If Your Homeland Were Invaded By Aliens

All We Want, Whether We Are Honeybees, Salmon, Trash-collecting Ants, Ponderosa Pines, Coyotes, Human Beings, Or Stars, Is To Love And Be Loved, To Be Accepted, Cherished, And Celebrated Simply For Being Who We Are. Is That So Very Difficult?

When Dams Were Erected On The Columbia, Salmon Battered Themselves Against The Concrete, Trying To Return Home. I Expect No Less From Us. We Too Must Hurl Ourselves Against And Through The Literal And Metaphorical Concrete That Contains And Constrains Us, That Keeps Us From Talking About What Is Most Important To Us, That Keeps Us From Living The Way Our Bones Know We Can, That Bars Us From Our Home. It Only Takes One Person To Bring Down A Dam.

Where Will You Drive Your Own Picket Stake? Where Will You Choose To Make Your Stand? Give Me A Threshold, A Specific Point At Which You Will Finally Stop Running, At Which You Will Finally Fight Back.

I Wondered What It Does To Each Of Us To Spend The Majority Of Our Waking Hours Doings Things We'd Rather Not Do, Wishing We Were Outside Or Simply Elsewhere, Wishing We Were Reading, Thinking, Making Love, Fishing, Sleeping, Or Simply Having Time To Figure Out Who The Hell We Are And What The Hell We're Doing.

Every Morning When I Awake I Ask Myself Whether I Should Write Or Blow Up A Dam. I Tell Myself I Should Keep Writing, Though I'm Not Sure That's Right