I have Melissophobia. For those who don’t know, this is fear of bees. Though calling it “fear” might be a bit unfair. I quiver in pant-shitting terror if a bee is within eyesight. So today, when the hubby and I hopped in the car to go to the gym, the buzz and stripes of something capable of stinging me flashed in my rear view window and I had to remember to put the car in park before I jumped out of it.
We spent about 10 minutes attempting to get the thing out of the car before I decided it needed to die. Quickly. He, being the manly man, took an old WSJ out of the back seat and beat the living shit out of it.
I am thoroughly convinced that nature is out to kill me. I know this to be true since, in the survival of the fittest, my lack of claws, sharp teeth, and copious amounts of soft nommable flesh put me squarely at the bottom of the food chain were I thrown in say, the middle of the rain-forest.
In the end, this puts me at odds with the general consensus of the pagan community; which seems to insist that nature wants to hug me with its nurturing, green arms.
I have a reverence for nature because I respect it. I think most of us respect things that are capable of causing us intense bodily harm. I am, however, not mistaken enough to believe that nature cares about me, or whether I dance under the moonlight, or whether I walk among the meadows barefoot at Beltane. Nature, as an entity, exists as an environment created solely for survival and, more than likely, wants me dead more than anyone else.
I am taking up valuable resources and contributing little back besides waste and my own share of humanity’s carbon footprint. I catch colds, infect other human beings, occasionally litter, and have been known to spit chewing gum on the side walk.
If nature were a giant computer program, I’d be garbage out all the way.
This isn’t to say that I believe nature should be conquered or tamed by mankind. Despite all of our best efforts, it will, inevitably find some way to get rid of us once we’ve reached the level where our shenanigans are too much for it to bear. We’ll die out, turn to dust, and feed the next generation of sentient beings who attempt to master the world and the elements.
Until that happens I fully recognize the power of nature and its awe inspiring majesty. I also acknowledge that, like a witness protection program, the moment I forget that housing and a car protects me from it; it will be there to fuck my shit up.
I am one of those pagans who loves nature from afar; who spent enough time during camping trips being eaten up by mosquitoes and hiding food from bears, and recognizes that Piranha are Poseidon’s little garbage disposals. For those reasons, I probably won’t be attending any “nature worship” rituals any time soon. But I’ll watch from the sidelines and glory in the beauty of man as we pray nature doesn’t decide to give us that final “fuck off” we deserve.