I read the Fraser Village Univ. article about Ecopoets in Canada, (see on the net) and have my simple little comment:-

Many words can be uttered, many ideas and yet the fullest idea of nature we, individually, can only understand and experience personally, subjectively. Our conscious selves.

Maybe poets are the instigators of this understanding of our nature in nature and if so, one would hope that for the ecology teachers use his medium both in words, music and dance, thereby involving the whole psyche of each person, the mental and the physical.

In this article I am bound to like the first man's work, Don McKay. as his mind is not intertwined, or does not appear to be, with the notion of a God.

Tim Lilburn I also can identify with.

Russell Thornton has a bit much of the visionary for me.

We aren't perfect, even nature(outside ourselves) isn't perfect; we have to work at knowing nature as much as nature will have to work at knowing us - the development of this earth from its beginnings has not stopped and both nature and we are part of this whole existence.

As on of the poets said, we have to find humility, this could be an attribute that nature already has, even though unwittingly she/he takes lives in earthquakes, volcanoes etc. It, nature, cannot defend itself from our onslaught and if it appears to do so this is only a figment of our imagination.

I learnt new words too:-
apophatic
chthonian
autochthonos

28th Sept 11.

This morning I looked out of the window from lying in bed and my mind said these words:-

The sun lifts the leaden sky, its lid...

We use the lilt of words, their music, to impress the expressions of nature in words
that with their utterance make music in our brains. calling attention to nature where
she speaks through the poet the sounds of life, the happenings of life, the joy of life
crystallises in our consciousness and makes us feel at one with our environment.

It is akin to the aesthete in meditation, in prayer, contemplation,
this moment in time described, not named like flowers,
robbed of their identity by translation into a given,
but a moment of attention so intensely heard, felt, smelt and seen,
a vision of suchness personified and thereby made into a reflection of our own beings,
understandable, explained, synthesised with our sense of existence, worth.

My quote above was not chosen carefully, it was the instigator of the rest of what I have written here,
the lid of grey lifted to reveal the day was what I saw in front of me far to the distant horizon,
where the sun seemed to be striving to lift the canopy of clouds as one might feel inclined
to use a metaphor here, lift a woolly ignorance into an enlightened knowledge.

Nordic cloud Ann.