,January 25, 2023 15:00 Pacific Time from the slopes of Mt. Teneriffe, Washington.

 

The geographic anchor, the stone dropped into the water. The slope of the Cascade Mountains facing X̌ʷəlč (Colonized name: the Salish Sea).

 

I started to the west, on the trail up q'əlpc' (Colonized name: Mt. Si), and about a mile in, heard a pileated woodpecker calling from somewhere in the canopy of Douglas fir, and western and mountain hemlock. A little later I veered east onto the Talus Loop trail and crossed to the Mt. Teneriffe trail. I started back north, on long switchbacks.

 

At 15:00 PT I stopped. There was snow on the ground and I heard crackling.

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A group of birds called high up in the canopy, certainly some kinglets, probably golden crowned. Near me: sword ferns, some hemlock species, salal, mosses and lichen. I heard flowing nearby, and saw, heard, felt other beings, mammals, amphibians. Not a lot of reptiles, perhaps.

 

I knew there was an abundance of microorganisms and invertebrates around me and under me, knew that I did not know their names but felt them.

 

I started recording so I could transcribe what I said. (It felt emergent when I said it, probably because there were no other humans. In the context of this webpage, without the pauses,  it seems to change shape. I did, by the way, laugh a bit).

 

Hello, can you hear me? I asked

 

Including the elk?

 

I apologize for trespassing into your winter range.

 

I said:

I want to express my gratitude to the Coast Salish People, including the sdukʷalbixʷ (Snoqualmie Tribe), for your relationship since time immemorial to this land and these beings.

 

As a person in a white body, I recognize that I am, and will always be, an occupier when I come into a place like this, until that point in the future, that point in the past, when the network tendrils of white supremacy, colonialism and imperialism no longer claim dominion.

 

I recognize that my gratitude is a moment of paying attention but is not repair. I reaffirm my intention to work, learn, continue towards that point, moment, space, time, sense that white supremacy and the colonial mindset no longer perpetuate violence upon bodies and the earth.

 

No one human came down the trail. No one human came up the trail.

 

I heard a flutter of some bird. I turned to an old stump, decayed snag

stump, once tree, now moss, and lichen, and the emergent hemlock

branch.

 

I asked, please help me hold all of the names of the species and all of

the artist participants.

 

I said, I have the paper here.

 

I showed the paper to the very old being and the beings

living on that being.

 

I read the names of the species as they are called on the U. S. Federal documents, and the groups of species. And I read the artists' names:

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Guam broadbill

Shaylin Salas

Mariana mallard

Sarah Falkner

Dusky seaside sparrow

Sandra Simonds

Santa Barbara song sparrow

Eleni Sikelianos

Sampson's pearlymussel

Eli Nixon

Blue pike

Karin Bolender

All the Species and Subspecies

Adriene Jenik

Longjaw cisco

Sophie Strand

Tecopa pupfish

Paul Hlava Ceballos

Ivory-billed woodpecker

Alina Stefanescu

Eastern puma

Anne de Marcken

Caribbean monk seal

Alexis Pauline Gumbs

All the Fish

Lou Florez

Kauai akialoa

Kimberly Quinogue Andrews

Kaui nukupuu

Jessica Carpenter

Who is Not Here

Joanna Lilley

Kamao

Vidhu Aggarwal

Bridled white eye

Alixa Garcia

Maui akepa

Donovan Kūhiō Colleps

Maui nukupuu

Mina Gorji

Molokai creeper

Lyz Soto

Po'ouli

Kalilinoe Detwiler

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I stood.

 

Launched as a stone into sea gabbro, igneous. Teneriffe.  May the ripples carry us.

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Jennifer Calkins

Developer/Curator

Delisted 2023

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Jenn

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