The first time my sense of equality with non-humans expressed itself in behavior was as an early teen, becoming a vegetarian. It was somewhat abstract though, conceptual. It wouldn’t become visceral until later when I killed my first animal. It was suffering in the road late at night and close to death. That week in an improvisational dance class, I experienced their death firsthand. I stopped driving cars.
As an apprentice, my wildcrafting mentor would ask permission before harvesting. At the time I understood it as a ritual, to slow down and observe the environment. Now I see it as asking permission from an equal, someone who has intrinsic value, beauty, mystery… and right to life as I do.
As a homesteader, I butchered and ate my chicken and goat friends. I recognized their gift and promised I too would give my gift in turn. I did not ask permission.
I spend time in Squaxin Park, holding each and all beings as equals as I am able. It strikes me how many of us there are. It is both overwhelming and comforting.
I have been working for the past year and a half on understanding the parts of me that resist receiving mercy. We have built enough trust now that they can step aside safely. I can receive a sense of mercy from non-human friends now.
I wonder how these two experiences are related, equality and mercy. As I walk and approach Squaxin Forest, I am suddenly overwhelmed with the connection… viscerally, somatically, emotionally. Perhaps I will be able to put words to it someday.