JOURNAL
(Image on the right sourced
through Kentuckians for the Commonwealth)
I LOVE MOUNTAINS
February 22, 2009
Not many of us are living at our best. We linger in the lowlands because we are afraid to climb into the mountains. The steepness and ruggedness dismay us, and so we stay in the misty valleys and do not learn the mystery of the hills. We do not know what we lose in our self indulgence, what glory awaits us if only we had courage for the mountain climb, what blessing we should find if only we would move to the uplands of God.
From Preface of Unto the Hills: A Meditation on the One Hundred and Twenty-First Psalm, J. R. Miller
Note: Psalm 121 is one of the songs of ascent and begins as follows:
1 I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?2 My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
I came across the above passage by J. R. Miller a couple of years ago, but it was only until I began learning about the horrific effects of mountaintop removal coal mining that the passage took on new meaning for me.
For those unfamiliar with the practice, mountaintop removal mining is a type of coal mining where coal companies blow up the tops of mountains to reach the coal underneath. Then nearby valleys and streams are filled with the waste rock, ruining entire watersheds and often the water supplies of nearby communities. But mountaintop removal mining doesn’t just affect a few unfortunate communities. It affects all Kentuckians, and if we don’t feel the direct effects of it now, we will in the not-so-distant future. Streams polluted by mountaintop removal lead into the Kentucky River, and the Kentucky River is a tributary of the Ohio River. As Kentuckians for the Commonwealth (KFTC) states on its website, “More than 1,400 miles of streams in Kentucky were buried or significantly damaged by coal mining valley fills between 1981 and 2005. These headwaters are the source of major rivers that provide drinking water for more than 1 million Kentuckians. Truly, we all live downstream.” .
On February 17, a friend and I drove to Frankfort where we stood alongside hundreds of others and rallied on the Capitol steps in support of the “Stream-Saver” bill and to speak out against mountaintop removal and all its destructive consequences. It was the second “I Love Mountains Day” rally I’ve attended, and just like last year, I was genuinely impressed by the passion, courage, and respectful resistance I witnessed among the participants.
I’ve been apolitical most of my life. It’s not that I haven’t cared passionately enough about something. It’s not that I’m a cynic at heart and believe all the ranting and raving in the world won’t change things. It’s not even that I’ve been afraid to put myself out there, open myself up to attack. No, it’s that I’ve always felt that taking a strong position on an issue would prevent me from seeing the other side, crazy as that may sound. Above all else, I try to stay objective and open-minded about things. The world, life, people are complex, and there is so much more than meets the eye, so much more than what we can glean from hearsay or news snippets. And, frankly, I prefer unity over discord. I like to focus on what pulls people together rather than what divides us.
But this issue, for me, is a no-brainer. I’ve taken the time to learn what the coal companies have to say for themselves. One of King Coal’s arguments is that the land being leveled will be improved, filled with malls and golf courses and Lord knows what other man-made “enhancements,” and that these improvements will lead to new economic and employment opportunities. But I still can’t get past the simple fact that once a mountaintop is gone, it’s gone. Forever. These mountains that have been on this earth for hundreds of millions of years. And of course there are all the health, economic, environmental, cultural, and ethical concerns associated with the mountaintop removal process. “An abomination on God’s earth,” John Yarmuth called it when he spoke at the rally, and I couldn’t agree more.
Actress Ashley Judd, a proud Appalachian, came to the rally this year and gave an uplifting speech, even offering a few solutions to the problem, including economic alternatives to mountaintop removal mining. “One person can make a difference,” she assured. “Will you be that one person?”
I know I wasn’t contributing much by appearing at “I Love Mountains Day.” (Heck, I didn’t even participate in the .6 mile march prior to the rally.) But I was there. Madeleine L’Engle wrote, “Compassion is particular; it is never general.” Going to events like “I Love Mountains Day” or reading books like Ann Pancake’s Strange As This Weather Has Been has helped me put a human face to a once-abstract concept. I have seen up close who is affected, what’s at stake. I’ve heard and read the testimonies of some of the bravest, most hardworking people, who have to drink polluted water, fear torrential flooding, and watch as the majestic mountains in their own backyards, from which their unique cultural heritage and identity have evolved, are obliterated. And I’ve learned what’s at stake for them—in many cases, their very lives.
Back in the city after the rally, I stood at the counter at my dry cleaners. “So you love mountains, do you?” the genial store owner asked me. I had forgotten I was still wearing my “I (heart) Mountains” sticker from the rally. “I do,” I said, although, without thinking, I’d already begun to peel the sticker off my coat--still a little shy, I suppose, in my new role as activist.
We linger in the lowlands because we are afraid to climb into the mountains.
Being at the rally felt a little like a prayer, an act of faith. Who knows if my little voice (any of our voices) are being, or will be, heard. There are some who believe the purpose of prayer is more about affecting a change inside the one praying than affecting a change outside the person. Maybe I still have a ways to go before the heart in my chest matches the heart on my lapel, but I have to believe that regardless of the outward results our petitions may or may not yield, each of us--with every prayer, with every step of faith on our uphill climb--is experiencing an inner transformation, is getting that much closer to the glory that awaits us in the “uplands of God.”
Further resources:
http://www.kftc.org: (Kentuckians for the Commonwealth website.)
http://silashouseblog.blogspot.com: Author, musician, playwright, and activist (what can this man not do?) Silas House is one of Kentucky’s greatest voices against mountaintop removal. He also writes one of the most spiritually stimulating and heartfelt blogs out there. (Check out what he had to say about I Love Mountains Day on his latest blog.)
My review of Ann Pancake’s beautiful and compassionate novel, Strange as This Weather Has Been, about a family dealing with the devastating effects of mountaintop removal, can be found on this website, under the Reviews page.