Outside the Natural History Museum in London there is a petrified tree, unearthed in 1854 at Craigleith Quarry, Edinburgh.
The tree was excavated from rocks 330 million years old (the lower carboniferous period.) This was about the time the first reptiles appeared on earth and much of the land was covered in swampy forests. Mankind as we know it were a remote dot on a far horizon.
During the carboniferous period lived the largest insect known; a prehistoric dragonfly, Meganeura monyi, which had a wingspan of up to 30 inches. We know this because their fossilized bodies turn up in coal mines.
Dragonflies have a passive respiratory system. The oxygen in the air around them diffuses into their body tissues through little openings in their chitinous exoskeleton called tracheoles.
Carboniferous means carbon bearing and it was when the rich coal deposits that we are currently using to kill ourselves were laid down. The coal came from plants growing in these vast swampy forests. The growth of these ancient plants probably sucked much of the carbon dioxide out of the atmosphere and increased the amount of oxygen. According to geochemical models, oxygen levels are believed to have reached 35 percent as compared to 21 percent today.
A higher percentage of oxygen would have had dramatic consequences allowing insects such as dragonflies to grow very large.
A simple thing, such as more oxygen in the environment led to remarkable growth.
Improvements in an environment that we are immersed in continually (our lives) can likewise lead to such growth.
Unlike a dragonfly, we are not passively immersed in our environment, we don’t have to wait for environmental changes to occur before we can grow (Unfortunately, we seem remarkably competent at actually accelerating these changes.)
More than any other organism that has ever inhabited this planet, we have the capacity to create an enriched environment that promotes growth.
All we need do is think.
Back to the museum - it's truly amazing what sticks with you. Of all the things I took away from this visit, this is the most memorable, in my quest for enlightenment and understanding I found that some moron called Frank had carved his name on a 330 million year old tree.
There you have it. In one mindless act the immortal Frank spoke eloquently about the magnitude of mans vanity, his pettiness and his vanishingly small significance in the overall scheme of things. I'd love to know what he was thinking when he did it, because you now know what I was thinking when I read it.
Let's hear it for Frank!
(I'm trying to be faithful to the moment, and moron was not the actual word that sprang to mind. It was a remarkably pithy and vulgar noun. Anyone who lived in Britain at the time I grew up will know what this word is. If you ever read this Frank, you know exactly what I mean - it's right you).
Peter Yarrow 2007
