Oil and Monks Don't Mix! (Part 3 of 3)

Soon, drilling and fracking rigs were running up andthe property and noticed that everything in it, all
down the newly cut-in roads, popping in wellsthe frogs and fish and water spiders, were dead.
every couple of acres. Janet and I helped whereThe salt water had leaked out of the holding pond
we could, but were more interested in digging upand contaminated the ground water, coloring it a
a large plot of ground by the trailer for the onetelltale red. The land was beginning to erode as
hundred tomato plants we were nursing in theirwell, with many of the trees now gone, and the
little boxes. We gathered red mulch from insidepump jacks were rusting away. Our little hill was
rotting logs in the forest, loaded it on our littlenot the same.
three-wheeler's trailer, and used it as fertilizer.Janet and I became disheartened. Things that
The first three wells went in within one hundredinitially endeared us to the property were
yards of each other close to the mobile home.changing, as all things do, and sadness was
Only later did we learn that pump jacks are giantcreeping in. I found myself becoming emotional
lightening rods! And we were in for it since wequite often, feeling as if I was standing on a
lived on a hill! Although lightening never hit thetarmac tearfully waving goodbye to a dear friend
trailer, it regularly hit the pump jacks next to it,that I knew I would never see again. Perhaps this
which made the severe storms that frequentwas a sign that my practice was deepening. I
Northwest Pennsylvania interesting to say thewasn't sure, and although the pain was
least.melancholy, it was painful nonetheless. Now I
Once a well was drilled, steel pipe casing was rununderstood why I had always been afraid to
down the hole and then pressure was introducedattach to things too tightly; it just hurts too much
by the huge fracking rigs, shattering the rockto let them go. But go they must, as all things
strata below, and allowing the oil mixed with saltseem to do in time.
water to seep from the formations where itWhenever Janet and I surrendered supports that
would be subsequently pumped to the surface.we relied upon, we usually found ourselves
Rods with seals were lowered into the casing tonavigating through turbulent waters. Giving up
act as a pump, and pump jacks were built aboveboth the heaven we had counted on so
the well (looking like giant grasshoppers), to movedesperately, and the world as well, was difficult
the rods up and down.without feeling a crushing loss. This always left us
After a well was outfitted, underground plasticno foothold, but maybe this spiritual poverty was
piping and electrical lines were run. The piping ranexactly what we needed in order to slide down
from the wells to large storage tanks in thethat mountain we had created and have been
middle of the property where the oil and saltstruggling to climb. If need be, we were more
water was separated. The oil was stored in thethan willing to live in both the poverties - material
tanks until a local distributor picked it up, whileand spiritual.
next to the tanks a large, deep pit was dug andThis was a dark time for me. I was restless and
sealed with plastic sheeting to hold the salt waterbegan to doubt myself; perhaps my whole life had
until it could evaporate.been for naught. Life had lost its appeal and I was
The salt water was produced at a greaterdepressed, and even though I always had Janet, I
volume than I expected, however, and I had abegan to feel alone and abandoned. It was if I
bad feeling about it. As the wells were completed,was waiting for something . . . and there was
my job was to pump them making sure thatnothing I could do, except wait.
each well was pumping twice a day for theA shot rings out, a deer falls, the universe is
appropriate amount of time so that it wouldn'tdiminished. After being exposed to two hunting
pump dry. This involved all kinds of electrical andseasons on the hill, it was time to leave, and like
mechanical maintenance and repairs on pumptwo rivulets of rain running into a stream that is
jacks that were regularly damaged by lightening.happily returning to its Source, we ended up at
Janets brother-in-law was already in the processthe Zen Center in San Francisco. I thought that I
of drilling more wells in other fields, but when thehad conquered any meditation related illnesses
price of oil dropped and legislators ended the cozythat developed at the Abbey, and threw myself
tax shelters connected to oil wells, it wasn't longinto the practice, but I was about to learn that
before the oil boom . . . went bust.what I thought was of little consequence.
One day I looked at the creek that ran through