This is the story of a girl
Who cried a river and drowned the whole world
And while she looks so sad in photographs
I absolutely love her
When she smiles

How many days in a year
She woke up with hope but she only found tears
and I can be so insincere,
Making the promises never for real
As long as she stands there waiting
Wearing the holes in the soles of her shoes
How many days disappear?
When you look in the mirror so how do you choose?

Three Doors Down, Story of a Girl

This morning I spent some time listening to an interview with Doug Elliott. Doug is a naturalist and professional storyteller, and he was speaking about how to use and develop story in the context of nature-based education.

It was a great interview on all different levels. They covered a number of different topics and interspersed throughout were Doug’s stories and anecdotes. If you have half an hour to spend, I highly recommend checking it out.

A couple of things struck me. The first was on the negative side. Brother Wolf (the host) asked Doug how people that do not have exposure to nature do… whatever. So wait. How does one not have exposure to nature? It is the air we breathe, the food we eat, it is, quite literally, all around us whether deep in the barrio or on the side of a mountain. Walking down a city street it takes a certain perpetuated blindness to not see the weeds pushing up between the blocks of cement in the sidewalk, the crow or pigeon feeding by the roadside, the insects, rats, and raccoons feeding on human detritus. Granted, many people have learned this blindness, but that simply means that they need a little help to see once more. If they are willing to leave the city to “find nature” then first they should be reminded that they don’t need to leave the city to find “nature.”

Doug did not address the question this way. He spoke instead about how simple a day trip into the countryside can be, of how many people take the time to do so and how rewarding it can be for them. All true, but perpetuating the myth that nature is other.

The more important thing I took out of the article relates to story creation. They discuss how heavily environmental and nature education relies on Native American stories and the problems inherent to this. A few months ago, I began thinking about creating stories around the native plants in my area. Stories that would help explain and remind of their appearance, their properties, their uses and so forth. Jason and Giuli had done this years ago with some of their native plants. They created mythological tales, with anthropomorphised characters, and human drama. Its a brilliant memory technique and it helps in re-integrating oral techniques and skills back into a community.

Listening to Doug’s responses, however, I realized that this was a hollow representation of what we really need. What we need, if we are to re-embrace orality, is true stories. The stories of how we (I) first discovered a plant, how I learned more about it, the mistakes I made and the lessons I learned. Stories do not need to be mythological. But they do need to be true. Mind, I am not dismissing native mythological tales… because these tales developed in concert with the cultures they are a part of: they are true. No one sat down and created them of whole cloth, as Jason and Guili did, or as I had envisioned myself doing.

More importantly, I realized that by telling true stories, however hum drum they may seem to us – we are setting down the foundations that will lead to creating new culture(s). So often we want to jump right to the point of complete culture, but that can only be a cheap imitation of the real thing. Real culture: culture with depth and complexity and resilience can only come about through generations of experience. So I think we need to embrace taking those first steps, allow those first steps to be simple — hum drum, even –, and always, always true. (True does not mean without embellishment, it means based upon our real life experiences, meaningful in context of our real lives, and useful and interesting in the re-telling)

Hey you, Whitehouse,
Ha ha charade you are.
You house proud town mouse,
Ha ha charade you are
You’re trying to keep our feelings off the street.
You’re nearly a real treat,
All tight lips and cold feet
And do you feel abused?
…..! …..! …..! …..!
You gotta stem the evil tide,
And keep it all on the inside.
Mary you’re nearly a treat,
Mary you’re nearly a treat
But you’re really a cry.

Pink Floyd, Pigs(Three Different Ones)

So yesterday I mentioned a new animal. I am temporarily, indefinitely, cat-sitting for Eddie. His current pad does not allow pets, and he will be moving again soon, don’t yet know where or what the rules will be.

Jungle Kitty

Her name is Bast (yeah, yeah, I know) and she is six months old, a little bit on the mean side and not quite sure how she really wants to deal with anything.

Kitty identity crisis.

But she is also a beautiful cat, and young enough that she is quite capable of getting past all this.

Angel, in the meantime, loves the idea of having a new playmate. She just doesn’t understand why Bast is so reluctant to play. On the up side, I’m already seeing that Bast does want to play, but as soon as she starts, she gets suddenly nervous, realizing what she’s just done. Already, Angel has learned to back off and wait for the cat to come to her. And Bast is realizing it, even if she doesn’t yet trust it. I give it a few more days before her intellectual response catches up with her instinctive – and then the two of them will become fast friends.

In the meantime, if they are both awake and about, there is a constant background hum of kitty growls and occasional explosions of puppy barking. Really, only the barking is bothering me – Angel has been really good about not being a barker, so I am working hard on making certain that this experience doesn’t screw that up.

We lost ourselves in these bright lights and cigarettes.
We became our charade.
A classic primetime tragedy, so skin graphed, a romantically hopeless war path.
Statistically the cameras said.
That lovers like us die, in car wrecks.

Mathematically incorrect, you fuckers ain’t seen nothin yet.
And baby tonight we’ll be the robots in the spotlight.
We lost ourselves in these bright lights and cigarettes.
We became our charade.
A classic primetime tragedy, so skin graphed, a romantically hopeless warpath.
Statistically the cameras set.
And lovers like us die in car wrecks.

Odd Project, Statistics Like Cigarettes

I have a new animal in the house today…. I’ll talk more about that tomorrow. To tide ya over….

I read another article today that paints our future pretty much hosed. Of course, it was written from the perspective of someone who wants to save civilization and specifically the “american” way of life. And, of course, statistics can be made to say anything. Nonetheless, it covers the whole gamut of what is going in the American Economic system, the ecological crisis, and so forth. Read it if you like, just keep in mind the perspective and assumptions beneath the “call to arms.”

This was an email sent to me… about a wealthy man showing his son how poor people live… I couldn’t help myself… I had to play with it a little and re-present it in it’s modified form

One day, the father of a civilized family took his son on a trip with the express purpose of showing him how primitive people live.

They spent a couple of days and nights visiting an aboriginal tribe.

On their return from their trip , the father asked his son , “How was the trip?”

“It was great , Dad.”

“Did you see how primitive people live?” the father asked.

“Oh yeah , ” said the son.

“So , tell me , what did you learn from the trip?” asked the father.

The son answered:

“I saw that we have one dog and they had a whole pack.

We have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden and they have a creek that has no end.

We have imported lanterns in our garden and they have the stars at night.

Our patio reaches to the front yard and they have the whole horizon.

We have a small piece of land to live on and they have forests and prairies that go beyond our sight.

We have servants who serve us , but they serve one another.

We buy our food , but they merely have to pick it up.

We rely on our occupation and money, they rely on the Earth to provide.

We have walls around our property to protect us , they have friends to protect them.”

The boy’s father was speechless.

Then his son added , “Thanks Dad for showing me how primitive we are.”

I’ve got your picture, I’ve got your picture
I’d like a million of them all ’round myself
I want a doctor to take your picture
So I can look at you from inside as well
You’ve got me turning up I’m turning down
I’m turning in I’m turning ’round

I’m turning Japanese
I think I’m turning Japanese
I really think so
Turning Japanese
I think I’m turning Japanese
I really think so
I’m turning Japanese
I think I’m turning Japanese
I really think so
Turning Japanese
I think I’m turning Japanese
I really think so

The Vapors, Turning Japanese

In the ongoing discussion with Vera a few more things have occurred to me (thanks Vera!)

Agriculture… Horticulture… Cultivation… whatever really does not matter. Sure, it is good for communication to be using terms that everyone understands in the same way (which was the originally premise of the other article), but the simple fact remains that for every rule there is an exception. So no matter the means of subsistence, the true, key factor isn’t a factor at all. It’s the total system.

I questioned, in our discussion, whether Egyptian agriculture was, in fact, agriculture at all by the terms of diminishing returns. And now that I really think about that, it may honestly be a valid question. But there is no question, whatsoever, that the Egyptians were civilized and subject to all of the issues of sustainability that are at the core of the discussion. Alternately, there is no question that the salmon based northwestern US tribes were foragers, yet they had the population and population dynamics (emergent hierarchy etc) that would be classified as a chiefdom and therefore, perhaps well on its way to becoming civilized. We’ll never know if their limitations were sufficient to prevent such a thing from happening, because Europeans stepped in and did what colonizers always do.

So if there is no one thing that can be pointed to as a baseline, where does that leave us?

I’m going to attempt to draw a correlation here, and we’ll see, once I am done if it works.

My friend Jason did a presentation at the Three River’s Bioneers conference last month? Two months back, maybe. In it, he discussed the fact that Europeans, as “colonizers,” have never become native to their place. Specifically, he was talking about North America. His family, after nearly four hundred years of habitation, is no more native to this place than the recent immigrant. Instead, we have tried to recreate Europe on American soil. And, to a certain degree we have succeeded (if you want to call what we have done “success”.)

Let me suggest a furtherance of that thought. European culture is no more native in Europe than it is in America. Bear with me.

If we look at native american civilizations: the aztec and inca, the mississipians, etc…. all of these cultures were native to the place where they existed. Many were well known for leaving local culture intact, even as they imposed outside economic control. So whether one was looking at the core, or the outliers of these civilizations, the inhabitants were very much a part of their land and traditional culture. Screwed up, violent, hierarchal, absolutely. But still, fundamentally, native.

In contrast, European culture, from the time that agriculture arrived, was fundamentally not native for one very specific reason: the food stuffs they were growing were not native. In order to embrace these new plants, new techniques, new life strategies the people needed to separate themselves from the natural ecology of their place. Civilizations were not born in Europe, they were imported. The agricultural system itself was the original “colonizer” of Europe.

What I don’t know – and I am too lazy to research at this point in my life – is how this idea relates to the other regions of the Earth where agriculture developed: primarily China (yellow river) and India. How much of their systems were indigenous, how much was imported? Specifically, did peoples in these regions walk away when their agricultural systems failed, or did they press on no matter the cost? Europeans always pressed on. Perhaps partly due to luck, but also, largely, because they could not imagine that any other way of living was acceptable. Is this true in other places, with indigenous civilizations? Obviously in the Americas, native civilizations led to sustainable after-cultures. (The mayans, the pueblo peoples/anasazi, the mississippians) What about the rest of the world?

If anyone knows – or is interested in taking the time to find out, that would be fabulous. I would be interested in the answers. But for myself, I am far more interested in trekking out into my backyard for further education than I am in delving into ancient history.

One final thought. Although I am proposing another possibility for “the thing,” this also comes with a realization on my part that there is no “thing” that can be pointed to as the end all be all of sustainable vs not. Looking at systems is more useful than looking at items, but systems, themselves are merely nested sets of greater systems. So looking at one, by itself, is simply another form of reductionism. And our answers won’t be found with reductionism. But perhaps this particular “thing” I am proposing is another piece of the puzzle.

Watching them come and go
Tomorrows and the yesterdays oh ho
Christians and the unbelievers
Hanging by the cross and nail oh ho

But if you pray all your sins are hooked upon the sky
Pray and the heathen lie will disappear oh ho
Prayers they hide the saddest view
(Believing the strangest things, loving the alien)
And your prayers they break the sky in two
(Believing the strangest things, loving the alien)
You pray till the break of ALL.
(Believing the strangest things, loving the alien)
And you’ll believe you’re loving the alien
(Believing the strangest things, loving the alien)
Believeing the strangest things (loving the alien)

David Bowie, Loving the Alien

I am, and have been all my life, a sci-fi geek. I love sci fi films, most of my reading-for-pleasure is in the sci-fi fantasy genre, I’ve been known to lose myself in video games of the RPG variety and I even play Dungeons and Dragons when I have the opportunity.

Many years ago, I watched the original The Day the Earth Stood Still. I don’t remember much at this point, so when I watched the remake last night it was almost like seeing something brand new. As far as visuals and acting, I’d say it was a pretty good film. The story was interesting, but I found myself having very strong conflicted reactions to all of it.

On the one side, the mere idea of an advanced alien race coming to Earth to save the planet from its human disease made me… well, smile, basically. Just because it phrased our destruction of the planet in a way that was, well, obvious to anyone looking. Of course we are to blame, and of course our behavior is totally inexcusable and anyone with any sense can see that. Then there were the scenes of the plague bugs decimating military installations, power plants and football stadiums. Boo ya! Cool.

But then there was the level at which it really disturbed me.

When the film ended, it was with the exclamation that we can change, and more importantly, that now we are on the brink of destruction we will change. Go us. But the question remains, how? It is left assumed that we can simply do things differently, because we are being “forced” to do things differently, and everything will be fine. No one has to die. No one has to suffer or do without. Its simply a choice that our governments can make and that’s all there is to it.

Naïve doesn’t begin to cover it.

Of course this is Hollywood. This is Sci-fi. This is contemporary culture. But because it is contemporary culture, how many people left the film believing it really is that simple?

Reminds me of one of the issues I continue to have with Derrick Jensen. I’ve been reading Endgame, Part I for the last few days (there will be a full right up on each volume as I get through them) and one recurring theme keeps stricking me again and again. He keeps talking about “stopping them.” Them being anyone with money, or power or influence in this country. And I believe, though I cannot be certain, that anyone with money includes the middle class and up. But even if it does not, I still take exception to that.

I grew up in the upper-middle, middle class (ie… we were doing better than most, but not truly upper-middle.) My parents may be foolish and republican and blinded by the facade of civilization, but they never made decisions that they recognized as being toxic for the world, or its future. I, too, spent a short part of my adult life in that same economic standing. I left it because I was not happy, my life seemed hollow and dull. But I did not actively encourage any of the things destroying the planet even when I did embrace that life (short tho it was).

On the flip, Derrick spends a lot of time in his books exploring the psychological trauma that all civilized persons undergo, from birth. So is it the case that some people (the poor, the disenfranchised, the marginalized) are excused from their guilt because of this trauma, whereas others (the wealthy, the powerful – remember on a world wide scale, this includes ALL americans) are not? Does he honestly believe that our leaders in Washington are consciously and intentionally trying to destroy the planet?

I don’t think so.

Now, it is true, I believe, that when W was in office, he made decisions that were specifically designed to satisfy biblical prophecy leading up to Armageddon. That’s disturbing on all kinds of levels. But just the same, in his mind, he honestly believed that this was best for mankind. So call him insane. Call him fundamentalist (synonyms, IMO), but that does not make him evil. (Some other things may make him evil, but in the same way that an abuser that started as a victim is evil.)

All of this is merely to say that I am not going to go around carrying the weight of guilt for the horrors of civilization. I didn’t do it, and pretending that I did would only paralyze me with grief and shame. But at the same time, I am not going to go around pointing the finger at anyone else, either. We live within a system that has repeatedly had “only the best intentions” (even when that was a blatant, self serving lie, it was still believed.) And those best intentions have created some of the most horrific and devastating effects the planet has ever seen.

So yes, the end of civilization will be a tremendous boon for human and non-human life across the globe. But finger pointing and best intentions aside, it will be neither easy, nor painless, nor without horrible loss of life. Individually, we need to stop thinking otherwise, and focus our attentions on doing what we can to create something better. Whether we survive it, individually, or not is irrelevant. But we can share ideas, imagine possibilities and share those thoughts with as many others as possible and THAT is what will enable humanity to find another way.

I don’t believe it!
There she goes again!
She’s tidied up and I can’t find anything!
all my tubes and wires
And careful notes
And antiquated notions
but – it’s poetry in motion
And when she turned her eyes to me
As deep as any ocean
As sweet as any harmony
Mmm – she blinded me with science
“She blinded me with science!”
She blinded me with …

Thomas Dolby, She Blinded Me With Science

Once upon a time, I had the mind of a scientist. As a kid, I loved geology and astronomy… hell, I wanted to be an astronomer when I grew up. (Eventually, I learned that what I really wanted to be was a cosmologist, but that was only after I had switched gears and become an english major). Even once I decided that my career wouldn’t be in the sciences I continued to study certain disciplines for the sheer joy of understanding. So I kept up with the latest ideas on the nature of the universe, I followed the various space probes as they headed out into the void, I discovered and absorbed everything I could find on quantum theory and, later, string theory. I simply found it all fascinating. And in the back of my mind, for many years, I had a slowly developing alternative to the Big Bang. It never quite became conscious and clear, but I was aware that I was trying to piece something together.

Once I changed gears and got interested in Ishmael-inspired themes, I dove full bore into evolutionary theory. I had always accepted its basic premise and pretty much assumed it was (mostly) correct, but I never took a biology course in school, so I had never delved too deeply. Now I did. As a result, I spent a lot of time in the ish forums educating various participants in exactly how evolution works and how we can understand, better, the complex processes involved. It was really good for me, as it gave me a specific focus of interest and expertise and, frankly, there is no better way to learn something than to teach it. And learn it I did.

Eventually, around the same time that I left Chicago, I began to move away from the sciences. Not because I think that they are wrong, but simply because I started to question one of the most basic principles that ALL science is based on: reductionism. How can I possibly understand the nature of a devil’s food cake by tasting a bit of raw flour? Yes, that is silly, but it is also a valid question.

A lot of these questions arose out my study of chaos theory. Well… that, and a few experiences with mushrooms of the psychedelic variety. No, not the way you think. You see, when I trip, and I close my eyes, I see fractals. Growing, evolving, changing behind my closed eyelids. And I remember a time, years back, when my ex had a computer program that generated fractals on the computer screen. I remember watching them and being fascinated – all years before I understood what a fractal really represented.

Let’s look at that… a fractal is a certain type of mathematical equation which you can only solve by running it through each iteration. In other words, you can project the final outcome in any way. You have to solve it repeatedly until it ends. Weather is a complex system – thus the cliché failures of weathermen the world round… the further in the future they try to predict the greater chance that they are completely wrong. Climate, on the other hand, is a merely complicated system, so expecting warm summers and cold winters (relatively) is almost always a safe bet.

But then there are those fractals that my mind generated inside my eyelids. And the patterns I watched, externally on the computer screen. I could never give you the mathematical solution for any of those equations, but the graphical patterns? Yes, I “knew” where it was going to go next at any moment. Simple pattern recognition, and intuition.

So this got me thinking about natural systems and the reductionism of science. Reductionism tries to separate the pieces of a system, to understand each piece before even looking at the relationships. But reality is in the relationships. It’s not the flour, the cocoa, the sugar… it is the way the components combine and alter one another that creates the devil’s food. As a decently accomplished cook, I can play with the relationships, adding other components or changing the quantities of each and generally I will still come up with a rather fine cake (always measure when baking bah!). Not because I understand the nature of a chocolate chip, but because I feel the potential relationship.

So why am I talking about baking a cake? I don’t even eat cake anymore. But it is a simple example that most of us can relate too – even those that have never baked intuitively recognize that adding chocolate chips to devil’s food would be yummy. (Obviously, its been done before ) That makes for a good, simple example that most people can relate to. But now, how about something a little more complex (pardon the pun).

Over the last few days, vera and I have been discussing the difference between agriculture and horticulture. Yesterday, she asked me about Polyface Farms and Joel Salatin. Joel and his farm were featured in Michale Pollen’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma. Joel is doing some really fabulous things. And more importantly, he is allowing himself to learn from his land, experiment with alternatives, explore possibilities. But he is still farming — he is still doing agriculture. I suspect if he continues on the path he is on, one day that will no longer be true. But how would you determine that?

In the other discussion, we were talking about diminishing marginal returns as the benchmark to separate ag from horticulture. From a scientific point of view (and therefore a civilized point of view) that is a relatively simple and straightforward way to identify the difference: it focus on numbers in and out. It focuses on bottom line. It is reductionistic. Useful when speaking to people that hold a civilized worldview.

Within that same worldview, you could break down all of the things he is doing in any given season, and come to the same conclusion based on the tools and techniques he is using. That would be the “proof” that the mathematical formulation works. Whichever side of the line he falls on in a given season.

But despite the fact that I introduced these terms and techniques into the discussion, when vera asked me if Joel was a horticulturalist, I did not do any of these things when forming my answer. I simply thought about what I know of Joel’s operation and I knew he was doing agriculture and fundamentally unsustainable. Systemic, complex, intuition. Likewise, if I turn my thoughts to traditional slash and burn “agriculture”, I know that it is truly horticulture and sustainable**.

So what is the point in all this? I guess at it’s core, I am suggesting that sustainability, at its core, is a function of developing relationships with your community; human and non-human. And in opposition to all of those people that tell us that we will be giving up science and technology and therefore, knowledge, I would like to suggest that we are giving up nothing more than the hubris that we know anything at all.

** Some years back I read an article on traditional slash and burn techniques in the Amazon. In opposition to the assumption that slash and burn is destructive, the article described the entire system once (and in some cases still) used: A plot of jungle would be slashed and burned, clearing land and simultaneously feeding the very poor jungle soil. After the rains, primary and secondary food crops would be planted. These would be followed by perennial food and fiber plants interplanted with annuals and tree seedlings (often fruit or nut trees). Over the course of several seasons, the perennials and trees would take over the entire plot. The fruit and nuts would continue to be harvested for as much as twenty years until larger, non-foodbearing trees took over the area. This same process would be used on multiple plots, each at a different stage of succession. I’m sure I am leaving out key points as I read this probably four or five years ago, but I cannot find a good online discussion of these techniques in the short amount of time I was willing to search.

My mother told me good
My mother told me strong.
She said “be true to yourself
And you can’t go wrong.”
“But there’s just one thing
That you must understand.”
“You can fool with your brother -
But don’t mess with a missionary man.”

The Eurythmics, Missionary Man

I started on this exploratory journey that has become my life just over six years ago now, when my then – partner brought home a copy of the book Ishmael by Daniel Quinn. I finished the book within an afternoon and became really excited. It wasn’t that there was anything much in the book that I didn’t already know, but the way Dan put it all together created a click in my brain. I had been looking for the answer to the question “what went wrong” since I was in high school… I had planned a major in “The History of Religion” just to find the answer to that question, but pregnancy intervened and I never got around to following through on it. Now I know that I would not have found my answer there, anyway. I was on the right track (I was suspecting institutionalized religion as the culprit), but I was looking too recent.

In any case, once I read the book, my ex and I spent a good solid month in excited conversation, talking about what we could do with our lives differently. What plans we might make for the future that were very different from where we once thought we would go. How we could do things different in the short term. There were grandiose designs in there at first, and then lots of debate as I continued to read more and he gradually got discouraged and played devil’s advocate with greater frequency and passion. Shortly thereafter, I discovered Ishcon.org. The site no longer exists (it has mutated into ishthink.org), but there I found many people I now consider to be some of my best friends. And it gave me a venue to talk with people about these ideas in great depth.

The following spring I attended a real-life conference with many of them. We sat down over the course of a weekend and made real friendships, learned much and discussed ideas endlessly. Over the years since, I have attended a number of such gatherings all over the country. As time has passed, discussing ideas has become less important while experiencing relationship has become moreso. For me, that is partly because I have attended so many gatherings that I have seen the same people over and over – so friendships have had the opportunity to grow and deepen. It is also partly something else, however, and that is really what I want to talk about.

Dave Pollard wrote an article yesterday about a conference he attended this last weekend. He found himself confronted with a group of young, idealistic (and therefore naïve) college graduates, getting ready to embark on an adult life of “changing the system from within.” He found himself unable and unwilling to expend the energy necessary to try and educate and convince them of the folly of thinking that they could really create change in this way. And I very much understand how he felt.

Over the first few years of reading, discussing, debating and learning after discovering Ishmael, I developed a very solid conception of my new world view. I absolutely knew what I believed and wanted nothing more that to educate everyone around me about this new (old) idea I had. I was less of a missionary than most – I tried to focus my attention on those that I thought might be ready to listen, excepting, of course, my family, whom I simply had to make understand. I got my heart broken many times during that period. Because, frankly, the only people really ready to listen were those already headed down this path.

At the same time, tangible changes in my life were few and far between. I still lived in a 2500 square foot home, I still drove to the grocery store, (sometimes fifty miles to go to Whole Foods – so that was a change, but a mixed one at best.) And I still focused on finding ways to live that would change as little as possible for me. Ok… I am probably being harsh to myself on this – but I was very resistant to the idea of losing out on those things I still believed I needed or wanted in my life. Industrial Technology, mostly.

And there really were changes, I guess. I switched to a paleo-style diet, I spent more time working with my garden – especially learning the native plants for my area, exploring the possibilities of permaculture, spending a full year just observing the plants already existing on my property and how they related to one another, how they looked and behaved in different seasons, and how I could expand on what was there with as little disturbance as possible. I also learned to make soda, to work with natural fermentation, to can foods and how to cook with what was available instead of immediately going out and buying what I felt like eating.

When my ex and I split up, the fundamental reasoning behind it, from my perspective, was that I came to realize that we wanted different things from life. Living with him would always be a battle. Every little change being at the expense of hours, days, weeks of intense debate, yelling, crying, eventually giving in on most of what I wanted in order to find compromise. He being far more stubborn than I. So I had to decide what I wanted more – the relationship, or a life I could be proud of. I chose my life.

It was a fundamentally selfish decision, but I also discovered through those years that some things selfish are also right.

Since then, I have had to work a lot on remembering that sometimes selfish is right. It will probably be something that I always fight with, and I have written about this a few times recently – and this is also not what I want to talk about today. But it is part of the story.

In these years since I came to Colorado, I have given up entirely on the missionary game. Sometimes, I have felt like I left the Ishmaelian-inspired ideas behind me. But that isn’t it at all. In fact, I am more solidly ready for this than ever before in my life. But I no longer feel the need to expend my energy trying to sway others. Instead, I discover that I have come to a place where I just talk with people. I naturally discuss things with them that we share an interest in, and when we talk, my worldview peeps out. Over time and many conversations, they start to see a little tiny bit of what I see, without me ever trying to tell then anything. I don’t know if this will have any greater effect on the people I talk to than my earlier efforts to persuade. But one thing it does do – it creates relationship, mutual respect, possibility.

A good example, I have a young friend that came to work on my car for me one day. Between chores, he came in and we talked and somehow it came around to him telling me that he would love to just live in an orchard. Tend the orchard, eat from it, sell its products and just live in between times. A few weeks later, he told me that he was applying for his (marijuana) growers license and could I help him with ordering a book online? Of course I could. A week later when the book arrived, I also handed him my copy of Toby Hemenway’s Gaea’s Garden. The next day he walked into work absolutely bubbling with excitement. He had been reading both books and discovering techniques from each that would be useful. He was amazed at the possibilities opened up in his mind and displayed on the pages of GG.

Where will that lead? I have no idea, but it was the single best response I have ever gotten from “spreading the word” — and that wasn’t even exactly my intention. I offered him a tool that I thought he would find useful to do something for which he had passion.

I still have a long way to go before I can claim to “be the change,” but I have also come a long way from the days of missionary work. And I am proud of that. I no longer feel any need to try — I just do what I am able to do, when I am able to do it. And each day takes me a tiny incremental step closer to what I want to be when I grow up.*

** In the intro to Lierre Keith’s book The Vegetarian Myth, she notes that among Native Americans, growing up entails taking on responsibility for what you do – including accepting the responsibility involved in eating, whether at the expense of a plant or another animal. I found that to be very…. poignant. Soon I hope to read the whole book!

People, let me tell U somethin’
If U didn’t come 2 party, don’t bother knockin’ on my door
I got a lion in my pocket and, baby, he’s ready 2 roar (Yeah)
Everybody’s got a bomb, we could all die any day (Oh)
But before I let that happen, I’ll dance my life away

Oh, they say 2000 zero zero party over, oops, out of time!
(We’re runnin’ out of time)
So 2night I’m gonna party like it’s 1999! (We gonna, we gonna, oh!)

Prince, 1999

Okay, yeah… that is a bit of an exaggeration. Nonetheless, this last weekend I decided it was time for me to stop being a hermit and get my bootie out and have some fun again.

Why not… it was my birthday. And not just any birthday, but my 40th birthday. Wow. Who knew I’d live to see the day? But rather than feeling old, I am realizing how much I do NOT feel old. And I’m really digging that.

So last Saturday night I went out, drank way too much, played pool, played darts, danced… and I even sang Karaoke. That could have been good, but by the time they called me up I was a bit… over the limit, shall we say… so I was rather disappointed in my performance. But then, there were no really phenomenal performers there, so I’m not exactly getting all wound up about it.

I stayed out too late, I consumed far more alcohol than I really should have and I slept too little, so Sunday – my actual birthday – I was feeling a bit run over. Just the same, after nursing myself with a lot of water a couple decent meals and a relaxing film after work, I headed out again. This time for a much more relaxed, hang out with friends and have a few cocktails sort of evening. It worked out really well.

When I got to the bar, a friend of mine was working and three gentlemen were hanging around – two that I sort of know as regulars and one that, after a few moments we realized was one of my regular customers at the restaurant. We chatted some and got to know each other and played some pool. Then one of my co-workers showed up. Then Eddie and another mutual friend came in. It was a few hours of hanging out, drinking socially (but not at all to excess), chatting and pool playing. Then everyone gradually started to head on home. When Eddie left, I announced to my friend behind the bar that that day marked the most pleasant and relaxed time I had spent with Eddie in many many months. It was good. I think I have my friend back.

I managed to get home by midnight (after all, my birthday was over at that point), played with the dog, went to bed and woke up Monday feeling just fine. That’s how I like it (except for those rare occasions like Saturday when I really feel like going all out.)

Brilliant weekend… and a spring board to start getting out and having fun as a regular sort of thing. Not that I will get smashed all that often… but being around people again is something I am definitely ready for. Go me.

I don’t mind stealing bread
From the mouths of decadence
But I can’t feed on the powerless
When my cup’s already overfilled,
But it’s on the table
The fire is cooking
And they’re farming babies
While slaves are working
Blood is on the table
And the mouths are choking
But I’m growing hungry

I don’t mind stealing bread
From the mouths of decadence
But I can’t feed on the powerless
When my cup’s already overfilled
But it’s on the table
The fires cooking
And they’re farming babies
While the slaves are all working
And it’s on the table
The mouths are choking
But I’m growing hungry
I’m going hungry

Temple of the Dog, Hunger Strike

I just read an article that Michael Pollan wrote for NY Times back in August. I read Michael’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma a few years back and found it to be very interesting, informative, useful.. the hat-trick in non-fiction books. This more recent article is about the relationships between the increase in processed food and corresponding decrease in real cooking in American homes, and the rise of cooking shows and Food Network, specifically.

Now, once upon a time, when I still watched tv and Food Network was just a baby, I watched it quite a lot for maybe a year or so. I was struck reading this comment regarding Iron Chef style programs:

But you do have to wonder how easily so specialized a set of skills might translate to the home kitchen — or anywhere else for that matter. For when in real life are even professional chefs required to conceive and execute dishes in 20 minutes from ingredients selected by a third party exhibiting obvious sadistic tendencies? (String cheese?) Never, is when. The skills celebrated on the Food Network in prime time are precisely the skills necessary to succeed on the Food Network in prime time. They will come in handy nowhere else on God’s green earth.(link)

You see, I have to admit, one of my favorite shows at that time was one of these competition type deals, although I can no longer remember the name. It was less “dramatic” than many of it’s descendants, but the same elements were there: ingredients chosen by two contestants that then cooked with “their” chef-partner, a standard pantry and a time limit. At the end of the show, the meals presented were judged and one of the two contestants were declared winners. I don’t recall what, exactly they won, but who cares?

The point is, I DO cook… more and more each year and in some ways, that is where it started. I mean, I actually started cooking a little in high school, and a little more once I hit college… but during those times I had a few specialties and rarely tried anything new. Whereas once I started watching the cooking shows, I started looking at cooking differently. Particularly the competition show taught me to look at food as a collection of possibilities. During that time in my life, I didn’t make “recipes” — I walked into the grocery store and wandered the produce section looking for something to pop out at me. Something on sale, or in season, or just… appealing to my senses. Once I found something, then I would continue around the store looking for meats, pastas (or other starch products) and so forth to compliment what I had so far. And then I would go home and put it all together into a meal.

To this day, I rarely use any sort of recipe. When I am canning or baking I will look at a cookbook for inspiration, for times, temperatures, procedures… and then I put it away and do what I think is best based on those recommendations. The end.

In the article, there is lots of commentary on the rise of obesity in this country and it’s absolute correlation with cooking at home. And there is talk about how, we, as a society, can get back into the kitchen and reinvent our relationship with food. The question arises, who will teach future generations to cook? I don’t think that is relevant at all. Cooking is in our very bones… sure, it’s a talent and it is a passion for some of those with talent, but regardless of talent or passion, making food is not something anyone needs to be taught… they just need to step up and do it.

** Regardless of the title… I’ve always kinda disliked Emeril. In fact, when his show started becoming the end all be all of Food Network – that’s when I stopped watching……..