In Zimbabwe on safari last year, we rode most of the time in a Land Rover with a roof to shield us from the sun, starting out at 5:30 am in order to catch the wildlife feeding. It was worth getting up in the dark–and the freezing cold–and fumbling around in our tent cabin to find our clothes and equipment. Early meant driving through blond grasses caressed by golden morning light, seeing the acacia trees casting long shadows, and coming upon scenes like this one.
Along with the sheer delight and surprise that came with every sighting, I felt a sense of privilege at being able to see animals that had become a kind of fiction to me, that now were becoming real. We had to keep pinching ourselves and repeating, “We are not at Wild Animal Park. There are no fences. This is the bush, and we are in the wilds of southern Africa.”
One morning a different realization bubbled up from my insides as we bumped along a dirt road, casting a long Land Rover shadow. “All this that we are seeing–that used to be fiction to me–is actually the real world. And we are the alien beings visiting it from the artificial world. The wildlife is tolerating our presence, probably because this is a reserve and there is no hunting allowed here. But make no mistake: when a zebra looks up and stares at us, it is because we are predators.”
It’s never felt very good to me to be a predator, but now I had to recognize that reality in a deeper way than ever before. Humans have established themselves as the ‘Super-predator,” armed now with weapons that can massacre huge, glorious animals for no reason at all except some strange sense of accomplishment. I had a new level of distaste for trophy hunters that I predict will never go away.
Unfortunately, just because I don’t hunt trophy animals, I can’t delete my name from the list of predators. I will, by nature of being a two-legged, always be suspect in the wild animal kingdom. And, we are predators of Mother Earth herself, by virtue of our pollutants, toxins, waste and destruction of resources. And so the question came to me: How can this relationship be healed?
I’ll just offer some ideas about how this question might relate to our wellness and our wisdom.
1. In what ways do we act as predators in our lives? You might make a list, even if this is not a fun process. Consider your habits at home, at work and in your relationships. For example, I collect more odd kinds of packaging than I care to name, knowing that it’s harmful to the environment. I travel to speak, creating a carbon footprint. And, in my close relationships, I often try to “get” my own way–an attitude that could be called predatory.
2. How do these kinds of habits lead to dis-ease? Well, I would like to find ways to reduce my load on The Mother, and I aim to become a more and more compassionate and tender being, especially to those I love. I believe the peace and love that could emanate from these changes will create a cascade of ‘good chemistry” in my body that leads to higher levels of wellness.
3. My sense of purpose about being a healer of the planet demands that I listen to the wisdom of the indigenous people of the Amazon, who point out the difference between the eagle and the condor in their sacred traditions. The eagle (notice that it is the U.S. symbol) is predatory, and has led us to where we are today. The condor is the new symbol for the kind of grand flight that doesn’t put me above you, or demand that if I have abundance, you are deprived.
In our process of consciously evolving, we can rise to a new level where instead of being aliens in the natural world (including both the wilderness and our own inner nature), we “return to the Garden.” Peruvian shamans say that we were never thrown out. We have the birthright of innocence, wonder, cooperation, caring–and when we claim it, we become healers of ourselves and the planet.
