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Tune Your Ear to the Earth

by Traute Klein, biogardener

The love of the earth unites people of all races. I learned this lesson in the middle of a dark summer night from a aboriginal man who saw my love of nature in the way I tend my garden.

A North American Aboriginal in Manhattan

Here is a story which was emailed to me by 14-year-old Alyson to whose daily inspirational email messages I subscribe.

The Cricket

A Native American and his friend were in downtown New York City, walking near Times Square in Manhattan. It was during the noon lunch hour and the streets were filled with people. Cars were honking their horns, taxicabs were squealing around corners, sirens were wailing, and the sounds of the city were almost deafening. Suddenly, the Native American said, "I hear a cricket."

His friend said, "What? You must be crazy. You couldn't possibly hear a cricket in all of this noise!"

"No, I'm sure of it," the Native American said, "I heard a cricket."

"That's crazy," said the friend.

The Native American listened carefully for a moment, and then walked across the street to a big cement planter where some shrubs were growing. He looked into the bushes, beneath the branches, and sure enough, he located a small cricket. His friend was utterly amazed.

"That's incredible," said his friend. "You must have superhuman ears!" "No," said the Native American, "my ears are no different from yours. It all depends on what you are listening for."

"But that can't be!" said the friend. "I could never hear a cricket in this noise."

"Yes, it's true," came the reply. "It depends on what is really important to you. Here, let me show you."

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a few coins, and discreetly dropped them on the sidewalk. And then, with the noise of the crowded street still blaring in their ears, they noticed every head within twenty feet turn and look to see if the money that tinkled on the pavement was theirs.

"See what I mean?" asked the Native American. "It all depends on what is important to you."

Tuned to the Earth

I love this story because I can identify with people whose ears are tuned to the sounds of Nature. I hear little birds chirping in the middle of the city which are unnoticeable to others, even when I point them out to them. I see little plants overpowering the concrete jungle trying to reach for the sun in spite of the pollution all around them. Other people step on them because they do not even notice them.

My garden is different from other people's gardens. It is ruled by the laws of nature. I do not try to impose an unnatural urban mask on it. People who pass my garden have a definite reaction to it, either positive or negative, depending on whether their eyes are open to the faces of nature. Most people love the naturalized setting in the middle of the city, but a few have a strong negative reaction.

A North American Native in Winnipeg

During the hottest time of the summer, I love to work in my garden late in the evening or early in the morning to take advantage of the coolness. Close to midnight one evening, while I thought I was all alone outside working by the light of the street lanterns, a native North American neighbor came by and brought one of his relatives along. He told me that he had enjoyed passing my garden many times and had been wanting to meet its creator. He also had wanted his nephew to see this marvel of a garden surrounded by properties of unnatural front lawns sprayed with herbicide.

Both men appeared to have been drinking. The smell was unmistakable. They seemed totally out of place in this urban setting. They longed to be in their native environment where they were probably able to communicate with the creatures of the plains and forest much more fluently than with the civil servants to whom they had to report in the city. I could sympathise with them. I, too, was having considerable problems communicating with the bureaucrats who tried to tell me that my garden had to disappear because it happened to offend two of my neighbors.

These two men dealt with their frustration by drinking. I dealt with mine by weeping. We were, however, united in the love of the earth which we shared.

Thank You for Loving the Earth

The older man expressed to me in a few simple words what was on his heart:
"Thank you for looking after this earth as our ancestors would have looked after it."

I was touched by the sincerity of his compliment. We stood in silence as we embraced each other in the dark of the night. The nephew learned a lesson that day which I am sure he will never forget:

that his heritage of love for this earth will unite people of all races.

© Traute Klein, biogardener