There lingers in me whenever I
commune with nature, usually during a walk or a hike in the canyons, a naming
instinct that wants to label every shrub, wildflower, and tree that I see. If I could do this, I reason, I would have an
educated relationship to the forest; I would comprehend the place that I
contemplate. For that is ultimately what
I am seeking; a way to process and record the experience, a way to feel that I
have a relationship to that area.
One day we walked under the
cottonwoods of City
Creek Canyon. The stream filled at places with watercress
ran full with a burbling swush, a thousand shades of
green tossed as the leaves turned in the breeze; bright golden sunflowers
boldly withstood the late sun in the meadow a mile upwards. I saw a deer towards where the pine stands
start, moving towards an evening drink.
Looking at the staggering variety of
shape and growth of the trees that line either side of the road, and not having
enough names for each individual difference in the trees, and thinking of each
tree as a living being with a spirit of its own, I suddenly began to realize
that labeling isn't comprehension. I
said to my husband, "Look all around us- humans believe that if they can
label something or describe it, then it is understood. If we look at a morning dove, and say 'That
is a morning dove, Zenaida macroura,'
then we feel that we are superior to it, and if we add a knowledge of a
species' basic habits, then we feel that it is explained, and that there is not
any more that one could know of it."
"However, each morning dove is
separate and unique, each has its own soul, history,
personality, emotions, unique characteristics.
Therefore we are not really accomplishing very much if we only name it
or know about it vaguely. Look at each
tree here – each has its own individual history, down to the molecular
level. If I say, 'this tree is a
cottonwood, Populus deltoidea,'
then I am not telling about its birth, its ancestry back thousands of years,
the heat or cold of its summers and winters, the squirrels that lives nearby
and run along its branches, its struggles with its neighbor trees for sunlight,
etc. There is so much information here
that no computer system, or any recording system, could ever contain it. We are looking at infinity here in this small
section of the canyon!"
Through a moment of epiphany amongst
the tossing branches of canyon trees learned that labeling is a false category
of knowledge because it overlooks what is – the truth that there is more to
know than systems contain in order to interact with the deepest truth about
nature and being.
Perhaps the morning dove, who does not label and
categorize, perhaps the morning dove that approaches each elm and each song
sparrow as a separate experience and knows the position of the branches, which
is best to build a nest in and which is best for a view, and knows the time of
day by the position of the sun and by the temperature, perhaps the morning dove
has a better way to relate to nature. It
is dynamic, potent; the swaying of leaves, the sighing of the wind, the leaves
that scatter on the ground. We can learn
from this, if only that labeling is proper in a book, though a tree is always
more than the sentence that describes it.