{"id":480,"date":"2022-08-08T14:30:00","date_gmt":"2022-08-08T21:30:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/?p=480"},"modified":"2022-08-17T14:47:33","modified_gmt":"2022-08-17T21:47:33","slug":"listen-to-the-flowers","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/listen-to-the-flowers\/","title":{"rendered":"Listen to the Flowers"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<p>The smallest rotation in my position has created a great shift in the view from my sit spot. I was drawn to beautiful purple and blue flowers that sit on a lush hydrangea bush at the side of my house. A bush that does not get nearly the admiration it deserves. Observing and reflecting upon these flowers has filled me with a sense of hope. Hope in the resilience of nature to find ways to adapt and thrive. However, I also see no possibility of hope without a motivational role for fear or, at least, awareness. Noticing the beauty of these flowers without acknowledging their history, their story, does not allow full appreciation of what these colours represent. As stated by Whyte (2017), \u201cit is impossible to conceive of the present and the future as separate and distinct from the past\u201d (p. 225). By no means do the flowers in themselves reveal the full story, rather they serve as a reminder of everything and everyone already impacted by the changing world and the forces responsible.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A little history about my spot. We have lived here only about a year. Yet our house is almost seventy years old. The land upon which it sits is obviously much older. We have heard many stories about the last few years in the life of our house and we see clues about the last few generations of the land surrounding it. Our house was in shambles, the people inside suffered with their own afflictions. They had battles that did not include caring for a home or any life around it. Interestingly, the house deteriorated yet, in many ways, the land&nbsp;<em>thrived.<\/em>&nbsp;The beautiful bushes that lure me toward them have likely not been tended to for many years and despite that, or possibly&nbsp;<em>because<\/em>&nbsp;of it, they have flourished. I have realized, there is much to be learned by studying these flowers.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>At first glance, it\u2019s hard to miss the strikingly beautiful flowers with vibrant shades of purple. On second look, it is surprising to notice the many different colours are occupying the same bush. It is all&nbsp;<em>one<\/em>&nbsp;bush. I thought it was multiple bushes this entire time. It turns out, the colours are a direct reflection of the pH of the soil from which they grow. They are living litmus tests. They can be anywhere from pink or red to dark purple and blue as the soils range from basic to acidic (Schreiber, 2014). The colours are an expression of individual roots accessing variations in soil, leading to flowers of a variety of colours (Schreiber, 2014). These hydrangeas range in colour from light purple and white to an intensely deep purple that is almost blue, implying an increasingly acidic soil. I wonder what colour they were when they were first planted. Twenty, thirty years ago? Maybe longer. How long have they lived in their home? A home that occupies the shadiest spot on the land, spared from hours of intense heat in the direct sunlight in the drier, hotter days of summer. Protected by the wooden house, a modern-day variation of a tree\u2019s canopy, would they have flourished in a spot that had lost its shade? As the neighbours eagerly share the history of the house and its occupants, the history of this bush is scarcely considered. Yet it likely has a profound story to tell, one of adaptation to the increasing temperatures and rainfall acidifying the soil. The changing colours of their pedals like the pages in a history book.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The importance of acknowledging our collective histories is highlighted in the article, \u201cHow to Survive an Apocalypse and Keep Dreaming\u201d by Julian Brave Noisecat (2020). The author illustrates the parallel between the crises humanity now faces, such as pandemics and climate change, and the great losses suffered by Indigenous people. It begins with a description of Indigenous peoples as post-apocalyptic, illustrated by Brave Noisecat (2020) as, \u201cthose who know what it means to lose our world\u201d (p. 1).&nbsp;&nbsp;At the start of the pandemic, the author calls on some Indigenous leaders and shares some of their wisdom. The discussions centre around the denial of basic rights to American tribes. In current and historical times, disproportionate amounts of harm have come to Indigenous tribes through unconscionable laws, omissions (such as failure to initially provide COVID relief followed by delayed release of funds), and failure to protect the environment leading to food insecurity and forced displacement (Brave Noisecat, 2020). The article ends with the reminder that Indigenous peoples have survived much injustice and darkness yet have not only survived but retained their history and worldview. Brave Noisecat (2020) concludes with the powerful statement, \u201cAfter the pandemic but as the climate crisis unfolds, maybe more people will understand what it means to survive and still dream, like us\u201d (p. 4).&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>This article illustrates the importance of knowing our history in the search of finding an inclusive path forward. Examination of our current existential crises must acknowledge the apocalypses already survived by Indigenous peoples and nature itself, both with a unifying root cause in colonialism. Many dystopian portrayals of climate crisis narratives effectively erase people who have already been living through societal and climate devastation (Whyte, 2018). We must avoid the privileged narrative of a climate crisis &#8211; the crisis that is&nbsp;<em>now<\/em>&nbsp;concerning because it threatens us personally. Our extractive relationship with the world around us has caused great injustices to our fellow human and non-human animals and their ecosystems. It is essential to listen to post-apocalyptic survivors who have already experienced the feared dystopia. Loss has occurred at the hands of colonialism, responsible for the destruction of homes, culture, and direct relationships with nature (Whyte, 2017). We must realize our collective proximity to these changes as they have already happened and are continuing \u2014 just maybe not as obviously to many of us as individuals.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>These hydrangeas that I admire do not just exist for my pleasure, they survive in this soil regardless of what I do, but<em>&nbsp;<\/em>they are telling a story that impacts all of us. The changes seen on this bush do not represent a large climate event, but on a very small scale they represent local adaptation in the face of a changing climate. There is&nbsp;<em>hope<\/em>&nbsp;if you realize they are more than pretty flowers. We are surrounded by life and ecosystems untethered to unsustainable desires, able to adapt and survive with a humility unknown to capitalism. A reminder that what we need for ourselves is a moral litmus test. I would argue this hope must be partnered with a certain degree of fear. There&nbsp;<em>should<\/em>&nbsp;be an inherent fear of the changes that are occurring globally and locally. I see fear as an inevitable part of climate communication, even when not purposely elicited. As stated by Wallace-Wells (2017), \u201cI don\u2019t even understand what \u2018too scared\u2019 would mean. The science says climate change threatens nearly every aspect of human life on this planet\u201d (para. 4).&nbsp;&nbsp;The potential and inevitable consequences of the climate crisis is what makes hope necessary; knowledge of this gravity is not possible without some fear. The truth is frightening.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Both fear and constructive hope lie in listening to and learning from the narratives of&nbsp;<em>all<\/em>&nbsp;our histories and, particularly, the narratives of those who have been most impacted already, including humans, wildlife and natural life. In my view, that is how we can find hope for a future where we can survive and, somehow, keep dreaming.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center\"><strong>References<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Brave NoiseCat, J. (2020, June 15). How to survive an apocalypse and keep dreaming.&nbsp;<em>The Nation.&nbsp;<\/em>https:\/\/www.thenation.com\/article\/society\/native-american-postapocalypse\/<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Schreiber, H. (2014). Curious chemistry guides hydrangea colors.<em>&nbsp;American Scientist, 102<\/em>(6), 444-451. https:\/\/doi.org\/10.1511\/2014.111.444<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Wallace-Wells, D. (2017). The uninhabitable earth, annotated edition.&nbsp;<em>New York Magazine.<\/em>https:\/\/nymag.com\/intelligencer\/2017\/07\/climate-change-earth-too-hot-for-humans-annotated.html<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Whyte, K. P. (2018). Indigenous science (fiction) for the anthropocene: Ancestral dystopias and fantasies of climate change crises.&nbsp;<em>Environment and Planning E: Nature and Space, 1<\/em>(1-2), 224-242. https:\/\/doi.org\/10.1177%2F2514848618777621<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The smallest rotation in my position has created a great shift in the view from my sit spot. I was drawn to beautiful purple and blue flowers that sit on a lush hydrangea bush at the side of my house. A bush that does not get nearly the admiration it deserves. Observing and reflecting upon [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1113,"featured_media":473,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_uag_custom_page_level_css":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-480","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"uagb_featured_image_src":{"full":["https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/1073\/2022\/08\/Tiny-Ecology-2-2.jpeg",2213,1759,false],"thumbnail":["https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/1073\/2022\/08\/Tiny-Ecology-2-2-150x150.jpeg",150,150,true],"medium":["https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/1073\/2022\/08\/Tiny-Ecology-2-2-300x238.jpeg",300,238,true],"medium_large":["https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/1073\/2022\/08\/Tiny-Ecology-2-2-768x610.jpeg",768,610,true],"large":["https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/1073\/2022\/08\/Tiny-Ecology-2-2-1024x814.jpeg",768,611,true],"1536x1536":["https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/1073\/2022\/08\/Tiny-Ecology-2-2-1536x1221.jpeg",1536,1221,true],"2048x2048":["https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/1073\/2022\/08\/Tiny-Ecology-2-2-2048x1628.jpeg",2048,1628,true],"boardwalk-featured-image":["https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/1073\/2022\/08\/Tiny-Ecology-2-2-980x980.jpeg",980,980,true],"boardwalk-hero-image":["https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/1073\/2022\/08\/Tiny-Ecology-2-2-2000x1500.jpeg",2000,1500,true],"boardwalk-logo":["https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/1073\/2022\/08\/Tiny-Ecology-2-2-121x96.jpeg",121,96,true]},"uagb_author_info":{"display_name":"Danielle","author_link":"https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/author\/ddiaz\/"},"uagb_comment_info":0,"uagb_excerpt":"The smallest rotation in my position has created a great shift in the view from my sit spot. I was drawn to beautiful purple and blue flowers that sit on a lush hydrangea bush at the side of my house. A bush that does not get nearly the admiration it deserves. Observing and reflecting upon&hellip;","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/480","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1113"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=480"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/480\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":481,"href":"https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/480\/revisions\/481"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/473"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=480"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=480"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/webspace.royalroads.ca\/ddiaz\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=480"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}