Down a winding, well-maintained walking path connecting two charming campgrounds, sat a bit of a clearing in what was otherwise a densely treed area. This clearing boasted all kinds of interesting grasses and flowers, and it was one of the stops on a walking tour where vacationers could learn more about the environment they were camping in.
It was part of a program at a campground in the Okanagan where my family visited each summer. The program included nature walks and evening presentations led by a naturalist who would come and speak about the plants and animals that were all around us. The best ones were the nature walks because as we moved along the trails the naturalist would stop and point out things that many of us would have otherwise missed.
I was a child when my family did this, but I can still remember the interpreter who led the program. Each summer I looked forward to hearing him because his stories were so good. Whether he was talking about bears in BC or moss along the trail, every piece of information was made more memorable by a personal anecdote. He was a gifted storyteller who could draw us into his narrative, and teach so much at the same time.
The clearing, which stands out for me, is the location where I believe I heard my first speech about the importance of caring for the environment. I can't tell you the specifics of what was said, but even as a child I can remember the way he shared it. As we stood just feet from the lake, under the canopy of massive trees, next to a vast representation of berries, flowers and grasses, his passion for what was all around us was expressed in a way that inspired. Standing in the idyllic location certainly helped sell the message, but even more so it was his gentle nature. What he was saying mattered deeply to him, and he delivered it in a way that caused us to take note and listen carefully.
When I look back over those presentations I see now that it was some really good environmental education, and it was effective. By contrast, I admit I have little patience for what has passed for environmental conversations the last number of years, largely because we've left discussion in the dust and traded it for shouting down and shutting out opposing points of view.
It is the 50th anniversary of Earth Day, marked each year on April 22 in more than 190 countries. It will take on a different look this year, but then again, the earth has taken on a different look, too. How we live has been altered drastically—and it shows. We've seen how air quality, waterways and wildlife patterns have been impacted by the change in human activity. Once we get back to life as we used to know it, that might change. But it doesn't have to. Imagine that we draw on all the things we've experienced and take those lessons into how we resume living; reminding ourselves that we can get by with much, much less. That we don't need to travel at the drop of a hat. That simpler things in life shine far brighter than any bling and glitz ever could. That nothing we think we need to accumulate offers anything that lasts. Of course it's far more complex and bigger than just that, but ultimately it starts with the individual and the way we choose to live.
As we approach the first-ever digital earth day, maybe it could also be the start of a new way to have the conversation. Instead of the finger pointing and blame game; instead of the good guys versus bad guys; instead of the slogans and placards; so much more could be achieved if we each took another look at what we are doing and how it impacts the environment we all share responsibility for. No activist will ever get my attention the way a walk in the woods did with someone who wanted nothing more than for others to see what he was seeing. That's my outlook.
