Abstract

Within this essay, Ive integrated a spiritual relationship within my sense of

place. This specifically pertains to clouds and their ability to be slightly less than
tangible. There isnt really specific personal history behind my love for clouds, or
my fascination with them, all I know is that when there are clouds in the sky, Im
able to find a sense of comfort and security below their cover. This is best shown in
when Geo describes the clouds and his escape through them: His only way of
escape was through the clouds. Those impassive, white, transient creatures that
were so aloof to all of the chaos that rendered below on this forsaken piece of shit
land. It meant that a cool breeze would come and gently brush his sweaty hair back
from his now constantly feverish face.
My environmental ethic is mostly based off of Environmental Justice. You
can see this within Geos dispositional problem and need for relief from the dying
land around him. This is shown in the following quote: To Geo, the land was
ruined. Everyone knew it; his whole community knew it; yet everyone was in
denial, so much so that even the doctor had blamed his newly found tumor on
hereditary genes. But nobody in my family has ever had cancer. Geo wanted to
protest when he first heard the diagnosis. He wanted to tell the doctor that it was
the pollution from the coal plant. It was the air he breathed, and the water his
family was being forced to drink.


Sky-bound
By Emily Wieser

The sky emanated a brilliance that made him wrinkle his forehead and
squint. In an attempt to look up past the horizon, he found himself cupping his hand
over his brow as the white light from the sun slanted down upon the dry, crusted
earth around him. There was nothing but endless blue - which was faded to a pale
icy hue along the crested mountains, and that seemed, in his mind, to represent the
end of the earth. But that sky, how he detested its current state. There are no
clouds...no clouds...no clouds...

~

To Geo, the land was ruined. Everyone knew it; his whole community knew
it; yet everyone was in denial, so much so that even the doctor had blamed his newly
found tumor on hereditary genes. But nobody in my family has ever had cancer. Geo
wanted to protest when he first heard the diagnosis. He wanted to tell the doctor
that it was the pollution from the coal plant. It was the air he breathed, and the
water his family was being forced to drink. But he knew that if he did, the doctor
would just shake his head and give him a pitiful smile.
Sickness had become the norm within this community. Whereas the
employees at the plant received benefits such as health insurance, there was no
penchant for the poverty-stricken class of Native Americans who lived around the
plant and came directly in contact with the fumes and pollution. Since he started
regularly seeing a doctor at the nearest hospital, which was two hours away he
had become more aware of the plant workers presence within the community.
The coal plant first began construction when he was 5 years old. He used to
be able to remember the way life was before. When there was no white toxic vapor
ribboning out of those towering black stovepipes... He used to remember how the
stream that went by his house gurgled and sang out in the springtime. Soon after
construction started though, the creek turned from a rush to a trickle, and then
eventually stopped flowing all together. Now, in place of the lazy current of water
and furry green grass of the embankments, there was nothing but a large collection
of dusty tan pebbles and an occasional shriveled stick. He later found out that the
stream had been redirected to supply the cooling ponds.
The stream was a special exception, because now, he could barely retain any
memory of what the land was like before the plant. Was the sagebrush always so
brown? Didnt it used to be more of a pastel blue? No, maybe not... Has that dirt
road always been there? It seemed that lately, the land had become just as fickle as
his memory. As a child, he would run out across the dry, cold plains and watch the
black ravens dive and swirl above him in the winter winds. He would imagine that
those dark floating beings were his ancestors, disguised in black because they were
dead, and loud because they didnt want to be forgotten. It had made sense at the
time. Their wings would waver in the invisible force that inevitably allowed
passageway for all transient beings. As he grew older though, the black birds flight
became unsatisfactory. They were still dependent on the earth and the things
crawling on top of it. Their symbolism as beings of the sky weakened with every
year, and soon Geo had turned to things of greater elevation.
Anger. Thats all that Geo felt when he looked at the landscape. A
hopelessness that infuriated him to the point of paralyzing rage his face would
freeze, his breath would become silent, and a snowy pallor would spread over his
face and down his neck. He wanted to have faith that with the eventual restoration
of earth, his peoples health and strength would also return. That the peoples
culture would sprout up like the willows along the washes used to in the
springtime...yet he knew this wouldnt be the case. There was too much money
hidden in the hollows of this land... too much coal beneath their feet for anyone to
care about the fate of a poverty-stricken class comprised of Native Americans.

His only way of escape was through the clouds. Those impassive, white,
transient creatures that were so aloof to all of the chaos that rendered below on this
forsaken piece of shit land. It meant that a cool breeze would come and gently brush
his sweaty hair back from his now constantly feverish face. In the monsoon season,
dark storm clouds would roll forward from some far away distance and the heavy
smog would be pushed away. It was a relief that Geo needed; to not see that volatile
brown line smudged along the empty horizon.

Where there were clouds, there was peace of mind. Only three months after
his initial diagnosis, he was unable to walk. Now his only mode of moving was via
an old rusty wheelchair that his uncle had found in a junkyard ten miles away. It
would creak and groan when he gently lifted himself into it. It drove him crazy, the
incessant noise it would make even just a slight shift in balance from one leg to
another made the ancient contraption let out a cacophony of complaints. Yet, as his
movement became increasingly hindered, Geo still had the ability to look up at the
sky and imagine himself as a cloud. The heaviness in his body disappeared, as he
would transfix on the slow and gentle progress of a cloud. Even a small cumulus
would ease the constant discomfort of being bound to the earth in the way that he
was. Sick, and unable to walk on his own.
Geo would daydream about this embodiment constantly. He would imagine
himself as a thunderstorm: heavy, swollen, fast, and powerful. Another day he
would be a lenticular cloud: perched on the peak of a mountain as a smooth, disk-
shaped cloud. The point was that he would be above everything. Above his cancer,
above the destruction of the land, above the despair of his people...a completely
blissful detachment from the concerns of the earth below. Hed be able to float for
hundreds of miles over thousands of landscapes with complete indifference. The
gift of being a cloud is that you arent rooted to any one place. Instead youre
constantly moving; changing shape, color, texture, and size.

~

Geo was soon bedridden. In the past month, his terminal cancer had
preceded to the point where his muscles had started to deteriorate. His brown-
golden flesh had lost its color and had sunken into his face. His skin was rough from
the lack of moisture, and there was a sallowness to his entire appearance. His black
hair had fallen away about three weeks ago; now there was just stubble and a few
random strands of long, brittle strings.
Geo was a sharp, waif-like presence within every room, even in his wheel-
chair. Yet as the body ailed, the mind raced on at an incredible speed. There was
this fury that constantly festered and emanated from him. Being with him in a room
was painful, as his face would be set in a deadpanned glower. His mother flinched
when he talked. His resentment only built as his body declined further and further.
...Why me? Im sixteen years old and Im dying because of a coal plant. Because
some affluent man in Florida is getting a million dollar salary, because the government
is incapable of resisting big-corporation money or creating regulations... Blame
saturated into everything around him. The man in the diesel pickup that roared by
was at fault, the stove in Geos kitchen was to blame, and even the doctor who first
told him that his life expectancy was about four months was part of the problem. It
was everyones fault, and Geo was the victim. The worst part was that he could do
nothing about it, especially as a cancer-ridden teenage minority who couldnt even
take a piss without help from his mom. Such bullshit, its all such bullshit...


~

That inescapable roar traveled across the barren plains, rolling to a stop right
outside Geos bedroom window. Energy crawled around the room, buzzing in
corners, and making his blankets static with electricity. Another boom of thunder
arrived, crashing into the pane and making it rattle violently in its frame.

Mom! Geo mumbled. It took all of his strength to raise his voice to a volume that
penetrated the 2-inch wall that separated his bedroom from his mothers. There
was quick shuffle and the door opened.

Can you take me outside? It was a question that his mom had become used
to by now. His mom nodded, a flash of skepticism crossing her face as she turned
back out into the narrow hallway. A second later, she came back with the
wheelchair and pulled it up to his bed. A flash of light escaped into the darkening
room, and soon after the thunder followed once again. Geos mom hooked her arms
under his arms and slowly pulled him out of the bed, easing him into the wheel
chair. Geo tried to stifle the groan, knowing that his mother would immediately stop
if she knew that he was in pain.

As he rolled out into the front of the trailer, a curtain of sand blew up and
whipped him in the face, but Geo didnt notice. Instead, his head was craned up at
the ominous and darkening sky above. You could tell that the storm was violent
one, as the underbelly of it appeared to be twisted and lumped. Geo knew that this
indicated high, turbulent winds and possibly more than just a few cracks of lightning
and a little rain. In contrast though: off on the horizon was a sunset barely peeping
through the blue translucent rain curtains, creating a rippling golden effect. Light
rays shot through small openings, casting orange light on the edges of the twisted
fragmenting clouds. For a moment the lightning and thunder stopped, leaving only
the wind and its bursting momentum to create any sort of sound. In the far distance,
Geo could see the outline of the coal plant, but it seemed to be an incredibly
unsubstantial detail compared to the grandiosity of the spectacle playing out before
him. For once, he felt invigorated again. The ferociousness of the storm seemed to
match his waking mood. Large hailstones started to fall down from above, making
large pops where they landed. Geos mother quickly turned him back towards the
door and pushed him inside.

~

Returning to his bed with the sound of sleet slaughtering the thin metal roof
above him, Geo felt tranquil for once. He couldnt feel the sharp pain, or the
prominent springs from his mattress pressing into his back, and most importantly
there was no anguish. No denial in the fact that he was going to die. Instead he felt
light, and pleasantly sleepy. There was a floating sensation and soon enough, he
drifted off into a deep slumber.

~

He was dreaming -with that same impressionistic feeling hed had when he was
asleep- that he was high above everything else. He could see the coal plant, and he
could see the silver square of roof that was his and his moms. He slowly shifted farther
and farther away from two things that once seemed so prevalent in his life. The house
and the coal plant... now he was over a snow-capped mountain range, then a sea, and
then a red desert. Things he had never seen before, and a release that had never been
present as well were now flowing through him. Soon, his conscious had disappeared,
and all that was left was the cool embrace of moisture and ambivalence in where he
was going. It didnt matter though. He was going somewhere, and thats all that
mattered.

Rubric
TOTAL: _____/150
10
Complete
execution of the
standard
9
Strong execution
with some room
to improve
8
Meets the
standard
7
Approaching the
standard
5
Below the
standard
0
Standard is not
present in the
paper
Content

Sense of Place ____/10x 3.5____35
______ Do you show a clear definition of the sense of place that most
resonates with you?
______ Did you communicate which category of sense of place
(relationship and/or attachment) best represents your sense of place?

Environmental Ethic____/10 x3.5 _____/35
______ Do you express a clear understanding of your emerging
environmental ethic? This means that you reveal which environmental
ethic(s) is/are most important to you. You may be torn between different
ethics, but you must express how you are grappling with that conflict or
how you resolve it.


Cohesiveness/Integration_____/10x 2.5______/25
______ Do you integrate your sense of place, environmental ethic and/or
understanding of our energy needs to shape and express your perspective?
______ Are you making connections between your ideas for your reader?
______ Do your ideas and paragraphs logically flow in a way that makes
sense?

Descriptive Language & Elements of Nature Writing______/10 x2.5 ___ /25
______Do you use elements of the Grand Style to SHOW your place to the reader?
Formatting Guidelines
(Must be met for me to
accept your draft!)
Title: Give your essay a
creative title! Center it at
the top of your essay.
Abstract: Include this
beneath the title
Artist Statement: If you
write a poem or short
story.
Name: Write your name
underneath the title.
Font: Size 12
Word Length: 1,500-
3,00 words

(at least two of the following are present: metaphor, simile, analogy, alliteration,
assonance,
onomatopoeia, sensory images like sight, taste, touch, sound, smell)

Writing Mechanics
Sentence Craft ___/10
______ Are you writing sentences that are grammatically correct?
______ Is the meaning of your sentences clear and easy to follow?
______ Do you use simple and complex sentences for a varied effect?
______ Did you streamline your writing to be concise and descriptive? (avoid non-
descriptive word choice like, the tree is extremely tall, I really love ice cream)

Proofreading_____/10
______ Are there errors in your paper that spellcheck could catch?
______ Did you carefully read through your paper for proofreading errors