An Unspoken Hunger

I found Yellowstone: The Erotics of Place quite intriguing, digging deep into our basic necessity for the natural environment around us. Instead of pointing to all the reasons that we need environment for survival, Williams points to its intrinsic value in the world and in our lives, and says that “it is a primal affair.” Our relationship, which we are “redefining”, us and the land, is something basic and emotional, rather than purely intellectual. The description of an “erotics of place,” a phrase used several times, is what truly points to the passionate, sensual, almost lustful tone created through words like “primal”, “intimacy”, “beauty, raw and sensual”, “sensitivity”, “embracing.” Not only are we drawn in by this personified, desirable environment we call nature, we see that there is a response, an echo. Williams uses repetition, short phrases, repeated sounds, and parallel structure to verbally represent an echo. And then Echo comes alive too: “When was the last time you played with Echo?” From the beginning Williams says that “we call its name—and the land calls back.” The piece ends with the exact same description as the beginning, except for two sentences. “Wolves howling into the Yellowstone,” and you can almost hear Echo howling back.

Winter Solstice, although written as a sort of reflection based on an experience and different in content, has a similar feel to that of Yellowstone. Yet the tone is one of faith and hope. In the beginning Williams is there at the Moab Slough “as an act of faith, believing that the sun has completed the southern end of its journey and is now contemplating its return toward life.” This belief seems based on that faith, or almost a wish. This faith compares to the faith of the Hopi, bringing their páhos and prayers, and points to our relationship with nature as a spiritual one. The idea that all things deep inside, desire love is brought to the surface and adds to the spiritual, hopeful tone and theme, and again, as in Yellowstone , Williams compares our relationship with nature to a physical intimacy that crave. A reference to two herons to little Buddhas further speaks of spiritual desire for wholeness and love. Those herons point to acting, not in fear or on wavering faith, but instead speak of true belief that the sun will rise again. And at the end Williams uses that same opening phrase (“as an act of faith, believing…”) but this time with a faith not just of wishes, but of hope. For me my god is not nature itself, but there is so much hope within it and I believe that this spiritual desire deep within us can only be fulfilled by the true God who created it all, and points to Himself in the trees and birds and marshes and sun and even in ourselves and our desire for wholeness.