Clearing

For culture to take place, we cultivate, till, and manicure—but first, we clear. The action of clearing occupies a territory and changes verdant nature with the presence of humanity.

The clearing is among the simplest symbols of human presence. Whether bulldozed, mowed with a sickle, chopped down by ax, or control-burned, the clearing constitutes the first act of civilizing a place. When clearing is an abrupt, drastic harvest and abandonment of the remaining land, the result ravages the intricacies of natural systems . . . an anathema to human life.

If enduring, slow, and sensitive, space cleared for human occupation can be mutually sustaining for both the human and the biologic terrain they occupy. Even the lightest nest or tipi leaves a trace of humanity upon the land . . . nomad or settler, our presence alone and not the degree of permanence imprints—or rather, notches humanity’s presence upon the earth.

The clearing seems to say, "forever;" but the jungle closes back in again like a laceration healed over. Archeologists use satellite images to register the millennial changes to terrain and flora in places where humans once reigned. We build each age and again as witnesses to ruins of past human efforts; an entopic cycle, beginning with the ordering power of optimism and later leading into disgregation and abandonment. As with the words of Heraclitus, "What was scattered gathers. What was gathered blows apart." (as translated by Brooks Haxton)

Once made, the clearing fills again with human attention and awareness. Once attentions wane, the place dilapidates to weeds. The clearing must be kept. Maintenance and building form a single, ongoing activity. Our presence is expressed in our routine rituals of renewal . . . clearing and cleansing are kindred habits.