The Sad Fate of Sally or Petey Possum

These days, I have so many tears lying just beneath the surface. So many. And there are not enough opportunities to allow these tears to flow. As much as I want or need to cry, I just can't.

One morning I was sitting on my front porch and a very large crow landed in the dogwood tree in our front yard. He was raising a ruckus about something. He faced the street in front of our house and ceaselessly cawed.  I talk to crows because they are so smart, I believe they understand me. At the very least, I think they can tell by the tone of my voice that I love them and I mean them no harm. So I asked the crow, "Do you have something to tell me?" He remained on the branch of the dogwood tree for a few more seconds yelling at the street and then he flew away.

I sat there, taking in the crisp morning air when I noticed something on the street. I put on my glasses and discovered it was a dead possum.

I went inside, put on some gloves and got a plastic bag in order to collect the possum's body. As I went outside, I noticed the person across the street in their car getting ready to back out of their driveway. This would almost certainly have caused further ruination to the poor possum's body. I rushed over to the possum's side, holding up my hand for the person to stop. Which they did. I gathered the body in the plastic bag. It was not completely taken by the process of rigor mortis. The blood was bright red. It seemed to me that this possum had been hit fairly recently.

I carried her lifeless body to the backyard and began digging a grave underneath a giant pine tree. I kept hitting roots and decided to dig around them. In this way, I sculpted an earthen cradle with a canopy of roots. I burned some sage and smoked the newly dug environs. I burned a candle and dropped some tobacco into the hole as a blessing. I removed the possum from the plastic, wrapped her in soft red cloth and tucked her into her resting place. She seemed comfortable there. As I covered her body with dirt, I began to cry. I apologized for the harsh end to which her life had come. I thanked her for her life. I told her I love her. And the tears flowed.

Once her body was covered, I heaped a pile of pine needles on top of her grave and placed some pine cones across the top. I put a piece of a cinder block at the foot of the grave. A fence stands at her head. So it is as if she has a headboard and a footboard to her bed underneath the tall pine tree in our backyard.

~~~

Towards the end of winter this year, I was awakened by a very rambunctious crow right outside my bedroom window. I dressed to go outside and see what the commotion was about. I discovered the crow was yelling at a possum in a tree. This went on for a long time, long enough for me to grab my phone and make a video of it. It seemed to me that the crow did not like the possum very much and was telling it to go away. The possum seemed nonplussed. Eventually the crow flew away and the possum ambled down out of the tree and on her way.

In the Spring, a baby possum found her way into our house. There was evidence that she had been making nightly stops to feast on dog food left in a bowl on the kitchen floor. My ally captured her and put her in a cardboard box with a little towel and some bits of food. We pondered what to do with her. Ultimately, we simply set her free in our backyard, which, even though we live by a street that is frequented by automobiles, provides a nice habitat for possums and rabbits and the like.

The next night, she returned. We captured her again, and again we set her free in the morning. I named this baby possum Sweet Sally Possum. I loved her. My ally and I continued this catch and release ritual with Sally until my ally decided it was time to set her free in a park. He captured her in a Have-a-Heart trap and drove her to a nice park with lots of trees and a stream running through it. I was a little bit sad about this move. At least if she remained in our backyard she would be safe, I thought. There was no harm in having her come in for dog food treats, I thought. I tried leaving dog food treats for her in the backyard. But if I failed at my task, she would return to the dog food bowl in the kitchen.

After Sally was taken away, another possum began to come in. He liked to show his teeth more than Sally, so I named him Petey. We played catch and release with Petey a few times before my ally drove him to the park as well.

I relate the story of the crow and possum and of Sally and Petey to you because I find it meaningful that this year has been bookmarked by episodes including them. A crow yelling at a possum in a tree, a crow yelling at a possum in the street, baby possums hanging out in our backyard, making nightly visits, and an adult possum buried in our backyard under a tall pine tree. There is no way to know if the possum I buried was Petey or Sally. But I honor them daily as I visit the possum's grave. The possums and the crows ushered in delight and tears. Both are necessary for my survival. I am grateful for this passage of time demarked by these beings and the quiet moments shared with Possum and Crow.

This We Do In Remembrance of You, Dan River

On Ash Wednesday, 2014 I began a weekly practice which I called "Coal Ash Wednesdays." I initiated this practice in response to the coal ash spill at the Dan River on February 2 as a means of dealing with my personal sorrow and shame: sorrow from the pollution of this beautiful land that has sustained us, sorrow for the deaths of river wildlife, sorrow for the known health risks coal ash brings to the people living along the river and shame for being a contributing factor to the source of the pollution.

I am a Duke Energy customer.  I rely on this corporation for electricity.  I rely on electricity to maintain a lifestyle of comfort and ease. But Duke Energy creates the bulk of its electricity through the burning of coal which results in the waste product of coal ash. My mindless consumption of electricity is no longer acceptable.

What must I do?  How must I live?  Duke Energy is my only option as a power company.  I am not in a financial or physical place to install solar panels. I either must do without electricity or suck it up and continue to use Duke Energy as my source of it.  Neither of these options appeals to me.  

I decided the best way to express my grief and honor the earth would be to drastically reduce my consumption of electricity.  And at a given time each week, I would cut off the main breaker at my home, completely severing my connection with Duke Energy, for a minimum of one half an hour. I established a page on a social media site to invite others to do the same.  This was the start of Coal Ash Wednesdays.

I launched this initiative on Ash Wednesday for a couple of reasons.  In the Christian tradition, Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of a period of repentance known as Lent.  For 40 days, believers fast as a means of repenting for their sins and preparing for the return of Christ on Easter Sunday. It is a time of contemplation, mourning and repentance for all the frailties of being human.  Fasting is historically a standard practice during this time.  Over time, fasting has been replaced with the intentional "giving up" of sweets, meat, coffee, wheat and so on.  At a special service on Ash Wednesday, ash is smeared on the foreheads of participants indicating their process of grieving and penance.

The ash that spewed out of the holding ponds at the Duke Energy plant in Eden was toxic.  It destroyed lives in the river and along its banks.  We who consume Duke Energy's product are complicit in this disaster.  We are responsible. So we, the participants of Coal Ash Wednesdays, as a form of grief and penance, gave up a bit of our massive consumption of energy during Lent and beyond. And every Wednesday from 7:30 p.m. til 8:00 p.m. we shut off our main breakers in unison.

On the first Coal Ash Wednesday, people shared photographs of candlelit dinners with family, board games played by the light of a fireplace, sharing a glass of wine with a beloved. By simply cutting off the main breaker to their homes, they stepped out of the frenetic pace of life with its constant bombardment of electronic stimuli, and they interacted with each other.  Face to face. Despite the fact that we were all scattered across different towns, we engaged in an act of communion by uniting in this process of stepping back, taking a breath, listening to silence, enjoying each other's company and intentionally removing our connection to Duke Energy.

In cutting off our main breakers, we completely stop the flow of electrical current into our homes. We temporarily sever our connection with Duke Energy: the corporation that continues to mishandle its coal ash waste, the corporation responsible for the spill in the Dan River, the one never held fully accountable. This severance feels good.  It feels powerful.  It unleashes the imagination to the limitless possibilities we have as good stewards of the planet.

When the main breaker is off, the house feels unnaturally quiet and still. It is as if I can feel the rhythm of the planet rather than the ticking of the electric meter. I feel connected to the land both in my state of quietude and in my intentional act of severance from Duke Energy.

For me, Coal Ash Wednesday is less of a protest and more of a spiritual practice; a "giving up" of electricity in mourning and in penance. But I do like to think that if enough people participate in this act, maybe we can make a statement to Duke Energy will be heard in their profit margins. It's a dream I like to have: that "people have the power to redeem the work of fools."   

On February 2 I've proposed we cut off our main breakers from 7 a,m until noon.  These are peak hours of electric consumption for Duke Energy during the winter months and a time when the rates are a bit higher: $1.20 more per kilowatt-hour. This can result in a big savings on your electric bill if you make shutting off your main breaker a daily or even weekly practice - even if only for one half an hour a week. And any money I don't have to pay to Duke Energy I can use for investing in renewable energy companies or environmental organizations. It is my one small way of working for better energy options.  It is my one small way of giving back to Mother Nature.  It is my way of saying I'm sorry and I'm trying to do better.