Lough Derg: A Bird's-Eye View of the River Shannon

Hello, Friends,

I think I've made it fairly clear (!) that I'm championing the saving of Ireland's River Shannon.  But from what? 

From Dublin's plans to pump mega-amounts of water from the River Shannon into Dublin City.  This could prove to be an environmental disaster for the River Shannon and all the beauty, fishing, boating, tourism, art, and folklore that surrounds her.  

Toward the end of encouraging others to help Ireland preserve the Shannon (see page from sidebar:  The Issue - Chronology - Resources),  I found a most unique video to share with you.  To my eye, it's really something special.  It's got a personality all its own.  As I watched, I could just feel the expanse of the water all around me, as though I were right there in the water.  Breathtaking views!

Nature lovers, please take note!  This is the Shannon lake, Lough Derg, from which Dublin seeks to extract 350 million liters of water per day:

 
Please link this page to others!

Thank you, and . . .

Cheers!

~ Carolyn 

Attention: Environmentalists, Hydrologists, and All Who Love Things "Green"

Hello, Friends,

The clock is ticking for both the River Shannon and my Internet connection.

Operating under the lash of the impending "monster" storm system, Sandy, I am eager to put in an effective word on behalf of those who have made, for several years, efforts to preserve, undisturbed, Ireland's rich natural heritage in the River Shannon.

Lacking time, I fear, with these heavy winds increasingly coming upon us, I am posting a link for your careful scrutiny.  This link (with video) exposes and explains the critical details far, far better than I ever could.  Please put the word out to anyone you know who can alert others to help preserve this precious river:

"Beware Bord na Mona and Dublin City Council bearing gifts" - River Shannon Protection Alliance, 2007

Thank you, friends, for tuning in.  I must sign off and post this, as my lights and screen are repeatedly flickering.

Cheers!

~ Carolyn 

Revised 6/2/14

Embracing the Endangered River Shannon

Hello, Friends,

It's one thing to talk about "saving a river."  It's quite another thing to see it, to embrace its unique beauties, its pathways, the special places to which it leads.  For those who are new to this topic, please see (from sidebar):  The Issue - Chronology - Resources.

My last discussion about the endangered River Shannon revolved around the topic of beauty.  I will follow up that piece with this nicely arranged video that I found on YouTube (with appreciation to those who recorded and uploaded it).  Together, we can become acquainted with a major river, another country's lifeblood, which is in danger of being largely dried up by man-made intervention.

If we are far away, why should we care?  Well, first of all, the River Shannon is an integral part of Ireland's cultural history and heritage, an ongoing source of fishing, boating, all-around tourist attraction, and native livelihood -- not to mention a living, fertile source of inspiration to poets, artists, and musicians everywhere.  When it comes my time to visit this lovely country of green, I, for one, want the River Shannon to be there in all her glory.

So, let's take a look!

 
I hope you enjoy the video as much as I already have. :)

Cheers!

~ Carolyn

Who Needs Beauty?

I recently wrote the following thoughts in a letter regarding the proposed large-scale abstraction of water from the River Shannon:

". . . To gut a picturesque river is to take something from the heart of the people, to demoralize them -- even if unintentionally.  That, in turn, can have a profound effect on family life and economics."

Is beauty a small thing?

I have found, through the rigors and deprivations imposed by chemical sensitivity, that the loss of beauty in one's surroundings can, itself, be debilitating.  Others have lost beauty in their surroundings as a result of poverty, natural disasters, war, and other illnesses and injuries.  Whichever way it occurs, the loss of beauty brings on visual gloom.  Life goes spare and bare.  You can tell yourself a million times a day that mere visuals shouldn't get under your skin this way, that this or that task must get done no matter what -- but how do you honestly feel while doing it?  Do you feel cast down, thoroughly engulfed by a sense of visual "greyness" or hopelessness, and drained?

Or consider, for example, an old section of your hometown that you used to love as a child, perhaps once filled with abundant grass, flowing river, and thriving trees.  Imagine that a slime-filled reservoir or dried-up riverbed now disfigures that lost haven of sweetness . . . . .

How would it feel to look at that, remembering the lushness of creation that once existed so peacefully there under the skies?

Speaking for myself, such a sight would make (and has made) me queasy in the depths.  Something would forever after feel very wrong, out of joint, and exceedingly dismal -- were that my hometown.  (And, in fact, my hometown has changed in some sad ways.)  If I were forced by circumstance to remain living there, something in my life would be irrevocably altered.  I would find myself battling a reflexive sinking of the spirit at every turn, plus a grim sensation of things slipping away in a more dramatic, global, and rapid fashion than they would have at the steadier pace of nature alone.

When we invade the peaceful workings of nature in extensive, sudden, and perhaps unnecessary ways, we disrupt time -- our own time.  We put ourselves on a new clock.  We then find ourselves racing against this man-driven clock, accelerating our own demise.  Man's clock is erratic and unpredictable, subject to whims and appetites, supply and demand, greed and need, and money.

The more spiritually aggressive drives of man often dispense with beauty and the purity of nature as though they were of no consequence beside the things that "really" matter.  They dispense with the purity of nature because they already do not mind infiltrating their fellow man with innumerable toxins and pollutants.  Humans have become acceptable reservoirs for mass-produced and mass-distributed toxins.

Beauty?  Who has time for beauty?  Only artists and dreamers? 

Perhaps.  But if they didn't bother to preserve beauty, each in his own way, humanity would go mad.

It's very difficult to earn a living when one must white-knuckle one's way through a persistent sense of futility and decay.  It's very difficult to inspire one's family in spiritually uplifting and creative ways when one's physical surroundings appear increasingly devastated.

The destruction of beauty takes a more severe toll on us than we might imagine. 

Far from being a frivolous concern, beauty is one of our basic human needs.  It helps kindle that fire deep down in our souls that will fuel us during long nights and tough times.  It hones our sensibilities in periods of desperation and need, reminding us of the human charity which must always come first.  It puts our minds on a higher plane of awareness and sensitivity; so that, when a practical solution is called for, our concerns will already be at that higher level and we will be much more likely to handle our resources with care.

Who needs beauty?

We all do.

Wishing you havens of loveliness --

Cheers!

~ Carolyn

Has Anyone Asked the Fish?

Hello, Friends,

I'm sorry for the long delay in posting!  I've been giving myself a crash course in aquatic ecosystems.  The matter of the endangered River Shannon in Ireland (see sidebar for further information) came to my attention, and I felt moved to join my voice with those who seek to protect it.  

Why?  Because toxic injury has given me an extra sensitivity toward the undervalued assets of nature and toward the endangerment of both human health and nature.  Time and again, I've witnessed how very much better things are for my own health when nature is assisted as opposed to invaded.  Having been forced to give up my arsenal of chemical "protection" years ago, I've developed a keen appreciation of nature just as she is, for she must now assist me in all the ways I'd dismissed her before.  Why would I have needed nature's help, before, when I could always whip out my handy chemical "purifiers," antibiotics, and whatnot?

And, yes -- my water was "pure," too.  Nicely chlorinated -- as were all the pools I enjoyed for at least four hours a day, every possible clear day, in the summers.  Everything was chemically clean, clean, clean beyond inspection.

Until "clean" began to burn.  It began to cook my eyes, my face, my nose, my central nervous system, my skin, my insides.  Subjected to a heavily chlorinated water supply, I developed recurring kidney irritation.  Back to the doctor and back to the doctor I went -- until I got wise.  I began to brew dandelion tea and corn-silk tea all day and drank it up.  I bought bottled water -- to drink and to cook with -- and took the most perfunctory of showers.  The kidney trouble cleared up like magic.

  

Chemical water disinfection, therefore, had made me sick.  My personal ecosystem had been both disturbed and damaged.  Some effects were temporary; some accumulated and became permanent.

Apply this perspective, now, to any miscellaneous river whose water is to be diverted, in large portion, to a man-made reservoir for "treatment."  This is where the handy disinfectants come in:  algaecides, chlorine . . . . .  Whenever a toxic algal bloom erupts in the water, they can just hammer it with more algaecides -- and they might have to do that many, many times.  Then, there is the matter of which particular algaecides will be used.  Some, apparently, are even worse than others and distinctly ominous for human health.  

At the other end of this "treatment" are people who will drink that water, cook with it, clean with it, launder with it, shower with it, and bathe in it.

When water is diverted from a river in gigantic amounts, the harmonious flow of the river is disturbed, the level of the water can go down, and the temperature of the water can rise.  These factors can increase the likelihood and extent of toxic algal bloom, which would then necessitate an increase in the chemical "treatment" of said water.  This, in turn, would subject the human recipients of that water to any unforeseen byproducts of the chemical arsenal employed to provide them with "safe" water -- not to mention any lingering toxic algal blooms formed in resistance to the "treatment."  If, for recreational purposes, people are using a reservoir which is subject to frequent harmful algal blooms, their health can be endangered by the blooms.

Of course, everything is to be monitored and controlled.  That's what they always say.  Why, then, are people increasingly becoming sick, as I did, from such things as chlorinated water?  The water systems are monitored and controlled.  These people should not be reacting to chlorine in their water.

But they are.

If there is one thing I've learned from having to manage the reverberating aftereffects of toxic injury, it's this:  Invasion of any natural system -- whether it be a person or a river -- should always be the tactic of last resort, decided upon only after all other organic, conservative measures have been exhausted.  Man can do as he wishes, but if he makes a mistake which irreparably damages nature, nature will simply continue on that damaged track -- at which point many of those people who could not be bothered to care, before, will begin to notice.  And nature will forge on, obediently following that damaged track. 

When nature is put on a new track, she simply follows it with all of her -- nature.    

Hence, the track must be both safe and sound.  In the case of a river, perhaps the fish are the best indicators of the river's well-being and stamina.  Fish are to the river, it seems, what we chemically sensitive "canaries" are to the "coal mine."

Wishing you safe and abundant water and respite from the chemicals in your midst --

Cheers!

~ Carolyn