The Druid's Garden

Spiritual Journeys in Tending the Land, Permaculture, Wildcrafting, and Regenerative Living

Reparation and Healing the Land as part of American Druidry December 10, 2017

Sunrise over the land

Sunrise over the land

Two weeks ago, I talked about what American Druidry looks like. One of the big issues that came up in conversations here on the blog in the comments and also in the comments on the Druid’s Garden Facebook page was guilt from those of non-indigenous heritage. Guilt about the legacy of abuses against Native Americans in this country–a legacy that continues to this day. Guilt of being here on this land, knowing that many of us who are here now are here because of three centuries of genocide. Guilt about knowing that despite all that we may do now, this past bloodshed colors the way that we interact with the land, our relationships with the spirits of the land, and everything else we try to do to connect with the land and build sacredness.  In the last two weeks, I’ve heard how people feel the spirits of the land aren’t open to them because of this legacy, how they don’t even know what to do to begin to rectify it, or they don’t think they have a right to do anything to the land, or how they are afraid to act because they might do more damage. For some people, these feelings of guilt are literally preventing them from doing much of anything because they don’t feel they have a right to the land. I’m glad we are having these conversations, and I think these are the start of understanding a way forward.  This week, I want to more deeply share my perspective.  That is, I want to talk about moving beyond guilt and doing reparations: the work of repair.

 

The Right to Speak?

These kinds of conversations can be difficult, especially today, and there’s a lot of question about who even has the right to speak on a topic. Before I begin this conversation, therefore, it is useful to know who I am. I’m a druid, and I have been walking this path for over a decade. I’m a permaculture designer, an herbalist, an whimsical artist, a land healer, a teacher of many things.  But maybe when we say”who I am” what we mean is what blood I carry. On one side of my family, I am a fourth generation descendant of Irish immigrants who came to the US after the potato famine forced many farmers to leave Ireland. These proud Irish came, settled here in Western PA, and mined coal. On the other side, my family has a very…colorful past. We have in the same generation (mingled in later bloodlines) a very well-known historical figure, a prominent general, who successfully defeated the Native Americans on their own soil and slaughtered thousands in his lifetime. We also have Shawnee man of whom little is known (as it is a taboo topic to the older generations in my family, but DNA records demonstrate that this “unmentionable fact” is true). We also have Pennsylvania Dutch (that is, PA German) ancestry. This pretty much makes me a mutt with direct ancestral ties both to this land and the bloodshed that happened. Does this mixed ancestry give me the “right” to speak on this issue? I have no idea, but at least, now you know where I’m coming from and can evaluate what I say based on that, if such things matter.

 

To me, my own ancestry or what my ancestors did or didn’t do isn’t as important as the work I do today. What was done before me were other people’s lives, decisions, and choices.  I live in the shadow of those choices, and I certainly have to deal with them, but I can’t change the decisions of my ancestors or others here that caused these things to happen. I can’t change the bloodshed that was caused by General George Custer and his contemporaries.  I can’t change the pillaging of the Allegheny Mountains for coal, steel, and iron. I can’t change the past. The only power I have is the work I can do in the present.  I think that this is the best response I can have: to help repair the damage that was done, to help put balm on these centuries-old wounds, and to rebuild my own relationship with the land. And so, I focus my energies on that work, rather than lamenting the past or my ancestors’ place in it.

 

The Work of Repair

When we hear the term “reparations”, most frequently in the US it is tied to discussions and activism surrounding the monetary compensation for past horrible crimes (genocide, slavery, war crimes, etc).  But this term has a lot of meanings, and its useful to explore those, especially in the context of nature spirituality on American soil.

 

Merriam Webster’s is a good place to start to think about this term and what it can offer us:

  • 1 a : repairing or keeping in repair
    • b reparations plural : repairs
  • 2 a : the act of making amends, offering expiation, or giving satisfaction for a wrong or injury
    • b : something done or given as amends or satisfaction
  • 3 : the payment of damages : indemnification; specifically : compensation in money or materials payable by a defeated nation for damages to or expenditures sustained by another nation as a result of hostilities with the defeated nation usually used in plural

All three of these definitions give us something to consider in terms of the work of repair.   We do need to be active in the tending of the land (definition 1a-b).  We also do need to make amends for the wrong or injury that has been done to the land and her peoples.  And finally, we do need to find some way of compensating those who have been wronged.  And unlike ancestors’ actions and the choices of past generations, which is inherently disempowering and makes us feel bad without anything to be done, the work of repair offers us the ability to actively engage in this work today.

 

A Framework for Repair: Nurturing, Care, and Peace

On this blog, I’ve long talked about three ideas that I think offer us a framework for the work of repair: shifting from exploitative practices to nurturing ones, the permaculture ethical system of care, and peace-making as a spiritual practice.  My long-term readers will recognize the currents that run into this conversation, but I’ll also summarize for those of you newer to the blog:

 

First, Wendell Berry’s Unsettling of America, in the opening chapters, Berry describes two orientations toward the land: that of the exploiter and that of the nurturer.  He describes the exploiter as the agribusiness person who seeks to extract as many resources as possible from the land for profit.  We might easily point to any number of colonizing activities, stealing land from native peoples, pillaging natural resources, fossil fuel extraction activities, mountaintop removal, etc.  In other words, he describes the behaviors and activities and unfortunate cultural heritage of the present day United States, a cultural heritage that each of us have inherited.  The nurturer, by comparison, is a small family farmer in Berry’s estimation, someone who is as much concerned with the health of the land as he/she is with its productivity.  The nurturer, then, makes care a primary concern and thinks not only about what is taken now, but how those actions impact the health of the land and her people.

 

Expanding on this notion of care, the permaculture ethical system offers us further tools.  The ethics of people care, earth care, fair share, and self care are interwoven: to care for the land is to care for the people, to take one’s fair share is inherently to care for self and others, and so on.  The point here is care as a primary virtue. Within permaculture is the idea that humans can be a force of good.

 

Huglekultur Beds (another form of repair work)

Huglekultur Beds (another form of repair work)

This leads me to the third thing: we can tie care and nurturing directly to the work of druidry through the tradition’s emphasis on peace, the work of reciprocation, and the work of honoring the spirits.  I think this is critical: its not just that the land is somehow under our care, but that we are in direct relationship with it.  Its a deep reverence and respect that druidry offers this conversation–the work of peace.

The Work of Repair

In my experience, it is necessary to show the spirits of the land that I’m a different kind of human: the last four centuries, particularly on the East Coast of the US where I live, have primarily involved people who look like me pillaging the land.  When I walk into the woods or enter any other natural place, how do the spirits know I’m a different kind of human?  Certainly not by what I say–the cultural legacy of the US has shown, time and time again, how words can’t be trusted.  No, the spirits of the land will know me based on my actions: what I do, directly, to care for the land and engage in the work of repair.   It is through this work, I believe, that I have continued to develop a very deep relationship with the spirits of my landscape, of the Allegheny Mountains, and of many other places that I have visited.

 

And I’m not just talking about doing ritual in the woods.  I think that doing rituals and that kind of land healing work is critically important (and I’ve advocated for it myself, led large group rituals, etc). But rather, I’m talking about the physical labor of helping to plant trees, heal land, clean up trash, reseed the landscape, etc.  And so, what I believe the work of repair is work that is:

 

  • both psychical and energetic in nature
  • offers healing and strengthening to the land
  • puts the land in better physical shape than it was found (i.e. engages in activity that directly speeds the healing of the land; such as many permaculture techniques)
  • offers these actions from a fundamental place of care, nurturing, and mutality

 

I can’t sit here and tell you what you should be doing to do the work of repair. Each of us has to find our own way forward with this work given our limitations and resources–but the above philosophies and orientations and the above definition can certainly help put you in the framework for the repair work.  What I can do, though, is tell you a bit about some of the things I’ve been doing and how that fits the above framework.   I’ve talked a ton about energetic repair already through my long land healing series from last year, so I’m going to now give some physical repair examples.

 

Some Examples of Repair

I wanted to share three recent examples of the work of repair work that will heal and strengthen not only the land here, but my physical connection to the land.

 

Countering Black Friday with Tree Planting

Some of the trees planted!

Some of the trees planted!

I think Black Friday is the most horrific day of the year, it is an anti-holiday that pays homage to mass consumption and cycles of waste.  I went out once when I was 17, and have never participated in it since then.  And so, to counter the consumerist frenzy that takes place on Black Friday, I always like to do something in line with people care, earth care, or fair share on that day.  I think this is a wonderful way to show the spirits of the land that you are a different kind of human and reject the lure of consumption.

 

This past Black Friday, a friend and I planted 45 trees on my new property.  Earlier on this blog I mentioned how the land here has been timbered four times in forty years, and how I was working with the spirits of the land here to help heal.  As part of that work, I have been working to replant the forest–both with seeds as well as with small trees.  After consulting with the spirits, we’ve decided to try to bring this forest back to something more akin to what it would have been before my white ancestors arrived: in PA, that’s about 33% chestnut with other hardwood nut trees and an understory of PawPaw, Elder, Spicebush, and more.  And that’s exactly what I worked to plant: 25 chestnuts, 20 paw paws, and a few other assorted nut and fruit trees (persimmon, hazel, and, to anticipate more climate change, Pecan).

 

It was a long day of backbreaking labor, but at the end, it was a day well spent.  Rather than engaging in activities that took from the land (through the manufacture of consumer goods, the spending of fossil fuels to visit stores, etc), I used only my own human energy to move trees, move compost, plant the trees, and more. After that day, each day, I walk out on the land and see the many blue tree tubes and smile with joy.  And since then, I’ve also done ritual to support their growth and health.  The spirits of the land are happy that this kind of work is happening here, and that brings me into a closer relationship with them.

 

Waste as a Resource: Humanure Composting

The Druid's Garden beautiful composting toilet! :)

The Druid’s Garden beautiful composting toilet! 🙂

Last year, I wrote about Humanure composting and shared my design for a humanure toilet (modeled after the “Lovable Loo” design from the Humanure Handbook).  In that post, I described why people compost their waste and how to do it.  I have continued to engage in this practice and I believe it is a wonderful way of engaging in repair work.  I have decided to compost down and then return all of my own waste to the wild areas on my land since so much had been taken from them with regards to logging.  I find that this brings me back into cycle with the land and honors the land by putting resources back (rather than sending them “away” to mix with municipal septic systems). One of the things I’m doing now that I’m on my new land is to take this a step further by switching my cats from a clay-based litter to a wood based litter (made of recycled waste wood).  Once this proves successful, I will also compost all of their waste in their own compost bin, and again, after two years of composting, return those resources to the land. The point here is simple: what my household eats (my household being myself and my two cats) is taken from the land and therefore, in any form, should be returned to it.  That’s the work of care and nurturing, and that brings balance.

 

Sheet Mulch, Lawn Liberation, and Web Soil Repair

A final way that I’ve long engaged in the work of repair is cultivating a healthy soil web and replacing lawns with gardens of all kinds.  As I’ve discussed before, the lawn is a site of consumption: it does not offer a healthy ecosystem, it does not offer food or forage to wildlife, and it certainly is not healthy from the perspective of nature.  Developing gardens (for wildlife and humans) and converting lawns into other things is inherently repair work.  It repairs not only the relationship between the spirits of the land and the human, but also helps repair the human’s spirit.

 

There are lots of ways to do this: a common one is through sheet mulching (which I wrote about here and here).  You simply add a weeds suppression layer (cardboard most often) and then layer on organic matter (fall leaves, manure, finished compost, wood chips–many things that other people see as “waste” and leave on the side of the road for you to pick up).  This takes away the grass and immediately gives you a good growing media. This isn’t the only technique to do this (I’ll be talking about another–hugelkultur–in an upcoming blog post) but it is certainly a great one to get started!

Sheet mulching at Sirius Ecovillage

Sheet mulching at Sirius Ecovillage

 

Supporting Native Peoples

I also want to talk about people care here before I conclude today’s post. There are no longer tribes of native peoples where I live; all that is left of them are the place names that once represented them. However, in other parts of the US, primarily out west, we certainly do have many native peoples still actively fighting for the rights of the land, the water, and their sovereignty and dignity as people.   Further, we have indigenous people all over the world who also are fighting similar battles.  And if we care about the work of repair, we also have to care about–and fight for–them. I think part of the work of repair can also be supporting native peoples: writing letters to representatives, offering monetary donations to causes, and being informed on what the issues are and how you can help.

 

Closing

I hope that this post has given you some food for thought in terms of how we might continue to shape a distinctly American Druidry through the work of repair. The work in this post, I believe, is necessary if we are to deepen our own connection to the land and her spirits, but also work to get beyond the guilt of the past and work to actively remedy, as much as we are able, the wrongs that have been done.   It is through this deep work that I believe we can cultivate deep–rather than surface–relationships with the land and especially with the spirits of the land, those who have been here for millennia.

 

I also want to conclude by saying that I am under no illusion that the work I’ve outlined here is enough to repair all of these old wounds. I believe that that the full work of repair will take generations of people.  But what I do believe is that someone has to pick up that work and start doing it, and that someone can be me–and perhaps you as well!

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Lessons of the River: Nature Connection, Health, and Healing April 23, 2017

Sometimes, natural places call out to us, and we heed their call and journey within these wild places–often gaining profound insights along the way. For some time, I have been called to a particular creek. I would drive over a bridge as I was leaving town to visit my parents, and I watched the creek flow–its gentle water lapping at the shores, ducks swimming, stones and water babbling. I didn’t know the name of the creek, but I knew I wanted to connect with it. Then, one day after a storm last year, I saw some people kayaking on it when it was higher and a bit muddy.  Having just purchased my own kayak, I grew very excited and began asking people about the creek. Eventually, I learned where I might put my kayak in and where I might take it out, resulting in about a six mile paddling trip.

 

A beautiful and warm spring day on a clean river!

A beautiful and warm spring day on a clean river!

Truthfully, the whole journey was a bit of a leap of faith–I had talked to others who had been out on the creek sometime before, but it had been in prior years, and I knew conditions often change. I have a very good kayak that can handle just about anything and have taken some lessons and training to address emergencies, and this was known as a calm and quiet river. I packed some supplies and did a small ritual to protect the boat and off I went. This particular trip offered me several deep insights–but one I’d like to explore today is humans connecting to nature and land/river health (and I think this is a very appropriate post following up from last week exploring Connection as the Core Spiritual Philosophy in the Druid Tradition).

 

The start of my journey was absolutely incredible–the water was pure, the scenery was beautiful. I could see evidence of many people’s interaction with the creek: in a quiet forest you could see benches lining the river, I saw several fishermen was fishing for trout, I saw bikers by the river taking a short break to enjoy the water, and even at one point, I passed a lovingly built small cabin the creek. I could tell from these signs that the river was well loved and appreciated by many in the area, even in some of its more hard-to-reach and secret places.

 

Miles passed in this serene way. I enjoyed my journey immensely and it allowed me to see so much life.  As I came closer to Homer City, which was the town where I had parked my car and was traveling to my “pull out” place, I turned a bend and saw this waterfall rushing into the creek. From a distance, it looked beautiful–I was excited to get up close. But as I started to get closer, something about that waterfall appeared very, very wrong. As I arrived near it, I realized that the waterfall was full of acid mine drainage (AMD), and it had bright yellows, oranges, and metallic spots all over the rocks and was pouring extremely acidic water (probably about a PH 2.5) into that creek.  Later investigation revealed that this particular stream–quite small–is coming out of a series of abandoned mines some 3 or so miles north with no AMD remediation.

 

AMD Waterfall - note the color of water change

AMD Waterfall – note the color of water change

Where the waterfall fell into the creek, the hue of the river changed–it grew cloudy and sickly pale yellow.  The waterfall left this cloudy trail in the water, a very distinct change from before. At first, only the edge of the river where the waterfall was running in was polluted, but as I went down the last mile of the creek, soon, it all took on that color.  Truthfully, as soon as I saw the waterfall and what was happening, I didn’t want to be on that river any longer–I racked my brain to see if I had a place I could pull out of the river early and call a friend to pick me up instead of paddling back to my car. But I decided to go ahead and finish my journey because there was clearly a lesson to see in all of this.

 

In fact, not so many years ago, this entire creek had once been filled with AMD. Acid mine drainage is a very serious issue anywhere where we’ve had coal mines. The earth’s blood and bones are torn up, and in the process, she bleeds, and that pain spills into our rivers. In this area, we have thousands and thousands of abandoned coal mines.  Most of these mines were put in prior to the laws of 1970 that required that mines clean themselves up, prevent runoff into streams, and replant the land. So we have a lot of problem mines that are from pre-1970 that are continually polluting the streams (in fact, this problem can go on for 1000’s of years–some mine runoff in Europe spans back to the time of the Romans!) Around here, due to the high acid content , AMD kills all of the life in and around streams.  The stream has a characteristic orange color, with all of the stones also turned orange and the water itself orange, cloudy, and toxic. In Pennsylvania alone, we have over 3000 miles of AMD-polluted creeks.  They are so prevalent in my area that when I was child, we had so many creeks and streams like that I thought that’s just how all waterways looked.

 

A typical AMD stream with no life

A typical AMD stream with no life

What I didn’t know was that all of Two Lick Creek that I was paddling had similar problems at one time. However, local conservation efforts by several groups have made good headway in the northern part of the river. One a group called the Evergreen Conservancy has been working to clean up one site nearby–and their efforts show!  The other (where I put my kayak in) is the Waterworks Park, that offers an AMD remediation site and wetland. Without the signage indicating that AMD remediation was happening at the Waterworks Park, I would never have known that the northern part Two Lick Creek had ever had an AMD problem.  The creek banks were beautiful, the creek itself full of life and vibrant.  This speaks, among other things, to the power of humans to heal.

 

And so, I simply observed what the AMD waterfall was doing to Two Lick Creek.  The environmental effects were clear.  As I continued to float downstream, the rocks grew tainted and orange, the river grew cloudy and I could no longer see the bottom.  As the river flowed, the tainted water slowly worked its way into the creek–and entire water grew cloudy and the rocks took on an orangish hue.  It wasn’t a serious case of AMD (like my photo above, another creek that nobody interacts with).  Still, nobody was fishing here, that’s for sure.

 

However, the environmental effect wasn’t the most surprising thing on the river that day, instead it was the shift in human-nature interactions. As I floated past the AMD waterfall, I witnessed an invisible “line.”  North of the AMD waterfall, people interacted with the river. They had chairs out behind their houses by it, they had benches, they had little docks, they were out fishing and enjoying the river, and so on. However, after the AMD waterfall, people no longer wanted to be near the river, and they worked to distance themselves from it.  The difference was very striking. People put up fences and walls, dumped their garbage and burn piles near the river, and simply didn’t not go near it.  It became a neglected thing. Despite the same kinds of houses and people and access to the river upstream and downstream, after the river had AMD, it was no longer wanted or desirable. I realized that it wasn’t just that the waterfall tainted the physical water in the river–it also tainted people’s interactions with it.  Pollution literally disconnected humans from nature.

 

In other words, even a small amount of pollution turned the river from something people cared about to something people didn’t.  It turned the river into a site of enjoyment and connection with nature to something to avoid looking at or interacting with.

Upstream: clear, pure, and human connected

Upstream: clear, pure, and human connected (and you can see clear to the bottom–and avoid the rocks!)

 

AMD water...

Downstream: Cloudy, Irony, and human disconnected…(and it’s hard to see to the bottom, and thus, you hit the rocks)

I wonder how often this happens. As lands are polluted or damaged, people no longer want to interact with them.  When people stop caring, stop interacting, even more pollution is allowed to occur.  The pollution itself disconnects us from the land and the more polluted things get, the less we want to interact. Even I, as a druid and land healer, a person who has long faced these things with open eyes and an open heart, had a first reaction of wanting out of that river as soon as I saw what had happened to it.

 

You can see how we have come to the point, in this time of so much pollution and damage, to where people aren’t in nature at all. Why would you want to spend time next to (or on) a polluted river? In a logged forest? Hiking among fracking wells?  (Only crazy druid healers do such things, that that’s spiritual work, not leisure!)  If that’s the only options you have, it is no wonder so many humans are so disconnected.

 

I am left with two profound insights from this experience. First, the work of land healing has an additional dimension that I had previously not realized.  Just like in the permaculture ethical triad of earth care, people care, and fair share: we see these things all entirely linked with the others.  If we can restore nature to a state of health and allow her to thrive, we can help heal not only the land, but the human-land connections (and in doing so, the humans themselves). This allows more interaction with the land, more connection with the land, and helps us grow more “places that people care about.” To me, care and nurturing is an essential quality of helping us, as a species, return to being in a positive and mutually beneficial relationship with nature.  And so, if we heal nature, we can start to heal those connections.

 

But secondly, if we see ourselves and our work as a metaphor for a river, we can gain insights. In journeying down the river, you get to see the growth of the river over time. As each spring or stream flowed into the river, the river’s power and size grew. The creek began, at the start of my journey, about 15 feet across, and by the time I pulled my kayak out of the water 6 miles later, it was spanning 30 or 40 feet. The small “creek” had grown into a river with power, carving out rock faces as it went.  And so, I see the tributaries as people, and all of us, combined as one, could accomplish much more than a single spring or trickle. There is power in these combined currents, just as there is power in numbers of people working together. This is something that I’ve been learning firsthand since taking the first steps to establishing our intentional community here–but also something that I’ve long seen the value of in various kinds of sustainable living (like permablitzes, barn raising or community groups).

 

As much as we, collectively, are the river, we also need to look for the sources of pollution–those things or people that will cloud us and prevent us from being our true and whole selves.  Otherwise, our entire river can become tainted, just like the AMD tainted this river–and that changes everything.  Tainted waterways can be remediated, of course, and perhaps, there are more lessons in this as well.

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Ethical Sourcing of Medicinal Plants: The Case for American Ginseng March 19, 2017

American Ginseng plant in spring

American Ginseng plant in spring

Stalking the Wild Ginseng

When I was a child, my grandfather picked wild American Ginseng (Panax quinquefolius). I remember him talking about it, and seeing it, and him sharing with me what it looked like. To him, ginseng wasn’t a profitable plant to be harvested and sold, but rather a local medicine that simply helped raise one’s energy.  For him, health was a serious issue as he had spent his whole life in a steel mill. This American Ginseng was family medicine, ancestral medicine, the medicine growing where we lived. As in many things in childhood, this memory faded away until I took up the practice of herbalism in my adult life.

 

When I first became an herbalist, I hoped I could reconnect with wild ginseng and seek it out. I knew the general area that grandfather had found it in. I had no plans of picking it (knowing that it is severely endangered and on the United Plant Saver’s list). I simply wanted to meet this plant, this beautiful and hugely medicinal plant native to the mountains of my blood and birth. What I thought would be a quick search turned into a year, and that year turned into multiple years of searching. I expanded my search to many other locales in the Appalachians, always, seemingly on the hunt for the wild ginseng. I had mentioned my interest in finding Ginseng offhand one day to my father, and he said he hadn’t found any either. As the years went by, I kept looking, but not with the enthusiasm I had before.

 

An Ethical Dilemma

Beautiful wild american ginseng plant

Beautiful wild American Ginseng plant

The lack of wild ginseng in any local forest really  began shifting something for me–I began to be struck not only by what is here but what is missing, especially with regards to medicinal plants within their native range and native ecosystem (this is part of what prompted my wildtending series of posts last year). The experience saddened my heart and resonated deep within me. If I couldn’t find ginseng after so many years of searching, I had no business using it. Any other choice created additional demand. This meant that I was going to entirely avoid using the American Ginseng plant (and by proxy, most of the other rare woodland species also identified by the United Plant Savers: Blue Cohosh, Black Cohosh, Bloodroot, and Goldenseal).  I wouldn’t’ recommend them, I wouldn’t use them, I wouldn’t teach them, and I would just “let them be” if they were to be found at all. I also grew skeptical of the “wildharvested” label for what it implied.

 

Truthfully, I think a lot of us interested in medicinal plants take this “avoidance” approach, which seems completely reasonable. Because these medicinal plants are so endangered, the best thing we can do is avoid using them, let them be in the wild, and not put any increasing demand upon critical species. To use these plants, to source them, or to harvest them ourselves presents us with serious ethical dilemmas.  But what I didn’t understand at the time was that this was not an either-or situation–there were some third options, and they are pretty good ones.

 

The Wild Ginseng Patch

A few years ago, my father, with a gleam in his eye, invited me back into those same woods where I had originally sought out the American Ginseng. He showed me his carefully planted patches of Ginseng roots and Ginseng seeds, little plots with sticks around them so he knew where they were.  He pointed out their little red berries which he also carefully harvested and replanted deeper in the woods.

 

In their third year of growth, some of the Ginseng Dad was growing developed a kind of root rot, so we harvested them, and drank some of the most uplifting and amazing tea you could imagine. My mother, who suffers from multiple sclerosis, shared how much better the tea made her feel. And these were the effects that pushed so many people, around the globe, to seek out ginseng for its health benefits. This was, honestly, the first time I had ever had consumed any ginseng and it was incredible. And it was ethically sourced, growing right there on the family homestead!

 

Then, recently, I attended a wonderful workshop at the 2016 American Herbalist Guild Symposium put on botanist  Dr. Eric Burkhart from Penn State University. Eric specializes in these under duress Appalachian woodland species, particularly, American Ginseng. At the beginning of his talk, he asked us how many of us used American Ginseng in our practices (and of a room full of 60 people, only 2 folks in the room did). When he asked, everyone shared reasons similar to mine above: they knew it was endangered, they didn’t want to create more demand, and so on.  And he offered us some rationale and alternatives.

 

One of Dad's Many Ginseng Patches

One of Dad’s Ginseng patches

What these two experiences did for me was offer to turn this binary into a ternary, allow me to have a more complex and nuanced understanding of the role of these herbs.  Two experiences changed and deepened my “avoidance” perspective and encouraged me to see this from a permaculturist’s lens through “the problem is the solution” and the permaculture ethics.

 

Behind the “Wild Harvested” Label

When people buy herbs, a “wild harvested” label is often desirable, yet, it has a very dark side. When it comes to American Ginseng, the wild harvesting is literally stripping the plant from our landscape. Currently, there is no policing being done on wild harvesting. Eric Burkhart showed us screenshots from Facebook groups that show people harvesting–not only harvesting the wrong plants or look-alikes (in the case of Black Cohosh) but also reporting harvesting 100% of what they find. And with prices running hundreds of dollars a pound for American ginseng, a 100% harvest might be the difference between paying the mortgage or not for folks that have little other opportunities for income. Companies, regionally, pay top dollar to ship our American Ginseng overseas primarily to Asian markets. Here in Appalachia, we have an unfortunately long history of land abuse; it is to the point that stripping the land for profit is so common that other perspectives are simply not in the cultural consciousness. While there are likely some ethical harvesters out there, I don’t think there are many. And we have no way of knowing the origins of those “wild harvested” plants–there is a level of invisibility in these practices that makes me extremely and deeply uncomfortable.

 

Since nearly all of these woodland medicinals are root-based and very slow to propagate, harvesting all of the roots means that the population of those plants is eradicated from that part of the landscape.  Keep doing this, and we end up not having any left–which is about where we are at present, at least in the area where I live. I’ll briefly mention that previous cultures who depended on wild populations of plants, nuts, roots, berries, etc, worked hard to manage the health of those lands in the long term; to nurture them.

 

This isn’t to say all wild harvesting is problematic–but I believe much of it is. There are many abundant plants that can be sustainably wild harvested (like goldenrod), carefully and with care.  This is especially true if, as I’ve argued in this blog at multiple points, we give as more than we get–we combine wild harvesting with wild tending (that is, scattering seeds, sustainably harvesting only a little, and giving more back to the land than is taken).  In fact, given the dire state many of our lands are in, I would suggest spending 75% or more of our efforts on replanting and wild tending and 25% of our efforts on harvesting as an ethical choice (but that’s an argument for a different post). Right now, I don’t think that’s what’s happening with a lot of plants, and so, the wild harvest label offers a lot of hidden problems–especially for root crops like American Ginseng.

 

Avoiding the Problem is also a Problem

The avoidance problem, however, creates distance. It certainly did for me–I didn’t want to use these plants, but that also meant that I wasn’t cultivating a relationship with them. And I strongly believe that the key to responding ethically to the crisis of our present age, is in connection. As a druid who has helped others along their own spiritual paths, and as a human just living in this world, one thing is obvious to me: humans protect and value things that are of most use and sacredness to them. I’ve seen this in my plant walks–when I teach people about eating Autumn Olives or make wine from Dandelions for example, it completely changes their perspective. They go from being rather neutral about this abundant shrub or “weed” to being excited to see it, seeking it out, and enjoying its bounty.  The problem, of course, comes in with our rare woodland medicinals–we don’t want people necessarily seeking it out and using it in the wild, especially on public lands where hundreds of people might be coming through. But we do want to build connection and value.

 

The American Ginseng is ancestral medicine, it is powerful medicine that folks here aren’t even using. As Burkhart explained in his talk, nearly 90% of what is harvested leaves domestic markets bound for Asia. We aren’t even using the medicine of our own lands. So not only do we have a resource that we ourselves do not use, and know nothing about, it is being used by people far away who have no idea of the environmental toll that this is creating.

 

I don’t think we can honor these plants through avoidance.  And we certainly can’t honor them if they aren’t part of our lives because they no longer exist in our ecosystems. How do we turn this problem into a solution, ethically, and with a nurturing mindset?

 

Cultivating Relationships and Connections

I think we are seeing the same kind of problem with rare woodland medicinal species that we are with a lot of other things: a good example is the meat/vegetarian debate.  Factory farming is very bad and causes considerable harm and suffering.  People solve this dilemma by going vegetarian, and that seems to be a binary choice: vegetarian or not. However, there are other options: raising meat yourself, working with farmers whose practices are nurturing, sustainable, and ethical, and maybe eating only a little meat rather than meat every day. These alternatives offer not one response (to consume or not to consume) but a range of responses (to raise oneself, to purchase from ethical farmers, to limit consumption).  We can apply this exact same thinking to our rare woodland medicinal herbs.

 

Reciprocation and Wildtending. This brings me back to the example of my father–there was no Ginseng to be found, and we both knew it, so he ethically sourced roots and seeds from a PA sustainable farm (see below) and then started growing it. And now, my family has a small supply that is sacred to us, and that we can use understanding full well exactly what it takes to grow, how long it develops, and so on.  We can manage the population in our own woods and make sure it is growing. For more on this, a great resource is a wonderful book (that I recently gifted my father) called Farming the Woods: An Integrated Permaculture Approach to Growing Food and Medicinals in Temperate Forests by Mudge, Gabriel, and Munsell. It offers a holistic view of how to cultivate and grow these sacred plants. I love this approach because it encourages both wild tending and helps us to balance those scales.  But it also encourages us to cultivate a very deep and responsible use of these plants and re-establish connection.

 

“Forest Grown” Herbs Initiative. A second option is to support those who are growing it ethically, to pay a fair price to those folks, and to learn how to use this sacred medicine responsibly.  (By that, I mean extracting as a tincture and maximizing the benefit of these roots.) A recent initiative by United Plant Savers and Mountain Rose Herbs has led to the offering of “forest grown” Ginseng (available here).  The Forest Grown Ginseng is grown without chemicals in forested settings where an emphasis is on the long-term health of the forest–using permaculture design and agroforestry at it’s best. These farmers do not stripping the land bare with wild harvesting–rather, this is a crop, along with others, that is cultivated in a forest setting, focusing on the health and overall welfare of the forest as an ecosystem. If we can create a market for these kinds of plants grown in healthful and nurturing ways, we can make sure more forest lands are used, and we can help put a stop to the wild harvesting/stripping bare practices we are seeing with regards to American Ginseng. Another issue here is that scarcity drives up the price; if more people are cultivating ginseng through the forest grown initiative, it makes it more affordable.  Agroforestry has incredible potential to leave our forest ecosystems intact and gain valuable harvests (shitake mushrooms, American Ginseeng, among others).

 

Education.  The problem with going to an herb catalog, or purchasing a powdered herb or tincture in a health food store, is that the origins and practices that produced that thing are completely invisible.  And so, education and researching each plant and each company is key. Research the company who is producing it, research their sourcing–if the information isn’t clear, ask good questions. If possible, eliminate as many “middle men” along the chain and purchase what you need to purchase directly from small family farms or herbalists. I think that education can go a long way to helping us rebuild our own health and the health of our lands.

 

Fair Share, People Care, Earth Care

With these alternative approaches, responsibility and connection are at the core of these practices.  For one, the scarcity of the roots, and the amount of effort or funds it takes to purchase or grow them, means that we will treat them as the sacred medicine that they are, using them fully and effectively as possible with no waste. What I like so much about this expanded understanding is that it aligns so beautifully with the practice of permaculture design.  In permaculture, the ethics ask us to consider how to care for the earth, care for its people, and engage in fair share all at the same time.  These two alternatives do this: we can have powerful medicine that cares for people, use it ethically, and heal the land while doing so.  We can cultivate deeper relationships with the living earth in all that we do.  We can rebuild connections with the sacred medicines native to our region while protecting them for future generations and honoring them through all things.

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The Giving Garden: A Permaculture Design Site in the Making October 9, 2016

“We grow where we are planted.” This is the theme of a conversation on an earlier post from this year. All of us have the opportunity to do regenerative work in the world, in the spaces and places we already inhabit.  I want to offer examples of “growing where we are planted” when I am able–and today, I have an inspirational story of a new permaculture site in the making in my hometown.  We can see the permaculture principles at work, which makes a great continuation last week’s post.  Further, this post also will provide some additional ideas and suggestions for those who find themselves practicing sustainable living in apartments, cities, or other urban settings.

 

The Dust Settles: Opportunities for Transformation and Growth

I met a friend who recently moved into a building in in the downtown area of Indiana, PA. Trinity has owned this building for some time, but only recently began living there due to some challenging and changing life circumstances. Despite being in the building for only several months, she is already doing great work in terms of urban permaculture. Trinity’s long-term goals include the creation of a space to go, learn, create, and learn, both bardic arts as well as regenerative living.

 

Trinity is the second woman I’ve featured on this blog that has had major life changes lead to a new permaculture design site. Its interesting how some of the best things in life happen when we are overturned, unsettled, or otherwise stirred up from our comfortable places of being and inhabiting.  I’ve certainly understood that feeling well myself, especially in the last few years.  To use the metaphor from the Tarot, the tower crashes down, and once the dust settles, we can clear the rubble and build something new and better. Who wants a tower anyways? What about a rooftop or front yard garden? What about a giving tree?

 

This principle–of letting go and rebuilding–is a powerful lesson about the interplay between the power of doing good in the world and that of alchemy and personal transformation.  Our lives rarely go as we expect, and sometimes, a lot of difficult things happen to us in a very short period of time. We are left responding in whatever way we can–often, that means, physically moving somewhere new, leaving the beautiful homesteads and farms behind, and finding places to heal. What amazes me is the power of the human spirit to overcome personal difficulty and use it as a creative and regenerative force for good.  There is a powerful lesson in this for all of us–one, in my opinion, of the most important ones I know.  That we will face tragedy and challenge is part of being human.  What we do with that, how we transform it, what we build and grow from it, is what makes us shine.  So let’s spend some time with the bright light that is Trinity, and the space she is creating!

 

The Giving Garden: Use the Edges, Engage the Community

Trinity has no access to soil; rather, her building is on a main street, shares walls with adjacent buildings, and has concrete or brick on all four sides. Despite these challenges, she has rose to the occasion, “greening” the concrete, growing vegetables in nooks and crannies, and beginning many transformations. I’m excited to follow her journey here and see how her space develops. I think that her work can be inspirational to many of use who are living in very limited circumstances, be those financial, space-wise, and more.

 

One of the first things Trinity wanted to do was to bring a sanctuary space to the otherwise barren concrete of our downtown area. Earlier in this year, most of the trees on main street were cut down to do some road work, and the downtown has been looking very sad and sparse since.  Truthfully, I don’t even like walking downtown any longer since so many of the trees are gone. Trinity still does have a tree near her building on her street, but the adjacent street is completely barren.

 

Trinity has brought nature beautifully back into the space with the “Giving Garden.” Suddenly, as you walk, along the street is a burst of flowers, beauty, greenery; a space to sit, to enjoy some veggies, and to respond on a chalkboard to a regularly changing prompt.  We’ll first take a stroll through the giving garden, exploring it through photographs and exploring the different permaculture principles as well as common sense principles.

View from 6th Street!

View from 6th Street!

One of the keys to successfully creating publicly visible spaces (front lawn gardens, etc) is making sure they are beautiful, interesting, and pleasing to the eye. I wrote about this extensively in my discussion of Linda’s Nature’s Harvest Urban Permaculture Farm.  It doesn’t matter how functional it is–if people can see it, it needs to “look nice” and not be “overgrown” as that is associated with distending.  (This whole issue deserves its own treatment at some point–> the cultural assumption is that if we let nature grow unchecked, it is assumed that we no longer care for it!)  And so, Trinity has done a smart thing with not only growing some vegetables and herbs, but doing so in  way that draws people in.  Trinity has put a lovely invitation on the wall, letting people know how the space can be used and shared.

Invitation to share the space

Invitation to share the space

Trinity’s 30′ or so of frontage offers just sidewalk; and so to grow things, Trinity had to bring in soil, create beds, and build the space from scratch. Part of her design includes made many little “niches” in the space, creating a variety of different ways for passerby to interact. Here’s one such niche–a set of vines growing from foraged forest sticks as trellises.  This is not only visually pleasing but also offers free food (squash and beans) and enacts the permaculture principles of layered purposes and using the edges and valuing the margins.  Trinity is growing the vines out of tasteful planters.

Beautiful and bountiful vines!

Beautiful and bountiful vines!

Another small “niche” she has designed is the sitting area, which shows up just after the squash and beans. This is a close up of the sitting area, where there is a blackboard where Trinity regularly updates the question that people can answer (and people do!) The sitting area invites people to come, be for a while, and simply to enjoy the space.  She’s asking people to observe, interact and intuit in this space.

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Moving along the front, the next niche is the giving tree itself.  People can take and leave vegetables, gifts, and trinkets. Children come here and leave and take small toys, for example.  Again, there are a few principles happening here: stacking functions (visually pleasing, growing food, offering gifts), functional interconnection (seeing how the parts work together with the whole). There is very creative use of the edge space and margins (in this case, the otherwise unused edge of the building).  This space is also working on multiple levels: in this case, the social/community as well as the ecological.

Giving Tree area

Giving Tree area

Finally, there are the areas near the stairs and leading up to the actual building that have more vegetables, flowers for pollinators, and more.  Trinity is obtaining a yield with her herbs and veggies and also working to redistribute surplus and engage in people care and fair share.

Herbs and veg in front edge space

Herbs and veg in front edge space

 

Front edge spaces

Front edge spaces from another angle.

One of the things you can see here is how she used rocks and built a bed to build soil. The other thing she did (which I’ll describe in more detail below) is use old feed bags, straw, and small amounts of soil to grow a real vegetables! This is embracing renewables and freely available resources.

And finally, after walking past this delightful space, you feel welcomed as you enter the building.

Welcome to the building!

Welcome!

What I like about this as a permaculture demonstration site is that it is intensive, functional, and engaging.  Each day, it brightens the downtown area and community, while clearly demonstrating many of the principles that can help us live more rengeneratively. This is a wonderful example of how people in urban settings can do so much!

 

The Rooftop Garden: Obtain A Yield

The other outdoor space that Trinity is intensively working is the only space where she has full solar gain–the rooftop.  She has a serious start to a lovely rooftop garden, even getting her vegetables in late (late June) due to her recent move.  Recently, when I visited with her, she fed me celery and tomatoes from this very rooftop garden!

Obtain a yield- yeah!

Obtain a yield- yeah!

Trinity has re-used old feed bags as planters. They hold water, are extremely light (to not put undue stress on the building roof), and are otherwise using waste as a resource.  Essentially what she did is use the “strawbale garden” technique in feed bags instead–planting her veggies in a small amount of soil in the center of the bed, but growing primarily in straw as the growing media.  This technique does require the plants to be watered fairly frequently, but it works well (and Trinity and I have talked about the possibility of drip irrigation for her garden next year).

Here is a nice view of the low-soil, lightweight beds. Onions are doing fine!

Here is a nice view of the low-soil, lightweight beds. Onions are doing fine!

Here is a nice view from the rooftop garden–again, the green is an incredible contrast to the urban concrete and buildings.  This rooftop garden could be expanded quite a bit to grow tons of food.  The light colored roof will also help reflect the heat and keep the veggies cooler in the hottest months.  Trinity is consulting with an engineer to see the possibilities long-term for the garden in terms of weight, etc.

Rooftop garden beds!

Rooftop garden beds!

Trinity’s tomatoes are trellised on some old antenna cables and wiring–also repurposed. As you can see, she is certainly getting a great yield out of this garden!  And this is only the beginning–I can’t wait to see what she continues to do next year :).

Tomatoes

Tomatoes

This is just a small slice of some of the outdoor things that Trinity has been doing in her new abode–I’m excited to see where she goes next.

Gift Exchanges and Sharing: People Care and Fair Share

Another fun thing that Trinity recently did to engage the community and encourage alternative narratives surrounding sharing and “stuff.”  A few weeks ago, our town hosted the Northern Appalachian Folk Festival; it includes music, food, vendors, and a variety of classes (I offered a vermicomposting class, for example). Trinity put out a whole “free” spread in front of her building that encouraged people to take anything they like, leave anything they like, and make a donation.  Many people didn’t know what to think of this (it is so far outside of mainstream capitalism today!) but caught on and joined in on the fun!

Part of the Gift Economy Display at the Folk Festival

Part of the Gift Economy Display at the Folk Festival

On the broader scale, this kind of action links with the gift economy movement. Gift economies and circles are springing up all over the USA, and certainly, have been in place in many parts of the world.  It functions entirely different set of assumptions: it is about care and support, not exchange. I linked above to Charles Eisenstein’s discussion of the Gift Economy, which I think is a good place to understand this philosophy better.

 

Growing Where We are Planted

Trinity is embracing the idea of “growing where she is planted.”  Every space we inhabit has its limitations–in the case of Trinity, she has no soil.  Instead, she has turned the problem into a solution by capializing on what she does have: frontage, visability, and a beautiful roof with solar gain.  Trinity literally grows where she is planted on many levels. Its a beautiful representation of the three permaculture ethics: earth care (growing things, pollinator plants, bringing greenery back into concrete); people care (offering free food, sitting space, beauty, community), and fair share (giving to others any surplus).  I hope you have found her work to be inspirational on your own paths, especially for those of you in limited living circumstances. I will continue to follow her on this blog as the space develops and grows!

 

Awakening of the Heart: Permaculture’s Ethic of Care September 11, 2016

Love the earth

Love the earth

As I write this, a brave group of Native Americans are standing in support of the earth and protesting yet another oil pipeline that threatens water supplies, health, and home. Here, we see the clash between those defending their mother in care and compassion, and those representing profit and pillage. It is in the care for our lands the tribes take a stand; it the understanding of sacred connection of all things, all life, that helps them brave the dogs, pepper spray, the intimidation and much worse abuses. In some ways, the situation unfolding in North Dakota is a representation of similar circumstances that peoples and communities find themselves all over the world facing: fighting giant corporations who seek to pillage and profit while paying little attention to the human and environmental costs involved in their actions. I believe that many of today’s problems stem from a lack of care, compassion, and connection for ourselves, for others, for the living earth and all of her inhabitants. And since care, itself, is at the heart of permauclture design, it is fitting that the second post in my “permaculture for druids” series be about just that: care and connection.  (For earlier posts in this series, see the following: Permaculture as a Spiritual Practice; Permaculture Design Site, and Sankofa).

 

A Deadening of the Mind and Heart

Industrialized cultures seem to have lost our ability, on an individual, community, and societal level, to care and be compassionate—towards other people, the land, the animals, the insects, the plants, even towards themselves. Joanna Macy in Coming Back to Life suggests that the greatest issue preventing general movement toward a life-sustaining society is in the deadening of the mind and the heart.  It is an “apathy” (literally, non-suffering) or inability or refusal to feel.

 

When we look at conversations and actions driving much political change and laws being enacted in the early 21st century, care is an essential quality missing. In part, it is the lack of care and compassion that can drive ordinary citizens to oppose feeding hungry children in the name of tax cuts (which I witnessed firsthand when living in Michigan); it is the lack of care and compassion that can allow public lands to be sold off to the highest bidder and fracked for natural gas while others turn a blind eye; and it is the lack of care and compassion that make people keep buying products even though they know those products are being made at the extreme expense of others. I have witnessed this many times living in Western Pennsylvania—the economic issues overshadow all others. And so, our lands are fracked, the waterways poisoned with acid mine runoff, the people drinking the radioactive water—and the economics of it all are the only thing that people point to or are concerned about. I’m certain that readers throughout the world could share their own examples here–because they are everywhere right now.

 

I think this “deadening” of the mind and heart manifests as a a numbness, or disconnection, a deadness of spirit. Its like our brains are constantly overloaded, in a matter of speaking, and our hearts are continually silent. It is inserted into us at an early age with the removal of play, nature, and creativity from schools; it is connected to ingrained and automatic actions and cycles of consumerism that we are quickly socialized into being part of. It comes from the “disenchanted” world we live in, where edges are harsh and experiences are cold.  It also comes from the increasingly difficult realities so many face: people barely scraping by, working three jobs, trying to put food on the table and take care of their families in increasingly uncertain times, not having health care, not having steady transportation, living in places without stable heat, and so on.  It comes from the inundation of various screens sharing calamity after woe after calamity.  Its this monstrious pile that makes people “turn off” cause it is easier than trying to feel your way through it.  And so, we stop caring. It hurts to much.  We close our eyes, allow it all to flow from us, and go about our lives, burying ourselves in work, stuff, screens, drugs/alcohol, whatever.

 

Or if we don’t, its not necessarily any better. Even for those who do care deeply, compassion fatigue is a common problem. Those living in industrialized cultures are constantly bombarded with demands for time or resources—people grow numb to the amount of need and end up shutting down. I believe part of this has to do with the fact that we don’t have a cultural understanding of care; that we aren’t in an environment that encourages or facilitates care of any kind, and the current environment burns us out.

 

So, what can we do?  I think it is a matter, for me, of understanding care and seeing it in a new way.  Its about not just feeling, but directing that energy that we have, those deep emotions, into ways that help change the things that cause the world, life, humans, and ourselves harm.  If we can productively direct our own efforts and feelings, then our deep, open hearts become a source of tremendous strength and passion rather than something that just hurts.

 

This is where the concept of permaculture comes in, and why permauclture is ultimately rooted in the ethic of care.  I think that the synthesis of permaculture as a practice for living and druidry as a practice for inhabiting give a nice balance to help us feel deeply while avoiding the burnout and deadness that can otherwise consume us.  So now, let’s take a look at the ethic of care as a whole, and where we might head with it.

 

Connecting humans and land in harmony!

Connecting humans and land in harmony!

An Awakening of Heart

In the deadness of the heart we find the roots of so many problems of industrial culture. It is in the reawakening of heart spaces that helps us live lives that are regenerative and nurturing. We start waking up, reconnecting, finding the paths back to our own souls and to the living earth, our mother.  Its often a slow process, a gradual one, and the ethics of care can help us arrive there, and understand our journey.

 

The herbalist Stephen Harrod Buhner is one of many recent authors to point out the disconnection in our modern culture between the mind and the heart. In his Sacred Plant Medicine, he discusses the challenges with modern industrialized society in that we always “live in our heads” which allows cutting logic to dominate and decisions to be made without feeling out their consequences (as it is different to understand a situation rationally vs. feel a situation firsthand). Our education system encourages this rational thought at the expense of all feeling, so by the time we make our way out of formal education, there isn’t always a lot left of the heart. Further, the traditional symbolism in the tarot associated with “heady” actions and the mind is the suit of swords that cut all in their path. So much of our cultural value systems place emphasis on economics, on personal gain, on possessiveness, and on profit—all of which reside in the head. As Buhner describes, Native American indigenous cultures believed one’s consciousness resided in the heart and care and compassion, especially towards the living earth and one’s community, were critical values. It is in returning to a heart-centered space that we can begin to understand, more fully, the ethic of care and why it is so central to permaculture as a living practice and design system.

 

The practice of permauclture is, ultimately, rooted in an ethic of care. It is from care and connection to things that are not ourselves that interest in regenerating ecosystems and living gently. It is from regenerating ecosystems, communities, and much more that we can work to develop our sacred connection with the land.  It is in living from the heart, and being present in the world, from the heart, that this work is most effective.

 

You see, from this discussion, that the drive towards a practice of permauclture is likely not much different, for many of us, than finding the path into druidry.  Both stem from an awakening and inhabiting of the heart.

 

A Heart-Centered Life: Four Ethics for Permaculture Design

And so, we come now to the four ethics for permaculture design–all rooted in care and an open heartspace. These ethics are the foundation upon everything else in permaculture is based–without them, the permaculture as a system has no heart and no spirit. The ethics of permaculture are like the glue that binds everything else together.  The ethics are as follows:

 

Regeneration in the forest

Regeneration in the forest, on her own time, and by her own methods

Earth care: Caring for the earth, in all her forms.  This means that we honor the earth through our actions and work to regenerate her damaged places, protect her wild places, and live our lives in a way that treads lightly upon her. Our goal, with this ethic, is to heal more than harm and recognize that we can be a force of good in our lands!  Earth care is as much a spiritual practice as it is a physical one—and I would argue that they are one in the same—when we care for the earth, that we hold sacred, it is spiritual work. I think when we first get into nature-based spiritual paths, we tend to think that “spiritual work” in meditation, ritual, magic—but earth care is as much a part of that spiritual practice as is a ritual, and learning how to integrate these are keys for sacred action.

 

People care: Caring for people, in all their forms. A critical link exists between earth care and people care. If people don’t have their basic needs met, they will often strip them bare in order to survive out of desperation—or allow it to be stripped in the perception of economic gains. Poverty, further, leads to disempowerment and lack of agency over one’s lands, livelihoods, and more. And so, if we are going to care for the earth, we must also recognize that our basic needs, as humans, need to also be met.  This isn’t selfishness–it is life.  But people care goes well beyond the basic needs: Maslow’s hierarchy is useful here.  We have basic needs  like food, clothing, shelter, warmth, fresh water, clean air, security of body.  Up the hierarhy we have belonging, community, expression, and more.  All of these things are part of what people need–and people care considers all of them. The earth has more than enough to provide for us, if only we let her!

 

Fair share: Taking only what we need and redistributing any surplus. Fair share is the basic idea that we should only take our “fair share” so that others can also live comfortably and fulfilled (and by “others” I mean all others, not just other humans).  Taking too much is one of the big problems we have, with the accumulation of wealth and stuff. This is a tremendously challenging principle in a world that has difficulty separating “wants” from “needs” and where excess is expected and commonplace. And yet, if we lived by this principle, we certainly can make an enormous positive change in our world!  Fair share applies to every aspect of life–from herbalism and foraging to eating a reasonable amount of food to minding how much stuff we bring into our lives.  To live more simply and richly so that others also may live.

 

Self care:  A final ethic is self care, or the care one needs for oneself in order to engage in the care of people and earth. Ethical self care realizes that we can’t engage in any other kind of care if we, ourselves, are not taken care of first.  Otherwise, we burn out and cannot shine brightly in the world where our light is needed. Nature spirituality is a path that allows us much in the way of self care, as I’ve written about several times recently, including in Permaculture’s Ethic of Self Care as a Spiritual Practice, the Druid Retreat series, and the Spiritual Practices in finding Equilibrium through the Chaos.

 

Now this is just a brief introduction to the ethics of permaculture–we will see, as I continue this series of posts–how these practices are woven into the principles and actions of permaculture.

Permaculture Ethics for Spiritual Practice

Many ancient and modern spiritual movements have a set of ethics or morals attached to them—however, due to the newness of modern earth-based spiritual traditions, the fragmentary nature in which they were developed and evolved, not all of our current traditions do have an explicit ethical system, although ethical systems are certainly implicit. In druidry, perhaps it is best summed up as “nature is good, therefore, nature is good.” Useful, simple, but from my perspective, not enough to live by. To supplement the simple druid adage, I have found that the permaculture ethical system forms a perfect system of ethics for both my outer work as a human being living in these times and the inner path of druidry.

 

The ethics are simple enough to learn and remember, and yet profound in their wide-ranging applications. If I walked through life with only these ethics, I would still have a compass, a guide, from everyday living to the big choices! If the goal of an ethical system is to give us some idea of how to live, act, and be, the permaculture ethical system certainly fits. But more than that, these outer truths are also represented on the inner realms. It is the interplay between these ethics, the of druidry, and the principles of permauclture that form a beautiful synthesis of ethical, caring, and meaningful everyday living. I don’t know if these would fit everyone’s path, but I have found them to be incredibly helpful for my own, as I grow and learn and find my way forward.

 

Permaculture for Druids, Part I: Sankofa and a Weaving of Past, Present, and Future September 4, 2016

Sankofa. This was the first principle taught to me during my Permaculture Teacher Training (from which I’ve just returned), by the incredible teacher Pandora Thomas. Sankofa is a word from the Twi language in Ghana that refers to the idea of it not being wrong to go back and finding something that has been forgotten, or literally, “go back and get it.”

 

Symbols of Sankofa

Symbols of Sankofa

Sankofa, the art of finding again what has been lost.

Sankofa, the importance of understanding our past to live regeneratively in our present and shape our future.

Sankofa, the knowledge of the ancestors manifest today.


Sankofa
deeply resonated within me as a druid and as a human being, someone trying hard to regenerate our lands and tread lightly upon the earth. When I look at the many movements that have touched me–of reskilling, sustainable living, natural building, community building, herbalism, permacluture, druidry–I see this principle woven into much of my current inspiration. For we are a people who have lost our path; we’ve lost the wisdom of our ancestors, of earth and water, seed and stone.  Sankofa says that its ok, that we can go back and get it.  Collectively, we can emerge from the fog of capitalism, consumerism, and industry to see that the tools and practices we need are still there, within us and found in our histories, waiting once again to come forth.

 

Sankofa, the act of finding our way again, with wisdom and guidance from the ancestors.

Sankofa, finding and renewing the ancient bonds between humans and the living earth.

Sankofa, a principle of living and being.

 

Sankofa certainly describes the work we do as druids following an earth-based spiritual path. Druid spirituality was inspired by the ancient druids and modeled, as much as we are now able, from their teachings and traditions. Druidy focuses on bringing us back to a closer relationship with the earth and rediscovering those ancient connections that humanity has always had, and still has, deep within. Druidry gives us old practices (nature observation, meditation, ritual, seasonal awareness) that are rekindled, and that help us reestablish that sacred relationship between humans and nature that had been forged over the millennia. Sankofa as a principle is fitting to describe part of what the druid tradition is about.

Regeneration

Regeneration

Likewise, sankofa is an excellent fit to describe Permaculture.  Permaculture is a system of principles and ethics, rooted in nature, that help us regenerate ecosystems and connections between ourselves, the land, and each other.  Permaculture is rooted in the idea that we can live abundantly and richly while also improving the land and ecosystem around us, that we can be in partnership, working with nature, rather than against it.  Permaculture design principles are not new; they are old principles with a new presentation fitting for today’s age. Humans through the centuries have understood–and enacted–these principles based on nature and tempered by common sense (observation, producing no waste, obtain a yield, value renewables, etc.). Before fossil fuels, these principles, implicit or explicit, were how humans lived and survived. But, for modern humans living in post-industrial times, these principles are new in the sense that we haven’t had these ways of knowing or stories shared with us in our upbringing, in our family traditions, in our educational system. The principles are no longer part of our cultural tradition or knowledge. Part of our response to the challenges of today that we collectively we face is, of course, remembering that the land is our greatest teachers, learning principles from that land, and enacting those principles again in our present reality.  What we are discovering along the way is that this practice is not only necessary, it is fun, empowering, and meaningful work. Permaculture design is a new way of framing old knowledge.

 

One of the questions I’m often asked is why I practice permaculture, as part of my druidry, and why I work to integrate these two principles. What I have found through my interweaving of permaculture and druidry is this:

 

Permaculture aligns beautifully with an earth-honoring, earth-centered spiritual practice.  Because permaculture focuses on designing from natures patterns, it helps better aligning us to the rhythms of the seasons, and regenerating landscapes intersects with spiritual and earth-centered seasonal celebrations, meditations, and studies.  It gives me additional layers through which to understand my spiritual connection to the living earth.

 

Permaculture offers us tools for empowerment and change that are not culturally appropriated, tied to any person or belief.  This is really important in a day and age where everything seems to be culturally appropriated or disconnected from its original context.  These are universal principles, used all over the world, applied uniquely in different contexts, for regeneration.

 

Permaculture offers us hope.  I get demoralized, as you’ll read from time to time on this blog, with what is going on beyond my control.  As I think anyone who is awake and alive and paying attention now feels.

 

Permaculture is one outer practice to compliment the inner practice  of druidry.  The druid tradition gives me many tools for working on my own inner landscape and spiritually aligning with the living earth; permaculture gives me the tools to do the same on the outer landscape.  As a druid and permaculture designer. I stand with my ancestors, those who understood the land and the patterns of the land, behind me, with me, weaving, and growing.

Permaculture for all!

Permaculture for all!

Last year, I wrote about the power of permaculture design as a way to regenerate the land, human-land, and human-human connections. I followed that post up with a discussion of my own five-year design site (which I moved away from last year to return to my homeland of Pennsylvania, land very much in need of regeneration). And I’ve done a smattering of posts on the topic: an introduction to the ethics of permaculture (which I’ll be returning to and expanding) and a post on the practice of self care from a druid/permaculture perspective and permaculture design sites and practices within permaculture (like sheet mulching).  These posts wove between the inner and outer landscapes, offering suggestions and thoughts on how permaculture and druid practice can be intersected and connected.  And while this entire blog has been, since its inception, dedicated to weaving between the inner and outer work of druidry as a sacred, regernative practices and has been heavily inspired by permaculture design, I think I haven’t done the underlying principles of permaculture itself enough justice.  So now, we are ready to dig into the design principles more explicitly and see how they can offer us some navigation and grounding in the time to come.

 

It is a good time to begin this series, as I have just returned from my permaculture teacher training course, with Pandora Thomas and Lisa Depiano, and feel empowered to write, grow, and learn with all of you!  With the ancestors behind us, and the possibility of the future ahead of us,  this post starts an extended series on “Permaculture for Druids” where I’ll weave principles from permaculture design with druid wisdom and explore permaculture’s place in both our inner and outer landscapes.  Like my other series (Druid Tree Workings, Sacred Trees, and Land Healing), I’ll do this over a number of months with some other scattered posts on non-permaculture topics woven in between.  Blessings!

 

A Spring Ritual: Trash-to-Treasure Fairy May 21, 2016

A typical "trash" pile full of perfectly good stuff

A typical “trash” pile full of perfectly good stuff from the move out day ritual.  Working fans, mattresses, bags of unused clothing, shoes, organization units, dishes, etc.

At the end of the semester in my quaint college town, a spring ritual of sorts takes place. (I know, I know. Spring rituals in college towns are rarely a good thing!) It is a holiday dedicated to the gods of consumption and waste, called “Move out day.” This day takes place the same day as graduation, and after graduation ceremonies, students and their families eagerly pack their cars and whisk themselves off to unknown destinations. Unfortunately, not everything that they brought, or bought here, goes with them. In fact, the primary activity of the move out day ritual is making one’s sizable offering of new and lightly used goods on the sidewalk or in a series of dumpsters and then to drive off into the sunset.

 

As you walk up and down the streets in the aftermath of this ritual, the carnage and enormity it can be overwhelming. To give you a sense of it, I’ll post two lists from friends and the “haul” they got from move-out day:

 

“End of the semester means move out day! This year’s haul includes a Weber grill, a metal bathroom shelf, an IKEA shelf unit, brand new Tefal fry pans, new cutting boards, a six month supply of laundry soap and fabric softener, clothes, a fan, a folding chair, and two bikes.”

 

“I got two boxes full of dishes, a leather rolling chair, two brand new garbage cans, a sound system, two digital voice recorders, an Xbox with 5 games and controllers, a almost new scanner/printer unit, a vintage metal chair, a whole bag of clothing with the tags still on, three pairs of jeans, towels, crystal plates and cups, a box full of plates and cups, two small throw rugs, a wooden jewelry box…and probably some things I forgot.”

 

I think these two lists help you get the picture–this is not ordinary garbage, but a ton of perfectly good stuff, or brand new stuff, that for whatever reason, students no longer want in their lives.

 

Each of these items have a cost: an environmental cost, a social cost, a financial cost. So many resources–directly from the living earth–natural materials, fossil fuels and the associated environmental tolls, environmental pollution from extraction sites, factory waste and runoff. Further, the social cost is also often extreme: workers and their families, near-slave labor in factories, chemical poisoning of workers, birth defects, poverty, and more. When we think about these costs, and the cycle of purchasing and disposal, it is very hard to see mounds and mounds of stuff going completely unused go to the dump. At the dump, it has a final environmental cost as it slowly decays, especially with all of those electronics leeching heavy metals. I don’t think that students participating in their spring ritual really think about what I’ve outlined here–it is the simplest action just to leave stuff on the curb on your way home.

 

I’m not going to go into there reasons this happens (see my earlier post on “disposing of the disposable mindset“) but instead, with the inspiration of permaculture ethics, I’m going to share the inspirational story of the Trash-to-Treasure fairy.

 

Clothes wtih the tags on in the trash

Clothes wtih the tags on in the trash

The typical response to those on the sidelines of this spring ritual are: 1) ignore it is going on and go about your business; 2) shake your head and move along; or, 3) take advantage of it to see what stuff you can salvage, use, and take off the streets. I have found myself most often in the 3rd category, and I never considered taking it a step further. In fact, there are a lot of people out and about during the move out day ritual, participating in a counter-ritual of sorts, sorting through the piles and  looking for stuff they can use (hence the lists above). Others are scrappers, looking to see what metal they can salvage to scrap for bit of cash.  In fact, I have a lot of nice new dishes here, including an awesome enamel saucepan, from this year’s haul. I was personally not going out much, because, shamefully, I didn’t want to be seen as the professor digging through students’ garbage. And then, I saw what the Trash-to-Treasure fairy did, and in the upcoming years, I have decided that I am going to put that sentiment behind me in the future and take his lead.  And maybe solicit the help of some others in furthering the cause.

 

The trash-to-treasure fairy, summoned by the spring move out ritual, decided that none of the three typical responses above were sufficient–and they aren’t. The first responses two allow a problem to happen,and don’t do anything about it other than have a non-response or levy judgement. The third response is much better in that some of what would otherwise wasted goes to use, but its also a very personal response problem, in that the larger problem still remains. But still, 95% of what is thrown away is still going to thrown away, going to the landfill to spend 2000 years or more decomposing.

 

The fourth option, which the Trash-to-treasure fairy enacted, was using a different set of ethics: the permaculture ethics of earth care, fair share, as well as the design principles of “produce no waste” and “the problem is the solution.” In simple terms–because everything that is on the curb came from the earth, and the fairy honors the earth, he decided he wasn’t going to let it go back so easily. And so, he began working his magic. The fairy spent a number of hours filling his car with anything he found that was perfectly good and made runs to one of the local thrift stores.  He selected his store very carefully, avoiding one of the national chains, but a local place with more sound ethics, who directly put on the floor what is donated, and who directly feed the needy with the sales.  The thrift store manager was thrilled to see carloads of perfectly fine dishes, brand new clothing with the tags on, video game consoles, fans, and more–and often of a higher quality than the typical used donations. The fairy’s blessing extends to the shoppers, of all walks of life, that visit that particular store.  This simple solution was able to do car-loads more good than bringing it to your house or turning away from the problem.

 

Lots here that can be used again!

Lots here that can be used again!

I’m also inspired in another sense to take the Trash-to-Treasure fairy’s actions a few steps further.  For one, it seems that in the future, perhaps we can encourage the thrift stores to be there, in person, with donation trucks and make it really convenient for students to make a donation to their store instead of the curb. (We are in a small town, all of the stores are within 2 miles of where this is happening…but still, a lot of people can’t be bothered to drop stuff off on the edges of town). I’m also wondering if more education and a push by the university could help move more of this so-called “waste” into the hands of people who need it. I think there are lots of possibilities here, and I am thankful to have been so inspired by the Trash-to-Treasure fairy and to share this with all of you.

 

The Trash-to-Treasure fairy wasn’t content to take only what he needed, and instead, took it a step further. He stopped thinking about himself and his own needs, and instead, thought about the good of the earth and the community. I am inspired to continue and extend this tradition and help reduce the waste produced by my own campus community. The following week, a very similar spring ritual of my hometown, where my parents live, was taking place: “spring clean up” and I went with the trash-to-treaure fairy to see what we could salvage and give away. So many of us have an opportunity each day to do these little, yet powerful things. May the inspiration of the trash-to-treasure fairy be ever-present in your life!