This song, Bless This Land, is near and dear to my heart. It began as a prayer, a mantra,

“Bless this land, guard this land, love this land, heal this land.”

For weeks it spun through my head as a constant prayer, and my mind began improvising a melody over it. I was heavily involved in the anti-fracking movement in Colorado at that time, and protecting the earth is always in the forefront of my heart.

One day I was at the farmer’s market gathering signatures to help get a proposition on the November ballot. We were hoping to increase the distance between fracking wells and homes, schools, and other places where people are vulnerable to the toxicity that the wells emit. It’s something I felt very strongly about and it felt good to be doing my part.

I had only gathered a few signatures when I realized two teenage boys were following a short distance behind me, carrying signs that said, “Do you want your identity stolen? Then sign this petition!” I turned to talk with them for a bit, informing them that these were signatures for an important ballot measure and that people’s identities were perfectly safe. They smiled, said nothing, but seemed to understand. 

Assuming the matter was handled I continued my efforts, but the next time I turned around they were still there, following even closer than before. I asked them to stop following me, but they feigned innocence and replied, “What? We’re staying ten feet away.”

So I tried to educate them, they were only kids after all, and maybe they just didn’t know. I told them how important this ballot measure was, that fracking operations were making people sick, that the well-being of our environment was at risk, that we had a legal right to put this on the ballot so that voters could decide, but these kids didn’t care. To them it was all a big game and they were clearly enjoying it. That was when I realized that they were probably working for someone, most likely for the oil and gas industry.

I continued gathering signatures, but could feel their menacing energy constantly at my back and it was very uncomfortable. I was committed to my task and didn’t want to give up, so I decided to leave the farmer’s market and go gather signatures on the outdoor mall instead. But as I crossed the street the taller of them followed me. I turned again to confront him and told him to leave me alone, but smiling wryly he said, “What? I’m not doing anything! I’m just walking down the street!” Trying to reason with him and appeal to his sense of right and wrong was clearly getting me nowhere.

It was creepy, his feigning innocence while obviously enjoying intimidating me. He was tall enough to tower over me, probably a senior in high school with his first summer job, probably a bully in school. I could see it in his eyes that he felt he had the power on his side and that he had me right where he wanted me, running. I was rattled to the core.

I didn’t want to go back to my truck. The parking garage felt suddenly unsafe. So I ducked into a small import shop hoping he would eventually lose interest and move on to his next victim. But through the front window I could see him standing there, waiting for me. I asked the woman at the counter if there was a back door, but there wasn’t. I was stuck. 

Twenty minutes passed. From the back of the store, positioned behind a dense field of display cases, I was able to see the moment that he lost patience and decided to come in after me. As he moved through the narrow shop I darted out, timing my passage so that the display cases were between us, covering my escape. My heart pounding, I raced down the street, turned the corner onto the mall and ducked into another shop. Moments later I saw him pass in front of the window, his eyes searching all around, searching for me. I waited there until I was sure he was gone. Safe at last in my truck I sobbed my eyes out. 

When I got home the song Bless This Land poured effortlessly out of my soul. It poured as I prayed for this young man’s awakening, as I prayed he would gain a conscience. The words came as I prayed for the day he would realize that he was on the wrong side of history. I continue to pray that he and others like him will fall in love with nature and become passionate stewards of our precious earth. 

I later learned that he was indeed employed by one of the organizations sponsored by the oil and gas industry and that there were hundreds just like him intimidating signature gatherers all over the state. They were well organized and unscrupulous. They resorted to dirty tactics to do everything they could to keep the measure off the ballot. They failed to keep it off the November ballot, but oil and gas poured nearly $40 million dollars into a propaganda campaign to defeat proposition 112 and sadly they won. 

It breaks my heart to know that kids like him are so easily swayed. It’s their future we are fighting for.  It breaks my heart that we, the people, have to fight against giant corporations for our right to breathe healthy air, knowing that they have the government in their pocket. I am grateful to all of those who continue the fight, continue to try to wake the world up. I continue to do my part as best I can. This song is part of that effort. 

In this recording of the song you won’t hear the mantra. This is the covid-19 isolation version. The song is actually a bit of an ensemble piece requiring several singers to perform it fully. Someday soon!

Here is an article about others who experienced what I did: https://www.westword.com/news/proposition-112-proponents-say-oil-and-gas-industry-using-dirty-tricks-to-deceive-voters-10826733 

And here is a link to Colorado Rising, the organization that is continuing the fight to protect our land and our lives against the oil and gas industry: https://corising.org