I call myself Viridi, and I am writing this while 80-feet from the ground.
Despite the few telecommunications that we can transmit and receive on solar energy, our tree blockade feels like a separate, distant place. I am writing this because I want you to hear our voices, and to feel inspired by our unfolding stories in this struggle against tar sands exploitation. Ultimately, I would love to see you join us somewhere on one of our many battlegrounds against the corporate giant, TransCanada.
This past Wednesday, September 26, many of us had a gut-wrenchingly visceral day. Around noon, another TransCanada helicopter buzzed over our platforms. As I heard its distant, incoming hum I shouted to the other trees and covered myself. My heart fluttered as I hid. The tallest leaves of the white oak I inhabit quivered and shook as it circled directly overhead. The air was tense until the sound of the machine faded. TransCanada has been eyeing us this way for weeks, but this was my first time being so close.
Within an hour we could hear the sounds of heavy machinery on the ground. They were slicing and crushing trees and undergrowth past a temporary timber bridge they had built 1,000-feet away. The machines continued to move closer, until they came into sight. The loud squeal of the bullhorn at our timber scaffolding wall 100-feet north of me cued us all to put on bandanas to protect our identity from lawsuits, as surveyors on foot approached. I peered behind the tarp that draped my platform to listen. The workers were pacing around, joking and harassing our comrades at the timber scaffold. They are our first line of defense.
The engines had stopped, and in that break of silence, a powerful voice came from 50-feet up, “This is a peaceful protest! If any of these structures are tampered with, people will be seriously injured or killed, and the world will know!” No response. “Turn your bulldozers and earthmovers around and leave this place!” Immediately, an engine fired again. The surveyors turned around to leave our frontline as the enormous feller buncher, a tree-killing machine, made its way closer.
Seconds slowly passed as decades of living growth was destroyed within only seconds. My heart began to race as falling trees and brush came within my sight, a haze of vaporized life stood still in the air ahead. I switched from my main climb line and climbed 20-feet higher for a better view. I watched the yellow-painted metal of the buncher as it tore through my reality and home. It reached a colossal white oak—easily 70-years-old and perhaps a sibling of the one I clutched—and swiftly sheared it at its waist. The oak’s great being fell, crushing the living floor below. An instinctual rush filled my gut and I screamed as loud as I ever have before. I immediately slumped in tears, dangling above my platform in despair of what this toxic pipeline would continue to do to our dying planet.
Meanwhile, the machine was approaching fast, carving a straight path toward our defense. It was only feet away now, ripping the earth and trees directly in front of the timber scaffolding without regard for our safety.
Oh my God.
My comrades stood firmly resilient on the scaffolding, despite the serious danger. I thought of the day before, when the same machine operator nearly crushed our friend with a fallen tree. I was scared for their lives. I wished for this insanity and devastation to stop. But the machine continued, against all logic and safety. It passed along the width of our timber scaffolding, not a tree’s height away, and dropped the dead to the north.
Our blockade defenders stood strong and recorded the wreckage as the machine cleared the rest of the pipeline easement to the North. It took only two hours for the entire swath of land before us to lay dead in TransCanada’s wake. Finally, the machine disappeared out of sight, the engine killed, and only the buzzing of chainsaws remained for the last few minutes of the workday.
I took me a while to gather myself, to come down from the tree and witness what had happened that day. A few others and I climbed over the corpses of our fallen friends. I picked some thrashed, edible life that lay limp in a discarded pile. There were now wandering creatures, anoles, aves, insects, and others, who, displaced by the devastation, were seeking new homes. I was emotionally drained, alienated from myself and snarled paths that I had walked before. The only hope I could grasp at that moment was that our defense would hold longer here, long enough to inspire others to link arms and fight against this disingenuous and malevolent corporate industry.
I am here writing from this place because I can’t go on seeing these homes and places destroyed for profit, but also because I can’t live and sleep knowing that it’s happening without resistance. I am writing because I think you care about these stories, and because I want you to. I not only want you to listen, but to send us your love, good intentions, and everything within your power and privilege. I want you to feel the swelling joy and deep despair of defending living lands and homes from annihilation and private profiteering. This means I also want to meet you here for our upcoming Direct Action Training Camp October 12th-14th. I want you to join our collective struggle against tar sands exploitation. Our movement needs you in order for these spaces of resistance to grow as we fight for a more habitable world and more just communities.
Courage, as our struggle continues,
Viridi.
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Richard Grumbine
September 30, 2012 at 11:59 pm (UTC -6) Link to this comment
So glad to hear you are staying strong. I hope for a good outcome. You ARE doing the right thing.
D M C
October 1, 2012 at 12:07 am (UTC -6) Link to this comment
Thank you for sharing and taking the time to write. Just living in the trees would be hard for me, so sorry you have to put up with such scarey, devastating actions above and below. You all are loved and appreciated more than you could imagine. I have sent some info to non involved people and they totally understand the Keystone, Embridge threat now, so know you are changing hearts and mind.
Doug Grandt
October 1, 2012 at 1:06 am (UTC -6) Link to this comment
I fear that our peaceful approach will be met with violence, so please keep your safety harnesses fastened tight … and if anybody is harmed, we should hold the leaders of the industry accountable. For me, Rex Tillerson has the power to call a stop to the carnage … and I wrote him a letter several weeks ago: http://bit.ly/RexThisIsIt-StopIt
I encourage everybody to write, type, scrawl … in pencil, ink or blood … write to Rex. Appeal to his sense of humanity, appeal to his love for his grandchildren, appeal to his ego, appeal to his legacy … he can call his colleagues together and lead the industry in a scheduled retirement and dismantling of the refineries, eliminating the need for pipelines to feed the Tyrannosaurus Rex-fineries. Extinct T Rex forever. Write to Rex.
Heather Snow
October 1, 2012 at 1:23 am (UTC -6) Link to this comment
Hello, to all you brave souls. I cry with you, I scream at their calus selves. Their complete disregard for life. When my arm heals after surgery, I want to join in somehow. Please don’t get killed! Don’t give them the satisfaction. My heart is with you!
Heather Snow
Lauren
October 1, 2012 at 2:28 am (UTC -6) Link to this comment
Please stay strong up there! We are with you!
Shanti
October 1, 2012 at 3:28 am (UTC -6) Link to this comment
Dear Viridi,
Thank you so much four your courage and awareness, your sacrifice and commitment. I am sending you love & peace. I deeply appreciate your gift of being friction against the machine. We in Occupy Muskegon are in Solidarity with you as we fight the corporate/government Earth destruction locally.
I surround you with the light & Love,
Shanti
Michael Fightmaster
October 1, 2012 at 3:31 am (UTC -6) Link to this comment
This is another example of corporate exercise of malevolent power.
George Michailow
October 1, 2012 at 4:03 am (UTC -6) Link to this comment
I am sorry there are so few of you on the frontlines . Thank you from the bottom of my heart on behalf of humanity and the planet that we must all work together to save.
Johan Steunenberg
October 1, 2012 at 8:38 am (UTC -6) Link to this comment
Wish you lots of strength. Love from Germany.
Barbara
October 1, 2012 at 9:27 am (UTC -6) Link to this comment
I am writing because I care just like you do and love our earth with its natural places with everything in my being. Everything. I am 63. I have seen this devastation all of my life, in Ohio where there were cancer clusters and where Lake Erie caught on fire.
But today, this is different. Today we all know the result, where this will end. Avatar gave us a glimpse. I am sad everyday I read entries like yours but am also filled with hope that a younger generation cares. Really cares about humanity, the trees, animals even insects. You care and that is so important for us all. You have become a symbol of how vulnerable, how fragile life is in the face of such insensitivity, recklessness, hate. Yes it is hate that you are facing with these people who don’t care about the people in the way, trees in the way.
We out here, we do care. You are a brave soul. I am so grateful and moved that you are up in that tree. Thank You.
Gay Hamilton
October 1, 2012 at 2:46 pm (UTC -6) Link to this comment
My heart breaks with yours. Thank you for being there from us who can’t be. I am doing what I can to help and will continue to do so and when I can be on the frontlines I will be. The gentleman who lost his vineyards this week broke my heart. This is all so senseless.
lina aziz
October 2, 2012 at 4:52 am (UTC -6) Link to this comment
Thank you for your amazing efforts and i hope that you are victorious in this battle. I wish i could be there to fight against these inhumane corporate desires and support the beauty that our world awards us. Alas i fight my battles from the home front.. one animal at a time (im a vet)… best of luck i will stay in touch and spread the word.
TexasKit
October 2, 2012 at 5:35 am (UTC -6) Link to this comment
Dear Viridi,
I can feel the depth of your pain and accept it as your gift to us here below. Your communication is being shared, and your well-being devoutly hoped for. Stay strong and know that we will be eternally grateful for your sacrifice. My work keeps me away, but I am with you in spirit every moment of the day and night. We must prevail over those who value only money and things and who violate the Mother Earth and all within her.
Blessings and grace on you, Viridi, our champion,
Katherine
Teets
October 3, 2012 at 9:15 am (UTC -6) Link to this comment
Thanks for writing. We are listening and paying attention to your struggle. You’re making history right now.
Tree Blockade Weathers an Intense Week (Day 8) » Tar Sands Blockade
October 1, 2012 at 3:42 pm (UTC -6) Link to this comment
[...] Day 7: From the Trees [...]
Tree Blockade Sustains an Entire Month of Resistance! » Tar Sands Blockade
October 24, 2012 at 4:09 am (UTC -6) Link to this comment
[...] Day 7 – Sunday, Sept. 30: A 36-hour rainfall stops, and a petition to stop violent acts on blockaders is signed by 73,000 people. [...]