How Our Debts Maintain Relationships

Acknowledging our debts to the land

What is your relationship to debt? If you’re anything like me, the relationship is something akin to my relationship to an itchy sweater–a slightly panicky, “get it off, get it off!” I paid back my medical school loans, which were the size of a small mortgage, in under five years. In financial realms, this is often the sensible thing to do unless interest rates are quite low. Delaying repayment of loans leads to financial calamity. However, my recent conversation with Stephanie Mackay, which I will share next week, has me thinking of debt in a different way and questioning my debt-phobic ways.

Even though both my heart and my rational mind understand that our existence on this earth is dependent upon a series of debts we could never hope to repay, when Stephanie mentioned the debts we owe to the land, waters, plants, animals, etc. my initial reaction was, “How do I get square?” Not owing anyone anything was my default goal. Returning to “even”, holding no obligations was the responsible thing to do.

As Stephanie gently and kindly reminded me, there is no possible way to repay my debt to the earth. Even if there were, repaying it is not what is best for us, nor is it what the earth desires from us. When the debt ends, the relationship ends. When the debt is US Dollars from Granite State Bank, the end of that relationship feels liberatory. When the debt is the stardust and water that combine to give a soul material heft, the end of that relationship is disorienting and destructive.

Last week, I had an exchange with a friend that reminded me how debts build relationships. A friend called for medical advice. At the end of the call, he offered to send over a gift card. We began the awkward exchange:

“You really don’t have to…”

“Ok, but I’m going to…”

Remembering the iron bracelet I lost in the yard, I asked, “You wouldn’t happen to have a metal detector I can borrow?”

“No, but I have a huge magnet.”

I’m not sure if it was the magnet itself or just having to hold it close to the ground, but I found the bracelet in under two minutes.

When you pay cash, the transaction is complete. This other way of acknowledging a gift not only keeps the gifts flowing, but, at least in this scenario, leaves each person feeling like they got the better end of the deal. They part with something that was easy to give and received something that was greatly valued in return.

In our conversation, Stephanie noted that the goal is not to repay our debt, but to acknowledge it. You can see an analog in families. There are some seasons of life where it is not possible for things to be “even”. Pregnancy and the first year of parenting come to mind. Mammalian physiology means that pregnancy and breastfeeding fall disproportionately, if not exclusively, on mothers in modern life. Though the levels of sacrifice cannot be balanced, that does not mean that the sacrifice and work can go unrecognized without damaging the health of the relationship.

Resentment festers when the physical, emotional, and spiritual work of new motherhood isn’t acknowledged, honored, and celebrated, and those around a new mother don’t ease the load whenever possible. Sometimes what is needed to acknowledge the debt is practical: cook a meal, do the laundry, hold the baby so she can shower. It is also so for the earth: plant seeds on bare ground, pick up litter along a stream, fill the bird feeders. But sometimes what is needed is beauty: braided hair, perfumed oils, a song, a poem, a bouquet of flowers. And that is what the earth longs for too. The wonderful thing is that often the ways we acknowledge the gifts of the land feed us too. They are the great sources of joy in human life, so even our gifts to the earth sustain us as well.

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I’d like to leave you with a few poem-ish things. Simple attention and noticing can become a form of devotion. These are a bit rough around the edges, but I hope they will stir your attention. How are you feeding the holy and acknowledging our debts to the earth?

The tiny toothpick feet of the up-turned junco were tucked under the clematis vine. Oak leaves huddle for shelter under the pergola. 
An inexplicably still mouse lay belly up at the edge of the asphalt, 
no talon or tire tread to explain the end. 

Suddenly, I know 
We are meant to touch death with our hands, 
that is how we know it is true, 
that our beloved hasn’t abandoned us. 

Several dozen cedar waxwings dart 
from the blaze of tamaracks 
to the sweetness of crab apples

Only the occasional peep shared amongst them. 
The hum of trucks rises from the highway below. 
A quorum of slugs leaving their shimmery artistry across the driveway. 

Suddenly, I understand, 
You don’t have to try every fruit to find the sweetest one. 
You can follow the waxwings, who already know the way.