Scaling down, or setting realistic goals

I am forty-four years old. And while I am in reasonably robust good health, I do have some issues (especially joint issues) which periodically remind me that I am no longer in my twenties, or even thirties. I have also, thanks to the economic meltdown of 2009, had to be very cautious of my rapidly-depleting finances. As a result of these factors, I have had reluctantly to begin to re-think some of my farm dreams. I have not given them up, but I have scaled them back considerably.

In order to head up to Sterling College for that wonderful year-long Sustainable Agriculture program, I would need to sell my condo. Given the current market, that would be hard to do without taking a loss on it, and that's not something I want to do if at all avoidable. I would then have to look for a place up in Vermont, to either rent or purchase. Again, not impossible, but a challenge, from so many hundreds of miles away. Finally, I would be taking a major chance on being able to find or create – as soon as possible after completion of the program – a farm-based enterprise that would make money... and do so more-or-less on my own, since it is unclear just how much hands-on support I would enjoy from my lady-love. Having to take her interests and desires into account also complicates – no offense to her – a move which would be challenging enough even if I were alone.

Given this combination of circumstances, it seems to make the most sense to me to remain in this area and try to find permanent, benefited employment either in the Maryland Park Service or something related, and from there look at ways in which I/we can "homestead" on our own land once I'm in a financial position to move from this condo to a place with some actual land attached. Major goals include a large garden, and chickens! Possible longer-term goals include a family cow and perhaps a couple of draft horses or oxen, if or as space and financial concerns allow it. The main focus would be, not on making the farm pay for itself, but homesteading on whatever property I/we end up with, as a way of increasing self-sufficiency and, hopefully, decreasing costs.

This is not quite the "farm dream" that I had even six months ago, but it is a more realistic goal to strive toward, considering the realities of my current situation. And it will allow many of the same sorts of things I was looking for in obtaining and running a larger farm, including greater food self-sufficiency, improved health and well-being as a result, a more sustainable lifestyle in general, and perhaps even a greater level of independence from "the grid" if I am able to heat with wood, utilize solar and/or wind-power for a portion of our electricity, and so on. So, this is the updated version of my goals for at least this part of my future. We shall see how they shape up, in practice!

Updating on this blog, and life in general

Previous visitors will note some changes to the focus, and even the name, of this blog. As I have written in the introductory blurb, the name “Albion's Meade” combines the ancient bardic name for England with a play on words: “meade” can be both a green meadow and the intoxicating brew Celts and Vikings alike considered the font of inspiration. It is also the working name of the small, diversified family farm I hope one day to own and operate: “Albion’s Meade Farm.” Much varied commentary may still be found herein, but a major focus will be my journey toward becoming, at last, a “yeoman farmer” in the Jeffersonian tradition.

Why this change? One reason is that I am currently out of work: Spoutwood Farm, where I have been employed in one capacity or the other for the last five years, is a non-profit educational organization, and the “non-profit” part became all too literal this year. With income failing to meet expenses, they were forced to cut my position, and therefore, me as well. This has led me to do a great deal of thinking and soul-searching, regarding my future, as well of course as more pragmatic job-searching.

Nothing is certain at this point, but the most likely outcome I can foresee is that I return to school, either in the Spring, Summer, or Fall of 2010; the program I am most strongly leaning toward is Sterling College's program in Sustainable Agriculture, after which I would start my own small farm (hopefully with the assistance of my “significant other”), most likely either in New England or Pennsylvania (Maryland, much as I love the state, is just too expensive). Although the Sterling program is undergraduate, I have found no graduate program which compares to the kind of practical, pragmatic, hands-on training provided there; with my existing academic background, I am hopeful of being able to complete the program in two years, same as for a masters. I am making inquiry, however, into the prospects of teaching at Sterling: combined with a small farm nearby, that would be by far the best of both worlds!

So, I am hoping to turn the challenge of losing my job into the opportunity of starting a newer and better life, one which is more integrated, fulfilling, and close to Nature. And as a writer, I am reminded of something I read some years ago – perhaps the best piece of advice ever given to a writer, especially an outdoor writer: “Live the kind of life that’s worth writing about!” That is something I have not really been doing recently. So, all things considered, I am optimistic about my future. With a little luck and a lot of hard work, I hope to be able to turn the challenge of unemployment into the blessing of satisfying, worthwhile work in harmony with Nature.

May it be so!

Column: Independent rhetoric, dependent reality

Just a few days ago, we celebrated Independence Day, the anniversary of the United Colonies’ declaration of independence from Great Britain more than 225 years ago. We celebrated with fireworks, and perhaps still in a few places parades, with picnics and cookouts and trips to the beach and mountains.

And hopefully, somewhere along the line, we stopped for at least a few moments to give thanks for those who sacrificed much -- their “lives, fortunes, and sacred honor,” as they themselves put it -- to make us free, and to keep us that way in the years since.

But just how independent are we, actually? The truthful answer would have to be, not very. And less so, it seems, with each passing year.

Since our shift, c. 1970, from net oil exporter to net oil importer, we have been deeply dependent on sources of supply outside our own country to feed our ravenous appetite for oil and petroleum products. Some of those sources of supply are in countries that tolerate us at best, actively dislike us at worst.

We are dependent on 15,000-mile supply lines from China to supply us with the cheap consumer goods on which we have come to rely so greatly. Combine that with the last bit of dependency, and it’s easy to see why higher fuel prices are a concern for more than just filling our own tanks.

We have allowed ourselves to become dependent on government handouts and so-called entitlements in many areas of life. And we have acceded to the breakdown of organizations -- civic organizations and social clubs like the Grange, the Jaycees, and many others -- which previously served as buffers between individuals, the government, and the forces of nature, circumstance, and economics that buffet all of us.

That last is a clue to the fact that absolute and complete independence is an impossibility, of course. We could not have achieved our independence from England without the support of France, during our Revolutionary War. And even the most ruggedly independent pioneer or settler depended upon his neighbors, his family, or sometimes the local Indian tribe, to survive.

Interdependence is one thing, if it’s mutual. It is, in fact, probably the most basic, most natural, most normal condition for human beings. But the current situation, marked by trade deficits, military adventurism, and mistrust of American motives, is untenable.

If nothing else, the United States used to be able to be reliably counted upon to export its values: values like freedom, democracy, tolerance, and the rule of law. We still talk a good line in those regards, but place our rhetoric next to the Patriot Act, Guantanamo Bay, warrantless electronic surveillance, waterboarding, and other actions in Iraq and elsewhere, and it’s no wonder many people in many countries of the world still admire the ideals of America, but fear and mistrust our actions.

Our next President, whoever he may be, will have his work cut out for him mending fences abroad, and trying to rebuild our badly damaged reputation.

Between now and Independence Day, 2009, we need a national conversation on how we as a nation and as individuals can become more independent -- in fuel, food, consumer goods, and many other economic measures, and in our personal expectations -- while at the same time promoting healthy and reasonable inter dependence with our neighbors, both locally and internationally.

If we can accomplish this, whether by next Fourth of July or ten Fourths of July down the road, we will really have something to celebrate.

2007 Fairie Festival at Spoutwood Farm

Please note: there are many spellings of fairie/fairy/faery, but "fairie" is how Spoutwood has chosen to spell it, so that is the form I have used throughout.

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On the first weekend of May, I attended a most remarkable event. Nestled into a peaceful corner of York County, PA, near the borough of Glen Rock, is Spoutwood Farm. Most of the year it quietly produces fresh, organic-quality vegetables from its community supported agriculture gardens, honey from its hives, and grapes for a local vintner. It also hosts educational programs related to sustainable agriculture, simple living, and the environment.

Once a year, however, this sleepy farm is transformed. Like Brigadoon coming out of the mists, it becomes the site of the annual May Day Fairie Festival. The Fairie Festival was the brainchild of Rob and Lucy Wood, owners of Spoutwood, and began 16 years ago as a party for 100 friends. Last year, 2006, some 12,000 people came through the gates over the three days the Festival ran, and this year, the number was closer to 15,000. Patrons came from as far away as Japan, and performers from as far as Scotland.

Why do they come? To "celebrate the beginning of spring and the return of the nature spirits to the warm world," according to the professionally-produced program. It is a participatory celebration of the spirit of nature and of the springtime, and judging by the expressions of joy and wonder on the faces of patrons both young and old, the enchantment runs deep.

To be sure, the Fairie Festival is not for everyone. I think the reality is that what one sees in the Fairie Festival is, to a large degree, based on what one brings to it. If you bring a desire for order, structure, and normalcy, as society understands these, you may be disappointed. If you're looking for creativity, freedom of spirit, and openness to difference, change, and transformation, you'll find it, in vast and indeed bewildering variety. For some, it can be an experience of sensory overload -- even, perhaps, intimidation.

Yet the spirit of the Fairie Festival is a spirit of whimsy, play, and celebration of the mythic imagination. Fairies, sprites, and pixies, dryads and Green Men, brownies, gnomes, and elves, and maybe even a sleepy dragon are among the mythical creatures found represented there, by performers, presenters, and patrons alike. Fairie wings and pixie dust abound, along with Maypole dances, the throbbing rhythms of drums, the skirl of bagpipes, the haunting melodies of Celtic music, and the driving beat of world fusion.

Music and dancing is in many ways the heart of this embodiment of the Fairie Realms here on earth: a celebration of the growing light and warmth of spring, the re-emergence of the life of trees and flowers, plants and animals -- and the re-awakening of human beings, too, as we throw off our winter torpor and embrace the springtime pulses that flow in our veins. In the drums and penny-whistles, bagpipes, fiddles, and guitars, the human spirit soars and leaps with the spirit of the season.

Food and drink (of the non-alcoholic variety) abound as well, as do rows of booths where merchants sell their fairie-themed, and usually hand-made, wares. Whether your taste is for ceramics or leather goods, jewelry or wood-carving, decorative ironwork, textiles or other visual arts, you can find it among the stalls on Frodo's Hill, Glimmer Place, Rainbow Court, or elsewhere throughout this temporary fairie village.

The Fairie Festival is about more than merriment and mythical imagination, however, important though those are. It is also about reawakening a sense of wonder and appreciation towards nature. Fairies, after all, are generally conceived as spirits of nature, of the elements -- earth, air, fire and water -- and of the Earth herself. While evoking the "Otherworld" of the Fairie Realms, the Festival also seeks to evoke love, respect, and care for this world, in all its imperilled beauty and wonder.

A particular theme of the last few years has been zero-waste, and while that ideal has yet to be fully realized in practice, the Festival generates far less waste than any event of comparable size I've ever intended. In part this is because of a policy that requires food vendors to offer serving containers and flatware, even cups, made of recyclable paper or compostable corn, soy, and potato-derived materials. Nearly everything that could be waste is compostable, recyclable, or both.

"The fairie and May Day themes," the festival brochure continues, "go back to ancient times in almost all cultures, especially to the Celts of the British Isles who had a festival on the first day of May called Beltane. It was a time of great rejoicing at the return of the earth's abundance in spring and the impending bounty of summer. The Celts celebrated the spirits of nature by honoring not only the plants that they could see and smell but also the unseen beings of the fairie realms."

So, on the first weekend of May each year, do the thousands of people who pass the portals of Spoutwood Farm for this mythical, mystical rite of spring.

Re: The Fall of Man and the Neolithic Revolution

My good friend "Roland," over at the Two Natures blog, posted a fascinating essay entitled, you guessed it, "The Fall of Man and the Neolithic Revolution." It is a very good piece, and I encourage you to read it before you read my own thoughts on the subject.

I was particularly interested to read this post, as I have been thinking along similar lines myself, for many years. Since at least my college days, in fact.

I actually had posited the (pre-)historical Fall to have occured earlier, when hominids first came down from the trees and began to walk upright, use tools, etc. -- when they first began to exhibit reflective thinking, in other words, rather than relying on instinct. But some non-human primates (chimps, for instance) and even some birds (crows, parrots) seem able to do some of those things. Does that mean that they, too, have the prospect of being "fallen"? That seems unlikely. And Roland makes a good case that it was when we stepped out of our proper "place" in nature, our natural role in the overall scheme of things, that we ran into trouble.

In any case, I have come to believe that creatures living in a state of nature -- that is, living in accordance with their natures, which is inherently also living in accordance with God's intention/will/plan -- are also living in a state of grace. And that included hominids/humans until, as Roland writes, we "left the garden," e.g., gave up living in "our place" in the natural scheme of things and began seriously manipulating Creation (and each other) for our own ends. That was clearly a "fall from grace," and "expulsion from the garden," as we began using/manipulating/destroying the garden (the earth/nature, or as some would have it, Gaia) to suit ourselves.

I think that is a major reason that earth/nature-based religions have never lost their appeal, although they have periodically been driven underground, and why (want to talk controversial!) I believe that Christianity, important as it is, does not and perhaps cannot serve as a complete answer to the spiritual longings of many (most?) humans. Although it contains within itself (mostly from the Old Testament, but there are also hints in certain of Paul's writings) the seeds of a viable theology of Creation, care for Creation, and dynamic, even ecstatic, union with the rest of (non-human) Creation, those seeds have never germinated in any meaningful way.

Christianity's importance, as I see it, is in addressing a) the problem of mortality, an issue in much (though not all) of the ancient world, and b) the problem of sin, also an issue for a number of the ancients, but especially for the Jewish people. And it accomplishes both through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Well and good, so far. But one of the reasons I think Christianity is losing ground in the contemporary world (aside from televangelists and others who present it as a caricature or parody of itself) is that neither of those issues -- for better or for worse -- is a major concern for most contemporary Americans, or Westerners in general, for that matter.

Many, if not most, of those in our generation, and those immediately preceding and following us, tend to accept some sort of continuation of life following the death of the physical body as a given. That may be "cultural capital" from Christianity, or it may be an intuited sense of "the way things are, or must be." In either case, immortality is not a major concern for most folks these days, and people who have been exposed to a plethora of cultures and religions since childhood also tend to look askance at the limited/limiting criteria for entering into that afterlife, according to Christianity.

Things which classical Christianity has viewed as sins -- especially sexual and other personal sins, such as individual greed ("whoever dies with the most toys, wins") -- are very clearly not viewed as sins by most people today (again, for better or for worse), and my own opinion is that Christians can talk about them till we're blue in the face, and we're not gonna convince anybody who's not already predisposed to be convinced.

[That doesn't mean they're irrelevant, by a long shot. Christianity is at its best when it is addressing the many ways we fall short, as individuals, of being the kind of person most of us, in our heart-of hearts, know we could and should be. As author Thomas Cahill cogently pointed out, in his book How the Irish Saved Civiliation, "Saint Paul trumps Plato." In other words, whereas Plato idealistically insisted that those who truly know the Good will seek to act accordingly, Paul more realistically lamented that "the good which I would I do not, but the evil which I would not, that I do" (Romans 7:19, KJV).]

On the other hand, people are looking at things like global warming, pollution of the air and water on a massive scale, widespread species extinction, wars and the oppression of various peoples, corporate greed, and governmental corruption, and seeing that Christianity has little to say -- or little that it's been willing or able to say -- on those kinds of pressing issues, and are becoming understandably disillusioned. Christianity seems to be standing by and acquiescing -- and in some quarters (particularly evangelical protestant/fundamentalist quarters, although I know there are exceptions here), contributing moral support -- to the degradation and destruction of Creation.

I will never forget how appalled I was, and still am, at seeing a poster in my former church picturing the classic view of the Earth from space, with the legend, "Without Christ, it's just a vicious circle." That is, quite frankly, horse hockey -- it's simply not true, on several levels -- but it does an excellent job of encapsulating what is wrong with Christianity, in the minds of many Americans and other Westerners. I think there is an acute and growing sense that, in the words of the old song (was it by Crosby, Stills, and Nash?), "we've got to get ourselves back to the Garden." Otherwise, the human experiment itself might be doomed, and we're almost certain to take a lot of innocent species with us.

So, yes, I agree with Roland that the neolithic revolution -- for all its fascination, benefits, and promise -- undoubtedly was "'the event' that, more than any other, set mankind on a new trajectory that has led to alienation from God, our fellow creatures, and our own nature." The trick is figuring out how to overcome that alienation without a complete cultural, technological and societal collapse that returns a surviving remnant of humans, willy-nilly, to a hunter-gatherer mode of living! Christianity may be able to help in this process, but so far I have not seen a great deal of evidence that it is either willing or able to do so.

Insofar as the "job" of a religion or spiritual path is to give meaning, purpose, and direction to life, and to both express a proper relationship between God, humans, and their physical environment and to encourage/enable people to live into that relationship -- a not-unreasonable set of criteria, I would think -- Christianity has not failed to accomplish this end for contemporary humanity, but it is by-and-large failing, and will fail ever more catastrophically as environmental problems worsen, unless or until it is able to overcome its historical (and rather Gnostic) tendency to define humans as being both over and against the rest of Creation.

We may not want or be able to return to a hunter-gatherer mode of being (although that undoubtedly is the ideal, for humans -- the way of life which is most in keeping with our true natures), but unless we find some way to get "back to the Garden," in the sense of finding ways to live sustainably on this Earth, in communion with Nature and not in competition with her, and unless our spiritual paths assist and promote this transformation, we are probably more-or-less doomed.

As they say on the internet, "imho -- ymmv." *

http:www.abotech.com

* "in my humble opinion," "your mileage may vary."

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And as I added to another friend of mine, to whom I forwarded both pieces, Roland's and my own:

As far as attaining/maintaining our fullest humanness, I tend to believe that our "original," hunter-gatherer way of life was (and, where still possible, remains) the ideal. Agriculture is next in line, at least agriculture which is human-scaled and sustainable. Cities are pretty much on the other end of the spectrum. It's possible to be human in a city, it may even be possible to be fully human in a city (although I'm not totally convinced of that), but it requires an immense amount of effort, more often than not. Is it possible to reconstruct cities in more human/humane modes? Probably... but again, it's difficult, because you're fighting the very nature of the urban entity itself (see Dunbar's Number, a.k.a., the "Monkeysphere").

As the ol' rocker once said, "what a long, strange trip it's been..."

Giving up consumerism for lent (Column)

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, the first day of the Christian penitential season of Lent, as observed by Roman Catholics, Anglicans, and even many Protestants, although our Eastern Orthodox brothers and sisters began their Lent yesterday. For Western Christians, today is Shrove Tuesday, the past tense of a somewhat archaic English word ("shrive," past perfect "shriven") meaning to have confessed and been forgiven one's sins.

The forty days of Lent are traditionally a time of fasting -- abstaining from food, especially rich foods -- in penitence for one's past sins, for the grace to amend one's life, and in memory of the forty days Christ fasted in the wilderness. Therefore today is also sometimes called "Pancake Day" or "Doughnut Day," for the same reason that the French (including the Cajun French of Louisiana) call it Mardi Gras, literally "Fat Tuesday": making doughnuts or pancakes is a good way to use up all the fats and oils in the house, before the Lenten fast begins.

If you see a friend or neighbor with what looks like a smudge of dirt on their forehead tomorrow, Ash Wednesday, it is the mark of ashes, imposed by a priest or pastor in order that the recipient may "remember that thou art dust, and unto dust thou shalt return." It is a sober, and indeed salutary, reminder of our own mortality, and the fact that we don't have an unlimited amount of time to get our lives in order.

Traditionally, Lent has been largely about individual sins, whether of commission or of omission: "We have left undone those things that we ought to have done; and we have done those things that we ought not to have done, and there is no health in us," in the words of the traditional Anglican prayer of confession. But individual sins often manifest in ways that affect other people, or even the larger world, and it's to some of those that I'd like to direct our attention as we -- whether Christian or otherwise -- move into the season of Lent, the season of repentance.

To repent of something one has done is not just a matter of feeling sorry about it. It means to literally turn back or turn around, and proceed in a more positive direction. So you may consider this, if you like, a call to both individual and collective repentance.

I would like to call us, first of all, to repent of our pattern of consumerism, of conspicuous consumption, which the Christian tradition has historically named as "greed." Despite notable exceptions, many of us have internalized, to one degree or another, the absurd notion that "whoever dies with the most toys wins," a recipe for social inequity and environmental catastrophe. Consumerism is a good word for this, as we are consuming the world's resources -- many of them, like fossil fuels, irreplaceable in any kind of human timescale -- at a frightening rate.

Closely allied to this, and equally needful of repentance, is the arrogance of power which allows us to carelessly or callously exploit both other people and natural resources in our "climb to the top," whatever we consider the "top" to be. Striving is not a bad thing, nor is achievement. But they become damaging and hurtful when we pursue them to the extent that we forget to love our neighbors as ourselves, or to practice responsible stewardship of this Earth, our home.

Finally, I want to call us to repent of over-emphasizing those elements in our spiritual traditions which direct our attention primarily, even solely, to the next world, to the exclusion and even detriment of this one.

Expectation of a continued spiritual existence in a world to come, a belief common to most religions, can empower us to live more fully and hopefully in this one. But an excessive emphasis on our heavenly home which allows us to devalue, degrade, and damage our present, earthly one is, I believe, wrong-headed, dangerous, and even sinful. Just as Jesus said you cannot love God and hate your neighbor, so you cannot rightfully claim to love the Creator while doing violence to the creation.

And so, on this Shrove Tuesday, as you eat your pancakes or doughnuts and ponder how to observe the Lenten fast, I hope that you'll consider emphasizing simplicity over consumerism, humility over prideful ambition, and care for the good earth God has given us over an obsessive concern for the world to come. These thoughts in mind, I wish you a holy Lent.

Living on the Earth (Column: 1/2/07)

Our children are taught many things, in school and out of it, these days, but with rare exceptions, they're being taught little about how to live on this earth. Oh, sure, they're being taught -- formally and by immersion -- all about how to live in our contemporary techno-industrial society, but that is by no means the same thing.

In fact, our present society does not help us live on the earth; rather, it insulates us from the need to. It helps us to live off of the earth; that is, to exploit and subdue the natural world, to consume resources faster than natural processes can replenish them, but that is something entirely different from living on the earth.

In fact, in many ways, in our climate-controlled buildings and vehicles, our synthetic-fiber clothing, eating industrially-grown and processed food and drinking artificially flavored and sweetened drinks, we are like space aliens on our own planet. Destructive aliens, at that.

We are not the first human culture to exceed the carrying capacity of its environment; many fallen empires can be traced to this recurring human tendency. But we are the first to do so on a global level, and the implications of that are truly frightening. There is an old saying that goes, "if you want to dance, you have to pay the piper." We've been dancing at a dizzying rate in recent decades, and it's starting to look like payment's coming due.

This is reflected in the realization that global stocks of oil and natural gas are not inexhaustible, and are nearing -- if indeed they have not already reached -- the peak of their production, worldwide. Declines will surely follow. It is reflected in worsening weather conditions, melting glaciers, and other indications that the climate is out of whack, and that this is due in large measure to human activities.

It is reflected in phenomena like desertification, extended droughts, crop failures and famine abroad, and increasingly, wars or threats of wars over scarce water and fuel resources. Overpopulation in the developing world is part of the problem. But consumption overpopulation in the developed world, where each individual uses many times the energy used by people elsewhere, is an even bigger contributor to the current crisis.

Although the specifics are different in every case, the root cause seems the same: we have forgotten how to live on the earth, instead of living off of it. It's a lesson we must re-learn. Obviously, we can't become intimate with the entire earth; it's too big. But we can become deeply acquainted with our own particular piece of it: our own bioregion, as it is called. Here are some questions from "A Bioregional Quiz," available online, which can provide a sense of how well you know that portion of the earth on which you live:

Trace the water you drink from precipitation to tap.
From which direction do winter storms usually come in this area?
Where does your garbage go?
How long is the growing season in this area?
Identify five edible plants native to your area.

And here's a bonus question -- consider it extra credit: trace the runoff of rainwater, and the sediments and chemicals it carries, from your downspout or driveway to the Chesapeake Bay.

Now give yourself a grade: 5 right is a 100%; 4 right is 80%, 3 right is 60%, and so on. How well (or otherwise) did you score? If you got three questions or less correct, including the bonus, ask yourself: am I truly living here in Carroll County, or am I just happening to exist here, temporarily? And is that what I really want, for myself and my family? To be a visitor, a stranger, an alien?

Douglas Wood, writing in his book Fawn Island, said it well: “At rock bottom, either we belong here or we don't. Either the smell of crushed pine needles, forest breezes, sweet clover, rain, and moist earth is the smell of home or it is not… Either we identify with this world of tree and star, flower and desert, stone and water and belong to it or not... If not, we are essentially aliens, refugees on our own planet.”

Let's make it our resolution, this New Year, to overcome our alienation from our earthly home: to learn more about the bioregion in which we live, and how to live more lightly and respectfully within it, and on the earth itself. Our planet, and future generations, will thank us.