Here, it takes a long time for the sun to rise after the first intimations of dawn. Time for meditation, quiet study, a walk around the pond — preparation for the day.

From the canyon we hear the whistle of the commuter train and already a steady murmur of traffic from the city downstream (when there is a stream). Sometimes, overhead, the flapping of a raven's wings, an urgent message from the coyotes, or the soft whoosh as a flock of red-winged blackbirds rises from the cattails to circle the pond.

Perhaps one day these natural sounds I revel in will no longer compete with the roar of engines. After the oil runs out will there be any bees still buzzing, any butterflies or wild flowers to brighten our days? Will we zip around in solar-powered electric cars through a scorched landscape, or be on our knees digging up roots and grubs? Will we live and grow our food in glass bubbles, hearing only the wind scouring the desert outside? Or will there still be a forest where we can search for nuts?

An expanding population and an economy based on ever-increasing consumption cannot continue indefinitely on a planet with finite resources. Some are already shouting, "The emperor has no clothes!" but most of us refuse to see the truth.

Divorced from nature, encapsulated in cars and buildings, we focus on electronic screens and printed symbols, preferring to communicate with technology rather than face to face. We believe what the corporate-controlled mass media choose to tell us. We don't want to see how our habits (what we eat, what vehicles we use, how we spend our money) are destroying our home.

I want to believe that we will change our ways in time, before the earth is totally "trashed." I want to believe that we will live in a less noisy, less frantic and still beautiful world.

We will once again, as hunters and gatherers, become acutely aware of our total dependence on nature. We will become intimately familiar with each square yard of our territory — the lichen-covered rocks, anthills, rabbits' burrows and birds' nests. We will immerse ourselves in the cycles of sun and moon, finding sustenance, solace and inspiration in the piñon trees and Ponderosa pines.

Water will become more precious when we have to carry it from the stream. Gratitude will replace greed. We will re-establish harmony with the natural world and its rhythms, instead of trying to control them, and all will be in balance once again.

When did greed begin? When did we start taking more than we need and hoarding rather than sharing? When did we divide ourselves into the overfed and the undernourished? When did we begin doing violence to our brothers and sisters, as well as to the animals, the forests, and the earth?

Ten thousand years ago the domestication of plants and animals and the beginning of agriculture marked a radical change for humans after millions of years of living lightly on the earth. "Progress" and population growth have accelerated rapidly and now we are at the point of no return. Will we continue toward total destruction of life as we know it, or turn back to our roots?

If we choose a simpler way of life that respects the earth, will the violence gradually leach out of our psyches? How long will it take to restore harmony in human society and in our souls? It takes a long time for the sun to rise after the first intimations of dawn.

Mary Ray Cate is an artist who lives in the Santa Fe River canyon.