I had only a silent howl to express what I felt the first time last week that I looked out over the clear-cuts near the 
cabin in which I once lived. A day later, I went back to document the slaughter. The ruler is one-foot long. There are many more than 200 rings on the stump – I could only count that many because I was on private property and a truck pulled off the road up ahead of where I “trespassed”.
Thirty-four years ago last month, I moved into a one-room lumber scrap and wallboard cabin in an old hippie enclave a two-minute walk from this tree. Every late afternoon and twilight, I walked the forest around our little community. I came to know that living web better than I knew my own body.
Now. The web is gone. Death rules. I wrote op eds, columns, stories and books for three decades in order to thank the forest world for what it taught me. Now. There is nothing left to write for the Place except this obituary. Obituary and Obscenity start with the same two letters.
And you? Would you write to save a beloved? If not, why bother to consume these Breakthrough posts? Pretend that what you write in twenty minutes could save a beloved. Send us your words, and in doing so, re-claim your right to live in this planet.
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