It is sad and disturbing that it seems our only idea of progress is growth. And our only idea of growth is expansion. And our only idea of expansion is profit. And our only idea of profit is value. And the only value we’ve come to honor is the dollar….
The dollar is nothing but a medium of exchange representing the exchange of what is living for what is static, abstract and dead. When it is all gone what amount of dollars will measure the loss?
“Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in it’s becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.”
