It’s something to walk for hours in boggy mud and look back and be able to see where you came from. We have had the distinct displeasure of working in some places where you would look back and see nothing but a slight trail that faded every second you watched. It makes me think of how short our lives are.
I attended the funeral of a dear friend’s father today. I sat amongst his loved ones. I heard the prayers. Sang the hymns. I shed tears for my friend’s loss – so soon after the loss of his mother. I can’t even imagine how short life must seem to my friend today. Far too short I imagine.
We are here on this world for a short time. We work so hard each day to leave our mark – we shout out to the heavens that WE WERE HERE. We carve our names in tree trunks and stick our hands in wet cement. We want future generations to know exactly who we were and that we were important. We use a lot of energy making our marks upon this earth.
I thought today of how hard I work to make my mark – oh, it’s a different kind of mark. No one will know my name. I am not a famous scientists writing unique ideas or principles in dark ink upon paper. I am not a heady philosopher thinking of new ways to live our lives. I am not a great poet or artist mopping colors across the canvas so that the world will stand open-mouthed before my works.
I am one of many who will never be known. Millions will see our work. Thousands may remark at how lovely they are or how amazing it is to see something so beautiful. They will never know our names, or sing our praises. They may sit quietly and wonder how this beautiful scenery came to be.
I thought how ironic that someone, someone who is working hard to create a great masterpiece and leave their mark upon the world, may sit beside a small clear running stream never knowing that that is my mark. How ironic….and how beautiful. I wonder whose marks I walk past each day. The long dead woman who planted a garden where there was none. The family who planted an oak each year someone was born – I stand now in their garden, I sit under their oak and write….how ironic.
It’s so true! The best work we’ll ever do is identify, and then help to restore natural processes leaving behind no “built environment.” You articulated your recognition beautifully. Great way for me to start the weekend.
LikeLike
Thank you – I know so many of us can feel this way sometimes….makes me wonder if we shoudl start a database of environmental projects so that the intangibles can be known later by someone who cares!
LikeLike
Take pleasure in knowing that you will be exalted in the heart of some other unknown person in the future who will watch the sun rise or set on the very spot you left the trace of your spirit. They will wonder about you when they hear your voice on a gentle breeze. They will be inspired by how sunlight and shadow entwine with the flora and fauna you saved for them. How grateful I am for those who had the forethought to preserve a stream or a tree for me, unknown to them, but rewarded by their soul all the same. Enjoyed this post!
LikeLike
Excellent post Jacque. We are so very temporal and too easily forget it.
LikeLike
Great write-up. Some of the most meaningful work I performed was for ADS Environmental Services, a sewer flow monitoring company. No one will ever know that my data analysis led to finding leaking sewer pipes that were subsequently fixed by local municipalities to keep the local environment free of toxic chemicals. But my wife can attest to my pointing out the places along streets, rivers and streams where my work made an impact, thankfully unseen today.
Keep up the wonderful work — we won’t forget you!
LikeLike
Reblogged this on Eremophila’s Musings and commented:
A beautiful thought provoking piece of writing.
LikeLike
Thank you. I am glad you came by and enjoyed it!
LikeLike
Nice words. Your best piece, frankly.
How philosophically transcendental, and I think that was by accident.
You need to read “Walden” by Thoreau.
LikeLike
All this from a walk in the mud?
Very cool! Your journeys result in great blog posts!
LikeLike
I work on vagrant lichens that live in sand dunes. The footprints I leave behind are the low spots where the windblown lichens accumulate later on. So the next time I go out, I can see my previous walk outlined in clumps of lichens. An ephemeral ghost of my passing.
LikeLike
Amazing…this is a beautiful comment…thanks
LikeLike
This is a beautiful and thought-provoking post. Thank you for writing it and thank you for the work you do. I am in awe.
LikeLike
Great post!
LikeLike
I’ll think abour your mark next time I sit beside a bubbling clear stream, and hopefully that will be real soon.
LikeLike
Many of the same thoughts go through my mind anytime I see vast, open farm fields in the Midwestern U.S. So many of the thousands of small family farms, built in the 1800’s and rich with love and family history, have all been torn down and plowed under by large-scale modern agriculture. Thankfully, we have historical societies that preserve many of those histories that would otherwise be completely forgotten.
LikeLike
Beautiful post. I think you’re leaving the best kind of mark.
LikeLike
WOW! To be honest, I never really thought about the impacts of the little things I do in my work. You gave me a new perspective about the importance of the things we do in our jobs. Thank you for this great post!
LikeLike