[The following is the Conclusion to my book, Be a Hobbit, Save the Earth. Why would I give you the ‘end of the story’? Because it is my vision for a better world, and I think that having seen that vision, you might want to know how I think we can get there. It is the target, if you will, the dream I have of a world in balance with itself, a world devoid of Fear Itself. It is my life’s mission to see ti come to fruition, and I will work tirelessly until it does, or until my time on this planet is concluded.]
The moment is dire.
The problems we face are daunting indeed. Taker culture has ravaged Mother Nature to the point where she might just decide that we aren’t needed anymore.
If we choose to continue on this path, a century from now there may not be any or many of us left. Be careful, Frodo, when you step out on the road. Choose that road with care.
Some roads lead to Lothlórien, others to Mordor. We are on the latter.
Our air is becoming a poisonous fume. Our rivers, lakes, and oceans gleam with the sheen of oil; continents of plastic debris are floating on their surface. People murder each other over resources and religion, driven by Fear, Ignorance, Want, and Greed.
Guiltiest of all are the massive corporations and banks who use debt to enslave millions, nay, billions to pay back loans conjured from thin air in the first place, like some Sarumanic slight of hand. Fellow human beings lose their homes, their jobs and, many times, their lives in the name of Smaug’s hoard: money to line the pockets of the richest, entitled of the species who barely note the increase to their own overburdened treasure hoards.
To what purpose do they employ it?
They enlist it to bribe politicians around the world to look the other way while they take more and more and more from the Earth and from the less fortunate of their own species.
In their wake are the smoking ruins of Mordor: wastelands where there were forests, deserts where there were fields, gurgling sludge where there once was a crystal stream, oil where there was water, heat where there were cooling breezes, garbage in place of green pasture, and silence where once the singing of birds.
Why do they do this? Why do WE do this?
Because we are infected with a disease: the toxic belief that the planet and all of its resources are ours to do with as we will. It belongs to us, like some kind of mongrel dog that we can feed when it suits us, beat when it barks, or leave out in the yard chained to a rotting tree stump till we need something from it.
This is how we treat our planet. This is how we tend The Garden while expecting it to feed our ravenous hunger.
Those of us who hold onto this belief, and many of us who should know better, grasp our preciousss with whitening knuckles as our fingers grow hot then cold with avarice and apathy. Like Frodo perched at the Crack of Doom we cannot drop it into the abyss whence it came. Even those of us who know that we hold this ring, find it nearly impossible to relinquish it to the flames.
Most of our culture have forgotten, eons ago, that such a Ring ever existed, though its evidence is all around in the blackened ruin of our groaning planet.
Drop the Ring, Frodo! Do it now. Wait not for Gollum to sever it from your hand. “Take off your golden ring! Your hand’s more fair without it. Come back! Leave your game…Tom must teach you the right road, and keep your feet from wandering.”
Drop it into the fire. Walk out of the cave. Heed not the shadows on the wall; they are the shades of the puppeteer only. They are not real. They are Sauron’s smoke and mirrors, Saruman’s velvet lies, a pale reflection of the light you will find outside. Frodo, come forth! Step into the light of the Sun; walk into the light of the Shire! Come home. You are needed!
There is work to be done.
Long have the Sarumans of our world ravaged the homestead. Let us undo their poisonous handiwork. Let us rebuild our communities, replant our gardens, our Party Trees, and grow Shires. Let’s be Hobbits again and not far-wandering adventurers.
Plant the seeds of peace and harmony. Let’s work together to clean up the mess we’ve made and return Shireness and greenness to the Earth.
Let’s throw a party! Let’s celebrate the destruction of the Ring by forming renewed connections with our Shire and with Nature! Let’s walk the paths of the Old Forest, Fangorn and Mirkwood. Let’s renew our friendship with Treebeard, Bombadil and Old Man Willow.
Bring not axes and fire; bring only Hobbit feet and Hobbit senses. Feel the earth in your toes, smell the forest breath, hear it speak and sing, taste the air upon your tongue and see the roots that bind all living things together as one.
We are not separate from the willow. We are not severed from the stream. We are the rain. We are the trees. We are the birds who sing in its branches. We are the streaming beams of light through its leaves, dancing on the forest floor with billions of teeming, waltzing neighbors.
We are Nature. We do not rule. Shall we rule ourselves? Folly! We control nothing! We rule no one! We dance with the Ents, or we die with the orcs. Be not an orc. Be not a Wraith to the Ring. Be a Hobbit. Save the Earth.