Building Community at the Edge of the Precipice

 

The Sturgeon River has been carving the gorge out for a long time, longer than a human life time.  That is for sure.  The flowing water bubbles over smoothed river rocks forming deep pools in the serpentine curves. And in winter, snow and ice cover most of the river which continues to flow out to Georgian Bay in Lake Huron.  A few days ago, I stood on the edge of the gorge about a hundred feet above the river, listening to it gurgling under the ice.  I had one hand on the trunk of a large Eastern Hemlock tree to keep my balance.  Its huge roots broke through the cliff face in a few places as the soil was gradually eroded by rain and wind.

 “What a precarious place to grow,” I thought.  Perhaps there had been more soil on the cliff’s edge when the tree began its life as a sapling.  Across the gorge, I could see a few trees that had fallen from the far bank into the river.  I wondered if one day, this Hemlock would also tumble down the steep bank.  I closed my eyes and imagined the whole root structure of the tree that I was touching.  Instead of the imminent disaster that I had just "seen",  my imaginal eyes could see instead how the roots held the soil of the cliff in place.  

 I have a fascination with the roots of Eastern Hemlock trees.  They speak to me and teach me about building community.  Last year, they showed me how communities were like baskets or nests, woven one root, one fibre, one conversation at a time.  They had taught me how the strength of the basket, the nest or the community allowed work to be done in its centre, in the space protected by the woven edge.  Now, I wondered what this tree clinging to the edge of the cliff had to teach me.  The tree was indeed clinging to the soil, but it was also containing and anchoring the soil.  The Hemlock was preventing erosion.  It was rooted here at the precipice, at the place where everything dropped off, maintaining the integrity of the cliff’s edge and protecting the forest behind it.

Many people are feeling as though they are living at the edge of their own precipices brought on by climate change, a global pandemic, loss, change and uncertainty.  What is keeping them from falling in?  One thing that being separated from each other has taught us is the importance of social interactions for one’s mental health.  Perhaps, it could be community that holds people from falling into the abyss.  “And so,” whispered the Hemlocks, “ what better place is there than the edge of a precipice to weave roots, relationships and responsibilities into a community, into a nest?”