My fifth and last creative journal for Environmental Education class now exists only in the past, in memories and in consequences.
I walked outside. I went for a walk and appreciated Earth as it is. With all its flaws and its beautiful things. I saw one rabbit alive and one that was dead. I saw gulls walking and flying. I saw the wind making the grass, newly green after the thaw of snow, shaking from here to there. I left the Wakpa Tower and went around all the buildings in the University of Regina, stopping at the First Nations University. I took off my jacket and felt the cold wind while I watched the crows cawing at something I didn’t know what it was. I saw ladybugs not moving under a thorny plant and hurt my finger lightly trying to get them. I saw trees with and without leaves, feathers with and without birds.
My performance was fleeting and fitting. The best thing I have to offer the Earth is my time, my senses, my curiosity and sense of wonder. Time flies and lost possible experiences can never be relived, much like the real outdoor experiences that can’t really be explained, only felt. I took pictures during the walk, recorded videos, gazed and listened and felt. I affected everything around me, leaving only footsteps, and everything affected me. My offering to the Earth is the time that I have. This creative journal is the time that I had. That is both my thanks and my gift. To all that made this possible, to all that lived here before, to all that helped preserve so much green around where for four months I called home. For all the living beings that survived the winter and now come say hello in their own specific ways.
No visuals go along with this entry because nothing could represent the real feelings of being outside. The good thing is anyone can recreate this performance, as long as they keep their eyes open, their ears attentive, and their skin and whole selves connected to what’s around, beyond the walls of our artificial homes.
My performance is in the past, but I am here.