to combat the American triumphalist themes that permeate so much of what is taught to American school children. But I feel as though as I have received a warning. "It is not all bad. Look for the good things." Oh that I would allow myself the see even bigger than I have imagined -- to behold the good and the bad -- and in that seeking discover what I never would have found when my vision was too polluted to see clearly.