Tag Archives: awareness

Honoring the Predators: A Story of Reconnection

My last beekeeping post told a the tale of my two bee colonies destroyed by colony collapse disorder. I had hoped to have better news to share about my beekeeping endeavors this year. And things started well enough: a friend removed some bees from a house that was to be torn down and gave them to me; I moved my hive to a new location and setup the hive in a friend’s yard, and then I was able to setup an empty hive with the hopes of catching a second swarm. But, unfortunately, this tale has a different end, and a different lesson. The bees were doing great, I had just added honey supers a few weeks ago, and I was expecting a ton of honey from such a strong colony and then–the bear came. I have read about bears taking out beehives, but I have never talked with anyone that had this happen. My friend had never seen a bear, and there were no reports of them in the area, but clearly, one was nearby! The bear ripped open the hive, and, in the middle of a rainstorm, flung the colony all over the place as he had his meal. Bears go for honey, but especially, for the brood: the bees’ young larvae and pupae are very protein rich. And so, this was the scene that greeted my friend when she woke up, and the scene that greeted me when I arrived to see what could be salvaged.

Destroyed Beehives

Destroyed Beehives

Two of us worked for most of the day to salvage what we could. The bees that remained were soaking and, since it was only about 50 that day, very cold. The equipment was soaked, and I had no idea if the queen had survived. I thought it likely the bear would return, so I spoke to various friends in a desperate effort to move the hives before dark. I wasn’t able to secure a location, and since it is illegal to have bees inside of town limits, we instead drove many pieces of rebar around the hive, wired it up, strapped it shut, and hoped for the best. I wish now I had just stuck them on my porch for a day or two until I could figure out where to move them and risked the citation. Unfortunately, the bear came back, and while we made it harder for him to get inside, he still did, demolishing what was left of the hive.

 

The end of this tale is a bit better–although there weren’t many bees left after the second bear visit, we salvaged what was left: the queen and about 5000 of her workers. We borrowed a travel box from a friend, and we saved every bee we could, gently helping them into the hive box. A fellow beekeeping friend has a number of hives, so he had brood and resources to help them get back to health. They are now back on their way to a strong colony again, and they are protected from bears. All the beekeepers in the  area are on alert now about bears, thanks to my hive. This whole event has given me much to think about and meditate upon, and a variety of lessons  to consider–and today, the lesson is honoring the predators.

 

It’s ironic that this the lesson I am exploring, because the the hives were torn apart on the early morning hours of May 2nd. The day before was May 1st – Beltane. I met with a new friend, a woman who had dedicated her life to the work of the goddesses, and we got together to do a Beltane ceremony. As part of our first ceremony, each of us brought some things from our respective traditions to share with each other. One of the things she brought were offerings, including an offering honoring the predators. She made her offering and spoke beautifully about the predators, their role, the goddesses connected to them. In my mind, I was certainly not honoring the predators. All of my experiences with predators as a homesteader were negative: the hawk that swooped down to kill many of my dear chickens, including taking a peep right from in front of me. The dead chicken bodies I found as the hawk flew off after eating a meal. I remember the evidence of the badger that ripped my coop open one night and drug off my beloved rooster (an event I still haven’t written about), the snakes by the pond swallowing frogs whole, their peeping and screeching noises going on for over an hour till the snake finally finished its meal.

 

As my friend spoke so beautifully about the predators, I was instead filled with these images of predators and how I spent so much of my own time over the last few years keeping them away from things I loved. And then, that next morning–the largest predator of all in this area–the bear–came and feasted upon my beehive.

 

I have reminisced in the weeks that have passed since the hive was eaten that I really do have a problem honoring the predators–and that’s a problem with me, not a problem with the predators. And the predators, in their own way, will make themselves known and continue to show up in my life until I am able to honor them. And so, to help myself come to terms with the loss, I thought I’d write about the predators and, finally, begin to do the work of honoring them.

 

Cultural Problems with Predators

We learn about predators in school in really scientific ways: predators sit at the top of the food chain; they are carnivorous, eating only the flesh of other creatures; they may be solitary or run in packs. We learn about predators from the local news: a hiker was mauled by a bear, a swimmer was eaten by a shark, a pack of coyotes killed a number of neighborhood dogs. We learn about human predators, who we view as the worst kind of people: those who stalk, kill, harm and maim others. This, term perhaps shows us the cultural view of the predator, that we take this term and we attach it to heinous actions that are in no way comparable to a bear or a fox taking a meal. I think I was viewing the predators that had eaten the bees, the chickens, and so forth in the same way: you, predator, have taken something I value, you have taken a life. You have done me wrong and have done wrong to others.  But this is not the lesson of the predator, not the lesson at all.

 

Nature’s Wisdom

Sometimes, those of us, especially those in nature-based spiritual paths, want to see nature as all roses, all pretty trees, all little birds signing. But roses have thorns, the trees compete for light, and the birds sometimes knock each other’s eggs out of nests. Like everything else, they are working to survive by any means possible. A forest is full of both competition for resources and cooperation. I’m reminded here of the lesson of the many medicinal mushrooms of the woods (and you can read some of this in Tradd Cotter’s book; he gave a fascinating talk on this subject last year at the Mother Earth News Fair in Seven Springs, PA.) The medicinal qualities–particularly the anti-cancer, anti-microbial qualities–of mushrooms like birch polypore, turkey tail, or reishi are based on their growth in natural environments, where mushrooms have to compete to survive. Tradd gave an example in his talk of a petri dish that he was working on that had birch polypore in it–he had dropped something nasty into it (e-coli, I think) and was amazed to see how the birch polypore exuded an anti-fungal agent to combat it, and surround it, and eventually subdue it using what was essentially chemical warfare. That same chemical constituent, when taken within, helps us fight a number of diseases. If the mushrooms are grown in a lab or in a controlled setting, their medicinal value drops significantly–because they don’t have the natural competition of all of the other bacteria and others in the fungal kingdom. These mushrooms aren’t predators in the traditional (animalistic) sense, but they certainly  have similar qualities and offer similar lessons.

Tradd Cotter teaching us about mushrooms

Tradd Cotter teaching us about mushrooms

Predator Patterns and Restoration Agriculture

The truth is, predators are a key part of nature, and without them, we lose a greater part of the whole and the entire ecosystem suffers. Recently, farmers and activists in permaculture design and in sustainable agriculture have been reintroducing predator-driven graze patterns to help regenerate agricultural lands. These patterns, set by millions of years of evolution, are now mimicked by humans on farms to move herd animals through various terrain. This work is perhaps best illustrated by the work of Joel Salatin at Polyface farm (see Polyfaces) and Mark Sheppard at New Forest Farm (see his book Restoration Agriculture or the film Inhabit). The principle of understanding why traditional graze patterns is simple: if you’ve ever visited a chicken run or petting zoo, you see what happens when animals are fenced in the same area for a long period of time. They first eat their favorite food, then nibble down to the less desirable greenery, and finally, eat whatever is left, leaving bare soil.  This is what happens in a stationary system, rather than one driven by predators.

 

Rather than fencing animals in the same spot, folks like Salatin and Sheppard carefully rotate their herd animals  among large tracts of land in traditional grazing patterns. Mark Sheppard has his system so effectively designed that every different animal (cows, pigs, geese, chickens) move through a patch and quickly out of it in only a few days time. As the herds are rotated, each animal gets it’s own best “first bite.” This technique encourages the grass to stay alive, and to shed carbon (as the grass is bitten down, it sheds roots to accommodate it’s smaller size, and that sinks carbon into the topsoil, enriching it). This, friends, is why prior to the settling of the USA by Europeans, the prairies had soil horizons that were 12 feet deep of rich topsoil: it was millennia of herds moving quickly through areas, driven by predators. Predators, then, are responsible for herd movements that can literally sequester carbon and stop climate change. Farmers interested in regenerative agriculture are using these same methods to sequester tens of thousands of pounds of carbon each year.  Salatin has compelling evidence tha  if every US farmer who raises any grazing animal used these techniques, we could sink all of the carbon the USA has ever emitted in less than 10 years.

 

This is the power of the predator, and this one of many reasons that they are deserving of our respect.

 

There are other examples of this as well. I’m sure that many of you saw the video about Yellowstone Park, where it was shown that the re-introduction of wolves changed the whole ecosystem because of the movement of herds.  The wolves were able, as the video suggests, change the movement of herds, which changed rivers, and helped regenerate the entire ecosystem. (There are some new articles that suggest that this video exaggerates the claims a bit, but I am still inclined to believe that a whole ecosystem, with it’s predators intact, is a more robust and healthy ecosystem). Without predators as a part of the ecosystem, all suffer.

 

Predators and Inner Lessons

The outer lessons, above, are clearer the more I write and think about them, but I would also like to spend a few moments on the inner lessons that the predators offer. I, like many, saw predators as a nuisance, as something to keep away, as something you don’t want to see flying above the skies or slinking through the grass.  But predators have another message–they are awareness medicine.

 

The hawks flying overhead made me better protect my chickens, and sent me a powerful message about defenses, about being vigilant, and about not letting my guard down. If my chickens were the tastiest plump morsels around (and they are, they are made of chicken), then I had to change my own relationship with the predators and protect my chickens better. If I lose a chicken to a hawk, this is not the fault of the predator, this is my own lack of vigilance.

 

The badger who broke into my coop, and dragged my beloved rooster off never to be seen again, sent me the message that I was to return to PA to my beloved mountains, a message I have since enacted in my life. The magic of my homestead worked because of my rooster, Anasazi, and without him, I knew it wasn’t going to work in the same way. That powerful message was the last thing I needed to truly move forward in my life.

 

And the bear, who easily took out the beehive during the first evening, and even more skillfully worked his way through wire, rebar, straps, and more, teaches me the lesson that the predators need to be honored. To be respected. They are there, they are present, and there is no getting around their message.  They are there whether or not we want them to be. And it is me, not them, who needs to change my own thoughts and actions .

 

The lessons of the predator are many: power, strength, vigilance, loss, opportunity, precision, healing, defenses, paying attention, cultivating awareness and openness to your surroundings. Friends, readers, what are your experiences with the predators? Do you have any additional lessons to share?

A Spring Equinox Message: The Gifts of Druidry in the World

Today marks the Spring Equinox, Alban Eiler, a time of new beginnings, of the balance between light and darkness, between summer and winter, between hope and despair.  Given the energy of today, and the challenges before us, I’d like to take some time to frame what I see as some of  druidry’s gifts to the world–the things that a druid path can do for the land and its peoples. I’m particularly  motivated to write this post today because today marks the end of my 10th year as a druid and I am moving into my second decade along this path–and so I’d like to share some of the insights I’ve had along the way.  I want to start with a disclaimer–as the adage goes, if you ask 5 different druids what druidry means to them, you’ll get 10 different answers. I am not speaking on behalf of all druids or for all of druidry, but here today, I am speaking my own truth and path, as I am apt to do on this blog :).

 

Early Sunrise

Early Sunrise

Look around at the land and waters that–in whatever shape that landscape is in.  At one time, that land was deeply loved and respected. Humans who lived there cultivated a sacred connection and awareness with it. All indigenous cultures have cultivated such relationships, and all of our bloodlines trace back to some indigenous culture or another if we go far enough back. Before industrialization, or even agriculture, our relationship with the land was much, much different. Our ancestors, rooted in the places they were, knew every inch of the edge of the river and how to build rafts to navigate the rocks and fish. They knew the medicine of root and stem and seed. They knew where the harvests came at what time of the year, and how not to take too much. They knew the names of the trees, the spirits of the animals, and were intimately connected with their surroundings. They knew that their own survival depended on the delicate balance that they had the privileged and responsibility of maintaining. The plants evolved with humans, so much so, that many of the most food and medicine-rich plants depend on us for survival, for nurturing, for scattering their seeds. How did that happen? Over countless millennia, we evolved together, creating mutual dependencies. This is why Pennsylvania forests used to be 30% chestnut–that wasn’t by accident, that was by human design (for more on this, see M. Kat Anderson’s Tending the Wild). Imagine being the land, the spirits of the land, and holding those memories of the time before.

 

And then, many things changed and time moved on. Knowledge and sacred connections lost, so much so that today, most people can’t identify more than a handful of plants or trees and do not even have basic knowledge of the world around them.  Instead, humans today in industrialized countries are sold a myth, the myth of progress ,strong as any other of religious belief, and embraced with the same kind of furor (see John Michael Greer’s works, particularly Not the Future we Ordered for more on this perspective). Wrapped up the myth of progress are myths of the importance of consumer goods, of smartphones and electronics that must be replaced every two years, of chemical-ridden pesticides that lace our foods and invade our bodies.

 

Supporting that myth allows the whole-sale pillaging of the land and its inhabitants. Supporting that myth allows national forests to be fracked, the same patches of forest to be repeatedly logged for two centuries, our waterways to be filled with poisons, our mountaintops removed. These are things that I witness every day here, in my beloved Appalachian mountains in Western PA. If relationships to the land were a pendulum, we humans of toady have swung so far in the other direction from our indigenous ancestors, or even those living closer to the land a few centuries before.

 

Our lands, waters, and plant spirits still hold the memories of those who came before, of the relationships that once were cultivated.  There is, among them, a great mourning and loss collectively. They hold memories of humans who used to care for them so carefully. Here in the Americas, at least here in Pennsylvania, that sacred relationship between land and human was abruptly severed several centuries ago with the driving out of the native peoples and the re-settlement of Pennsylvania by those of European decent. With the new humans, the last centuries saw tremendous amounts of pillaging and destruction, fueled by the myth of progress.

 

Since that time, and to today, the myth of progress changes our behaviors and relationship radically with nature. Humans, here in the US, now spend 87% of their time indoors and another 6% of their time in automobiles or other forms of enclosed transit.  That means just seven percent of the average American’s life today is spent outside. And of that seven percent, how much is spent mowing the grass? Spraying dandelions? Walking on pavement among tall buildings?  How much of that seven percent is spent with our heads in our phones rather than looking around us?  And beyond these statistics, I think there’s a general disregard for life, for nature that is dominant in our collective cultural understanding.

 

Druidry, I believe, is one good sign that the pendulum is starting to swing back in the right direction. Humans are once again are seeking that ancestral connection to the land that is still in our blood, and in the memories of the forests, the stones, the rivers. Learning how to see, and interact, with nature is critical to helping that pendulum swing back in the other example.  As a very simple example, last week, I was walking back from campus after teaching, and I came across a cluster of cut-back bramble bushes. I looked at those canes, getting just ready to bud, with tiny tufts of green coming from out of the buds, and I could see the promise of spring there. I was looking forward to the Equinox, and also feeling the sadness at seeing things budding a month earlier than usual due to climate change. The tips of the canes, too, held a tremendous surprise–when sliced longways (which someone had done recently to trim them), the cane of the blackberry bush forms a 5 pointed star, a pentagram, not so dissimilar from the pentagram I found in the chickweed plant some years ago. This cultivation of the sacred is, in part, observing sacred patterns of nature, unfolding around me, on my daily walk home from campus. And noticing the nature–the birds, the trees, appriciating them and knowing their names. And its more than patterns–the bramble holds medicine, food, protection–and as a druid, I’ve worked to learn about all of its gifts.  As I look in awe at the bramble, I wonder how many people have cultivated such a sacred relationship with the land in this area? That even would look at the bramble and be willing to look closer?

 

Spirit of Chickweed Painting

Spirit of Chickweed Painting

As a Druid, you might be the first adult person in several generations to see that land with something other than indifference, profit, or going into the land for the sole purpose of taking. As a druid, you might be the first to enter those lands again, in a long time, to see those lands not only in appreciation, but as sacred spaces. You might be the first who is willing to tend those lands again, to help heal, to help regenerate, to give rather than pillage and take. When I, as a druid, walk into the forest, I am often aware that I am reconnecting with lands that have not been thought of, or engaged with, as sacred for a very long time. What a gift it is to the land, to really see it. To interact with it. To hold it sacred. To be willing to learn and grow with it–in it–through it. To walk and see the buds on the trees, to see the medicine growing up out of the cracks of the sidewalks. I’m not just talking about the wild places here, but all places. You can sense the sacredness of the soil, even below the buildings that sit on it. You realize that there is no unsacred space, that all spaces and places, regardless of their damage, are still part of this great living earth–as you, too, are a natural part of it.

 

For many druids, interacting with the land in a sacred way is one of your gifts to the world–and it is an incredibly powerful gift that takes a lifetime of exploration to truly understand and realize.

 

The act of opening yourself up to these experiences are, for many, the first steps down the druid path. As one of the Archdruids in AODA, I spend a lot of time talking with new druids on the path and mentoring druids who are just starting their journey and studies. I read letters that they write that tell us about why they want to become druids, what they hope to gain from druidry. So many times, it seems that rebuilding that connection to nature is one of the key reasons that they join. To many people, when they first find druidry, are excited.  They often say, “This is the path that describes me, as I already am!”  This gives them a word that finally fits their self-image, the person that they are becoming with each passing breath and each cycle of the sun and moon. And every one of those letters, without fail, talks about reconnecting to the natural world!

 

Another tragic part of the myth of progress, asks us to give our power, especially our creative gifts, up and to let others provide us entertainment.  It saps our creative energy, and we are disempowered as creative thinkers and doers in the world.  Therefore, a second major gift of druidry, I believe, is regaining that creative force, the flow of awen, and using it for good in our own lives and in the lives of others in the world. Even the act of meditation alone allows us to “clear” our minds; the AODA’s sphere of protection or OBOD’s light body exercises allow for the Awen to flow within us again. And we desperately need these creative responses here and now–through music, poetry, artwork, dance, painting, crafts, the written word–to help us make sense of, process, and respond to what is going on. The creative arts help us make sense of the world and what is happening and can reach people meaningfully and deeply in ways that we otherwise could not.  At least in my own experience, my path in the bardic arts helps give a voice to those who cannot speak for themselves and to cultivate reconnection through my writings on this blog, my artwork, my teaching, and more.

 

Get out into the world!

Get out into the world!

The world is changing quickly around us, and for many, darkness appears to be settling in. Things are growing more frenzied, more desperate, more terrifying. The true tolls of incessant pillaging of the planet are now so visible and known, and will continue unfold in the years and generations to come. Just a few weeks ago, we passed the 2 degree threshold that so many have said, over the years, that we shouldn’t pass.  Those in denial are, well, still in denial, and the temperature keeps rising. But the rest of us must understand and work with our own grief, our own responses. Many come to druidry because they are looking for some path forward through this mess, and Druidry helps them take such a path, a path deeper into the landscape, into their own creative gifts, and through the difficulty that we are all facing.  Druidry, perhaps, gives us hope and reconnection–exactly the kind of thing, I believe, we need as we move forward into this unknown and terrifying territory. Many druids find themselves integrating spiritual responses with other kinds of responses–permaculture, for example, is a fantastic “get your hands dirty” compliment to this path (and certainly, its a big part of my own druid practice).

 

To wrap up, some of the greatest gifts I see of druidry are (in true triad form):

  • A gift to the land through the cultivation of a sacred relationship, awareness, and active healing work, but also through recognizing, confronting, and doing something about the predicament we face as a planet.
  • A gift to its people through the cultivation of the creative human arts, to give the land voice in the world through music, story, song, artwork, dance and more.
  • A gift to ourselves and to the nurturing of our souls, to give us tools, and outlets of response and the freedom to engage in bardic arts that reconnect humans and their landscape.

 

Finding the druid path is a gift, a blessing, and the ramifications of it go well beyond just ourselves. Often, for the first few years down this path, you are absorbing, like a sponge, all that you can–and things are very inward focused. You have a lot of healing work to do on your own inner landscape, and that’s critical work to do, work that will take a lifetime. But at some point, that sponge becomes full, and you are now ready to reverse the process, and give those gifts back to thee world. Druidry is a gift to the world, if we make it so. And on this sacred day, when so many things hang in the balance, it helps us re-balance our own lives, hearts, and souls.

Earth Ambassadors and Speakers for the Trees

One of the basic problems today is that our land and many of inhabitants can’t speak for themselves and have no legal rights. The word “agency” in a philosophical or rhetorical sense refers to one’s ability to act in a given environment, to have power in that environment, and to have voice. In the case of our land, the non-human inhabitants speak a language that is simply not recognized as a language and those inhabitants and landscapes have been systematically reduced into mere objects of worth. The discourse of our civilization leaves no room for their rights or participation and yet that discourse determines, to a great extent, their fate. They cannot participate in the decision making about our world; they are not considered stakeholders. As such, they are the unfortunate passive experiencers of the many unfortunate exploitative decisions of that civilization.

 

An Ancient One cut down...

Two ancient trees in a row cut down (with two more on the corner behind where the photo was taken)

This post was motivated by some recent occurrences in my town–these are things I would never have experienced or understood living on my secluded homestead in Michigan, but here, renting in a small town in PA, I see every day. A really simple example of this is what is happening on my street in the town where I live.  We had a beautiful tree-lined street when I arrived, and with the cutting of nine old trees in a 4 block area, the street is now barren.  These trees had no rights, they were “in the way” of the power company or the borough to repair sidewalks, and saving them is not a conversation that anyone is having, so they had to go.  There was no consideration of their right to live there, the fact that they had been there probably as long as those sidewalks….people just don’t think about them at all these days in that way. I spoke to one of our borough representatives about it, and he shared various perspectives on why it was happening.

 

In a second simple example, the other day, I was arriving home from campus to see a truck with the rental company I am renting with stop, then park, and then two men get out with chainsaws. I had not been told anyone was coming, and I was quite surprised to see them there. I walked up to them, said hello, and inquired what they were doing.  They said “we’re taking out the bushes on the side of the house.”  There are five nice bushes there, some holly and rhododendron, mature and beautiful. “Why?” I inquired. “They are overgrown.” They replied. “Couldn’t you just trim them? I like the bushes, I’m renting here, and the house will look bare without them.” One looked at the other, “well, I guess we can try.”  I added, “The other thing these bushes do in the summer is keep the house from overheating and help save on cooling costs in the summer. I think they are well worth trying to save.” They nodded and went back to their truck for a tree trimmer. In the end, they trimmed three of the bushes and cut one down (I have no idea).

 

So, with these experiences helping frame my discussion today, we return to the topic at hand: the need for inherent rights of nature. Its not that every culture has had such a problematic relationship with nature; some have recognized the inherent rights of the land and non-human inhabitants and included those rights in decision making processes. Other cultures could hear the singing of the trees, the sounds of the wind, the messages in a bubbling brook and respected those voices. Clearly, industrialized culture is not such a culture, and the very industry that made us industrialization has silenced our minds and hearts to the current plight of the land–growing more tragic by the day. The land and her non-human inhabitants, in nearly all countries in the world save Ecuador, also lack basic rights, such as the right to life, under our modern legal system. This makes them both non-entities in a legal sense and unable to respond in a way that will be heard.  Of course, this goes beyond just trees–animals trapped in the industrialized farming nightmare also suffer this fate, along with just about every other non-human thing. Indigenous peoples without access to the same kinds of technology and processes, also suffer this, and have suffered this lack of agency for a long time.

 

What the land and its non-human inhabitants needs are some ambassadors. Dedicated humans who focus on learning as much as they can, sharing that information freely, and speaking on behalf of the land in a myriad of ways. I’d like to propose that druids and others walking earth-centered paths consider taking up that role. If we view the world as sacred, if we can hear and understand the messages from the land, and if we strive to live our principles, who better to advocate for it?  Like the ancient druids of old, those who walk earth-centered paths such as druidry are poised to be leaders in our communities, offering a wealth of plant and nature knowledge and an example of ways of living more fully and consciously in our landscapes and lands and of the work of healing and of regeneration. This kind of advocacy work is so necessary in a culture that have so fully lost their connection with the natural world. Having “oak knowledge” puts you in a position to speak compassionately about the land and teach others of her magic. This may not be your calling, and it may not be something you are interested in right now—but it can be one outcome of this work if you feel you are called to into the service of our living earth.  I’ll also note that, in the example I gave above, it doesn’t have to be a glamorous thing–it can be small, everyday moments in everyday living where you can positively advocate for change.

 

Earth Ambassadorship

Ok, if you’re still reading, you are interested in the idea, so let’s take this a bit further and explore the concept of ambassadorship. “Ambassador” has two primary meanings, according to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary. The first has to do with being an official diplomat, which doesn’t really make sense in the context I’m describing here. The second meaning, however, is quite relevant to this discussion. Its two parts are, “an authorized representative or messenger” or an unofficial representative, traveling abroad as ambassadors of goodwill.” Now putting this whole “official” vs. “unofficial” business aside, as its not really relevant, we can glean some important tidbits from this idea of ambassadorship. An ambassador is someone who is a representative, who speaks on that being’s behalf, and who has that being’s best interests in mind. 

 

But what does this really look like? And how do we take on this role? I’m going to suggest it requires a few things: nature immersion; a deep knowledge of nature combined with practical skills that can reach people in a variety of ways; a nature oriented mindset and lifestyle; being an effective communicator; and seizing the opportunity.

 

#1 -Nature Immersion

The first key area to being an earth ambassador is being in nature, often, and frequently. We can’t be ambassadors for something that we admire from afar or setup on a pedestal in our minds.  We also can’t be ambassadors if we stay on the perfectly paved paths of our state forests and local county parks.  We have to be of nature and understand her intimately if we are to speak on her behalf. One of the best learning experiences I ever had being in nature in one sitting was when I went on a vision quest in Western Michigan two years ago. The vision quest involved fasting for two days, setting up a tarp to keep the rain out, bringing a sleeping bag to keep warm, bringing a journal to write in, doing some protective energy work to establish a sacred space and then sitting still. Staying put.  Slowing down.  Observing. Sitting with your back against a tree. For 48 full hours, those on the vision quest, in our chosen spots, simply were present with the land, present with ourselves, and quietly communing with the natural world (plus, doing something like this has its other benefits: it was this vision quest that gave me most of the druid tree workings series of posts).

 

Vision Quest Shelter

Vision Quest Shelter

The problem that most of us have when we go into the land is that we are moving quickly, we make noise, and we don’t really see what there is to see. But when we sit still for hours, then we see the animal life, then we notice the interactions….its this immersive experience that gives us the depth of awareness necessary to be ambassadors, to be insiders, to become part of nature rather than separate from it. Because when we slow down to nature’s time, we align our energies to her rhythms and pathways, and that gives us more conscious awareness of her needs.

#2 – Deep Knowledge, Oak Knowledge

 As I’ve mentioned on this blog before, by day I am a writing professor and learning researcher, so I have a pretty good sense of how people learn, or don’t learn, as the case may be. At least in the US, our education system has been so systematically gutted that most don’t have the basic literacy. critical reasoning, and study skills coming out of high school that makes learning a fun and effective process. And certainly, one isn’t going to learn much about the topics I am discussing in most primary or secondary schools, although university settings do have good things to offer (like, say, ecology, botany, or organic farming courses, some of which I was able to take at my former institution).

 

One of the things that an ambassador does is know those who they are representing intimately. This is not just a surface knowledge, or an abstract idea that they are “good” or have “needs” but rather this is a deep and intimate knowledge. If you want to be an earth ambassador, you have to really, really, and I mean really understand the land. In my recent post on seeing, I talk about the different levels of seeing the land–we need to move well beyond appreciation eyes and dedicate time and energy–a lot of it–to understanding the landscape. We need to understand a lot about ecology, biology, the things that have potential to harm the land, the things that can help heal it.  We need to keep our eyes open, our hearts open, and our minds open and observe. If we are going to speak on behalf of someone or something else, deep knowledge is a base requirement.

 

To be an earth ambassador, then, we have to dedicate time to improving our own knowledge base, setting aside our assumptions, and recognizing how much we have to learn.  There is no substitute for investing time in learning.  This certainly includes getting some good books, studying them carefully, and applying them in some way (e.g. don’t just read gardening books, plant something. Don’t just read about tree identification; go out and identify some trees, and so on).

 

While picking up a book or two and reading carefully is a good start, its not sufficient for what I’m talking about here. I’m often saddened when I attend a druid gathering to see how much my fellow druids don’t yet know about  nature or propagate assumptions about it that simply aren’t accurate–for all the time we spend in it, that critical awareness and deep understanding of what nature is and how it works is not always yet present.  In their defense, most of them have been druids for a few years or less, and are still figuring out their own identity–this is not something I necessarily knew either when I started out either.  But, to do this work well, its something you have to cultivate. Regardless, taking up the role of ambassador means the need for deep and broad knowledge about nature–which leads to a lifetime of dedication and study.  When it comes to this stuff, you can never know any one topic deeply enough, nor can you ever know enough about the land :).

A beautiful, moss covered knoll visible from my vision quest spot

A beautiful, moss covered knoll visible from my vision quest spot

 

Druid study programs can help fill the gap by providing some means of dedicated adult education–AODA’s in particular teaches some of the skills and knowledge I’m suggesting by way of books on ecology, making earth path changes, potential for additional Ovate studies, and intimate time in local landscapes.  It was through this study program that I grew a great deal of my initial knowledge–you might say the AODA’s study program sparked the deep changes within me that, 10 years later, allow me to write these words.  There are a lot of other kinds of training out there is also really good–for me, studying herbalism with a few different teachers was really effective to increase my knowledge of healing plants, plant identification, and botany. Organic farming courses from the biology department at my previous institution not only taught me about farming, but also about soil biology and ecology. After years of study, my permaculture design course brought everything together in a really positive way. The point is, knowledge you need to be an ambassador is not all in one place, but once you get a sense of curiosity and wonder about the world, its easy enough to learn with dedication and an open mind.

 

The principle behind these first two points is simple: by spending a lot of time directly in nature, by interacting with nature, and by growing ecological knowledge, you develop a robust knowledge base that can be drawn upon when the need arises–and that need can sometimes happen quickly and without warning.

 

#3 – A Nature-Oriented Mindset and Lifestyle

Its one thing to know about nature, and its a completely different thing to have a mindset and lifestyle oriented to nature. We can’t be ambassadors for nature if we say one thing and do another; if our words don’t match our actions.  For one, it will be hypocritical and for two, ineffective.  And for examples of this, I point to Thomas Friedman and Al Gore, both of whom tried to make strong points about the earth and climate change, encouraging less consumption, and new ways of living, and both of whom were called out publicly in many venues because of their personal living conditions and for not walking the walk. Thomas Friedman lives in a 12,000 square foot house and advocates for smaller dwellings and less consumption. Gore, who advocates that climate change is human caused and that we need to radically change our lives, lives in a 20,000 square foot house and uses up $30,000 of electricity–that’s 221,000 KWH–in a single year. And you are lecturing everyone else on reducing consumption? Uh, yeah. Don’t be these guys.

 

Living consciously and earth-centered is hard work–it takes continual monitoring, dedicated effort, and critical awareness. A lot of what I’ve been doing on this blog for years is helping all of us (myself included) take more and more steps in this direction by thinking about the stuff we buy, our waste, the food we eat, the way we manage our lands/lawns, our workplaces, or relationship with weather, the list goes on and on.

 

Speaking for the trees!

Speaking for the trees!

I think its important to be forthcoming with where you are in your own shifts, and to be open about that with others. I always try to do that here–I talk about my struggles at various points with wrestling with the issues I’m presenting on this blog, and I encourage others to do the same. Its honest and realistic.  People like Gore and Friedan haven’t actually tried anything they are advocating, and in fact, very much live in the extreme opposite direction–so nobody believes them.  And worse, the topics that they are talking about–which are really serious and important–are discredited.  Gore and Friedan attempted to be earth ambassadors; they have the knowledge and good communication skills backing them, but they fell flat when they told everyone else what to to do rather than living by examples. A much better strategy is to life the lifestyle first and others will come, they will seek your knowledge, and they will want to learn more–that’s what ambassadorship is about!

 

People will look to you for guidance when they see how you are living each day.  This allows you to begin to fill an ambassador role–you show how we can live differently and that lifestyle alone opens up countless possibilities for earth ambassador work. At this point, on a weekly basis, I have people ask me questions that can lead to good conversations: they ask about my beehives and what happened and then we can talk about the dangers of pesticides (I even had this conversation with my students in my first-year writing class a few weeks ago when they asked about my weekend, and I told them about my hive), they hear about the work I’m doing in town to start a food co-op to bring more local and sustainable food choices to our town, or they ask about my front lawn or permaculture, the list goes on and on. People send me photos of wild food and mushrooms to identify, like a photo of a “weed” and I tell them about its medicinal use so they keep it in their yards, and so on. I didn’t get into this with the idea of being an earth ambassador–but that’s what’s evolved from it :).

 

#4 – A willingness to serve and seizing opportunity

Most of the work of an earth ambassador is quiet work.  Building knowledge, immersing yourself in nature, making shifts, just working to do good work everyday, celebrating the turning wheel of the year with good friends. But then, an opportunity arises–and when it does–take advantage of it!  My own opportunity came two years ago, where I ended up on NPR talking about Eastern Hemlock trees, their mythology, and their plight with the Emerald Ash Borer. A producer saw my blog post on them and contacted me to speak about the hemlocks. This was a rare opportunity, and one I decided not to pass up. It was a really interesting experience and allowed me to get the word out. Other opportunities happen all the time–not as public, perhaps, as being on NPR, but no less important.

 

Opportunities to be earth ambassadors often come in unexpected ways or places. A dear friend and fellow druid in New Hampshire has found himself in a leadership position fighting an oil pipeline and compressor station–and building an incredible community in the process. Having a deep awareness of the sacred earth has helped him tremendously on this path.

 

Another druid friend was invited to a local conference to give talks on wild food foraging, composting, and permaculture.  A third druid friend finds herself often in the position of advocacy.  Another converted her front lawn to vegetables and now teaches others to do the same.  I can list dozens of examples; my point is, when you have the knowledge, you can use it to strongly advocate for our land and its rights.

 

So to conclude, druids and others walking earth-centered spiritual paths have a unique opportunity to fill in a very important role in our communities–that of earth ambassadors. What, exactly, is the potential of those in modern earth-based spiritual paths to serve as earth ambassadors?  We only know if we try!