Yet the mind-set the building itself expressed was, in the end, hierarchical: the worshippers stood in the nave, and the clergy presided from the high altar, at the top of the stairs that led into the choir and sanctuary. The building told the stories of the Christian faith, articulated in stained glass and statuary for those who could not read. The building was not merely a worship space but a teaching tool, that helped people to understand the world from a certain point of view.
Are there buildings that express today's world-views in similar fashion? In my more cynical moments, I choose as contenders an ugly Walmart big box store crammed with merchandise, or the financial maelstrom called the New York Stock Exchange. But these express only two aspects of our society: consumerism and the pursuit of wealth. Fortunately for the future of the planet, there are other options, both philosophically and architecturally!
Most notably, there is the building that has recently risen on the Oberlin College campus, the Lewis Center for Environmental Studies.
The building grew out of an idea which saw first light in an environmental architecture class taught by Oberlin professor David Orr, a well-known environmental scientist. A first-year student in the class described the project as an opportunity to "re-think the whole concept of buildings.... It is to be a learning experience as soon as you enter it." The ideal building began first in the imagination of David Orr and his students: "Upon entering this building," Orr wrote, "you will feel light and heat, hear the sounds of running water, breathe in the vital greenhouse air. As you experience this building, it will actively engage you in a dialogue of wonder."
Gradually, the idea took more solid shape. The environmental center was to serve the entire Oberlin community, not just the college, and was to be built of sustainable materials and utilize sustainable energy. Idea was added to idea, as students, faculty, and townspeople gathered in regular meetings to brainstorm about the project.
Ideas need funding, however, and David Orr's next months were spent carrying the gospel of architectural sustainability far and wide. He found an eager listener in the young philanthropist Adam Joseph Lewis, the prime contributor to the project, as well as in many others who responded to David's message.
The architect William McDonough, noted spokesperson for green architecture, was chosen to design the building. On Sept. 25, 1998, ground was broken for the new building. William McDonough wrote in the program: "The design for the building is both 'restorative' and 'regenerative'; it addresses how architectural design may reverse the environmental stresses brought on by the industrial revolution. To this end, we have considered how the building can be fecund, like a tree, accruing solar income to the benefit of living systems and absorbing water quickly and releasing it slowly in a healthy state.
"At its most fundamental level, the Center is a place of wonder and beauty which celebrates the interaction of human and natural environments. The design of the Adam Joseph Lewis Center for Environmental Studies blurs the distinction between indoors and outdoors. Indoor spaces are filled with daylight, and are naturally ventilated. The light-filled, two-story atrium provides the campus with a winter garden--and interior meeting place, warmed by the sun...."
According to McDonough, this was the first time so many green technologies were integrated into a one public building. "Imagine buildings that produce their own oxygen, distill water, accrue solar energy, change with the seasons, and produce no waste." A net energy exporter, the Lewis Center would create more energy than would be needed for operation and would use advanced techniques to reduce the energy demands of the building to a fraction of normal levels.
The community watched with interest as the open space between two dormitories turned into a building project, and an elegantly simple building that could well have been claimed by the Shakers began to rise. Just one week short of two years after the ground-breaking, the building was dedicated, a green cathedral shaped by the philosophy of sustainability and made possible by some of the most skilled minds in the technological field, from NASA and Living Machines to a cadre of landscape architects, civil and structural engineers, and specialists in lighting, acoustics, energy, and solar design.
Like a tree, the Lewis Center relies upon current solar income and the natural energy flows created by the sun. Solar energy is harnessed both through photovoltaic cells on the building's south-facing roof and passive solar design elements which shade the summer sun while allowing winter heat gain.
Even sustainably produced electricity is not wasted, however: at night or on a dull day, lights are not activated until a sensor sends the message that someone needs them. The ventilation of each of the building's spaces is individually controlled, providing 100% fresh air. A raised floor system provides an underfloor space for air supply, and also gives long-term flexibility for electrical, data, and communication wiring.
One of the Center's advanced technologies is its biological wastewater treatment system, or "Living Machine." Located within the building beside the airy atrium, the Living Machine looks more and more every day like a miniature jungle. It replaces chemical treatment of waste water with a series of ponds in which diverse communities of living organisms, including both plants and microorganisms, remove harmful bacteria from the water by replicating the natural cleansing and filtering processes of wetlands. Eventually the Living Machine will be connected to the landscape outside, allowing water to flow from the purification tanks inside to a larger pond outdoors, and the "gray water" (although purer now than tap water!) will be recycled to the toilets for reuse.
Heating and cooling are accomplished through a geothermal system. Water circulates through twenty-four closed-loop geothermal wells to water-source heat pumps located throughout the building. All the materials in the Lewis Center are sustainable, durable, and low-maintenance: steel, aluminum, ceramic tiles, and certified forest products. When I was first shown the auditorium, I was told to get close to the wall and inhale. It smelled like a sunny summer day in the country. "Wheatstraw!" my guide told me. Oberlin College leases the auditorium carpeting and upholstery from the manufacturer, who has designed them for continuous disassembly and reuse.
The building is surrounded by four "landscapes." An indigenous landscape creates a microcosm of the hardwood forests once common to Northern Ohio. The pond, an aquatic landscape surrounded by vegetation typical of a wetland, processes and cleanses stormwater and run-off from the sidewalks and grounds surrounding the Center. A food-growing landscape consisting of orchards and gardens will help students learn about growing food. And, because this is a college campus, the all-important social landscape--the Sun Plaza, North Plaza, paths, and walks--will provide places for the all-important "hanging out." Even hanging out on the Sun Plaza can educate: in the center, a tall pole or "gnomon" provides a contemporary version of Stonehenge, mapping the solar year as its shadow falls on the ground below.
Like the medieval cathedral, the Lewis Center is indeed a teaching tool, what David Orr calls a "building as a pedagogue." Its curriculum of cement, steel, aluminum, ceramic, and water teaches the themes of sustainability, self-sufficiency, and interrelationship.
Like the tree which inspired this architectural venture, the Lewis Center will change. The building will become more and more a product of what William McDonough, in an article in the October 1998 Atlantic Monthly, termed "The NEXT Industrial Revolution." To dramatize the difference between the first one and the "next" one, he imagines presenting the Industrial Revolution as a retroactive design assignment. What if one were to ask our nineteenth-century ancestors to design a system of production that does the following things?
* puts billions of pounds of toxic material into the air, water, and soil every year
* measures prosperity by activity, not legacy
* requires thousands of complex regulations to keep people and natural systems from being poisoned too quickly
* produces materials so dangerous that they will require constant vigilance from future generations
* results in gigantic amounts of waste
* puts valuable materials in holes all over the planet, where they can never be retrieved
* erodes the diversity of biological species and cultural practices.
The image McDonough uses for the Next Industrial Revolution is not a mechanical one but an organic, poetic one:
"Consider the cherry tree. It makes thousands of blossoms just so that another tree might germinate, take root, and grow. Who would notice piles of cherry blossoms littering the ground in the spring and think, 'How inefficient and wasteful'? The tree's abundance is useful and safe. After falling to the ground, the blossoms return to the soil and become nutrients for the surrounding environment. Every last particle contributes in some way to the health of a thriving ecosystem. 'Waste equals food'--the first principle of the Next Industrial Revolution."
The technology of the Next Industrial Revolution respects the interdependence of all living systems. In McDonough's words, industrial design can create products "that work within cradle-to-cradle life cycles rather than cradle-to-grave ones...it is time for designs that are creative, abundant, prosperous, and intelligent from the start." Like a cherry tree.
We are a very small town to be graced with such a cathedral. Like the peasants and pilgrims who visited the medieval cathedral and came away inspired to live in a way that expressed that cathedral's theology, the Lewis Center has worked its magic on the surrounding community as well as the world at large. My husband and I, for example, needed a new furnace this year, and called our friend Tom Monroe of Monroe's Heating and Cooling for help. We sat at our dining room table with charts spread before us, considering how to purchase the most efficient furnace possible, and whether we could afford the cost--and the guilt--of including air-conditioning. In the midst of our conversation, Tom said very quietly, "Maybe you'd like to consider geo-thermal."
We knew the moment he said it what our decision would be. We knew what geothermal heat and cooling was, because of the Lewis Center. And our own world-views have come more and more to parallel the one expressed in that building.
So it wasn't long before two local farmers whose fields were still too muddy to plow, came with their equipment to dig four wells 150 feet deep in our front yard. Since this is a small town, we were an object of curiosity during the process. For six days, our yard looked like an oil field. The drills dug through heavy clay and, at about seventy-five feet, hit a vein of sand. Then they hit rock. What could have taken four days took six, but finally the farmers installed the pipes containing the solution which would bring the earth's 55 degrees up to the surface to be compressed until the temperature matches our thermostat setting. The connection was made to our shiny new furnace as well as to our water heater, the gas lines were capped, and Tom, who is also a bee-keeper, celebrated the occasion by giving us a gift of Monroe's honey.
Our home is now being heated (and, when we need it, cooled in the summer, as the process is reversed and the Ohio heat gets buried 150 feet deep) by Mother Earth, with only a small amount of electricity to run the heat pumps or to give the geothermal system a boost in the coldest weather. This totally confuses the gas company, which, even a year later, insists that our meter reading must be inaccurate since it indicates only the small amount of gas I use in cooking.
The muddy eyesore that was our front yard has been leveled, so passing motorists no longer stop to gape. But we get lots of questions, "How do you like your geothermal?" We like it. We like the murmur of the heat pumps, the "swoosh" when it changes from one cycle to another, the evenness of the heat it gives us. But most of all we like the fact that it lessens our ecological footprint on the planet, and expresses in a small way our philosophy of life, which is so well communicated on a grander scale in the Lewis Center a few blocks away.
Nancy Roth is a writer and clergywoman who is trying to do her part in contributing to our evolving ecological culture. She lives in Oberlin, Ohio.
©2001* Talking Leaves
Spring/Summer 2001
Volume 11, Number 1
Tools for Sustainability/Eco-Humor
TL: What can you tell us about the early years of Talking Leaves? What led you into publishing? What was your vision for the journal? How did it evolve during your time as editor?
CM: I started Talking Leaves in 1989 at the suggestion of a friend who felt there was a spiritual hole that needed to be filled in the Eugene area. I had received an inheritance and spent most of it the first year publishing and editing Talking Leaves. Within a few months I met Lone Wolf Circles (Jesse "Wolf" Hardin) and he turned me on to the Deep Ecology movement. The Deep Ecology movement was just beginning and Talking Leaves quickly became a voice for spirit and ecology. We became the voice of all species. Talking Leaves grew rapidly and we gained worldwide recognition. Talking Leaves was a free local publication for the first five years, though we had national and international paid subscribers.
TL: Why did you choose the name Talking Leaves?
CM: I read a book called Seven Arrows by Hyemeyohsts Storm, which is the story of the Plains Native Peoples. In the book one of the native people has a vision of the white man coming and he talks about the power of the railroad, firearms and war and "Even the Power of Talking Leaves." The Power of "Talking Leaves" (pages carrying printed words) to the native people meant an end to their culture which has historically been based on oral storytelling as a way of passing on the traditional ways of living in balance with the land. As a publication, Talking Leaves was established to bring back the stories of both the people and the plants and animals.
Years later I met a Cherokee man and he informed me that the first written Cherokee language was called "Talking Leaves" and was written on the bark of trees.
TL: How did you become interested in alternative-fiber paper?
CM: I had been publishing and editing an ecology magazine for seven years at the time. Because it was an ecology magazine and out there fighting for the forests, when I discovered that I didn't have to use wood to make paper, I knew I had to make the switch. The impacts of the forest-destructive pulp and paper industry are pretty obvious to the people who read this magazine. Old growth ecosystems are being felled at an alarming rate for newsprint and toilet paper as well as other types of paper and building materials. Replacing a percentage of that fiber for pulp and paper with nonwood fibers is a big step in the right direction. You cannot replace an old growth forest with plantation trees and still have a living forest system. Not to mention the greenhouse effect that these forests shield the planet against.
TL: What did you discover as you researched ecologically-friendly sources of paper for Talking Leaves?
CM: In 1994 when I started this process there was little alternative fiber paper to be had for publishing purposes, and that is still true today. Living Tree Paper Company is a pioneer in creating a positive solution to current destructive forest practices. By using alternative fibers in pulp and papermaking we are showing the way to a more sustainable future. I also have to credit the pioneering work of Earth Island's Rethink Paper project which created an activist center where people could learn about what the alternatives were and where to get them. This project became defunct a couple of years ago but there are some people who are currently trying to revive the website. Co-op America and Rainforest Action Network were, and still are, actively promoting the concept of using alternative fibers for paper as well as encouraging consumers to consume less and use products that contain high levels of post-consumer recycled resources.
The paper that I first used when I switched Talking Leaves to tree-free came from China. The paper did not meet the standards of the western world's printing industry and jammed the presses. I ended up traveling to Eastern Europe and Russia in search of good quality tree-free paper. There were a couple of paper mills in Eastern Europe that were making a quality product but it was pretty expensive. In the end I hooked up with one of the world's leading suppliers of nonwood specialty pulps (which included hemp) and we started working together to make tree-free papers.
TL: What led you to seek a new publisher for Talking Leaves?
CM: I started my paper business in 1994 and continued to publish Talking Leaves into 1996. I had a very difficult time doing both. The early stages of my business were a financial struggle and Talking Leaves had always required my energy full-time. I had to let Talking Leaves go if I was to make a success of the business. So I called you and the other people at Lost Valley who had worked with me on the magazine. Thank the goddess it was good timing and you were able to do it. And you've done such a good job!
TL: What did you discover about hemp and other alternative fibers for paper-making in terms of their ecological impacts, social impacts, quality, practicality, and economic viability? How do you judge whether a product is "sustainable"?
CM: At this particular time in history, and because of the way the world moves its economy, nothing is totally sustainable. Until we actually live on the planet in a bioregional economic way, people will continue to depend on fossil fuel, industrial agriculture, plantation forestry, etc. In the meantime we need to develop sustainable models that will eventually replace the current practices of industry.
The paper industry in modern times is obviously not sustainable. With Living Tree Paper Company we are trying to impress upon the paper industry that consumers want more sustainable products. Between businesses like ours and activist pressure, the industry is being forced to make changes that benefit the environment. Using hemp, flax, or straw residue is definitely more sustainable than cutting forests. However, you still have the problem of industrial agriculture and monoculture in the growing of hemp or flax. Straw is probably the most promising fiber for paper as it is a residue of an established industry that is normally burned or landfilled.
TL: What raw materials do you choose for Living Tree Paper products, and why? What processes are used in manufacture, and in what ways do they differ from standard paper-making practices? In what ways do you believe your products are sustainable, and in what ways are you still developing more sustainable methods and sources?
CM: We use hemp and flax and post-consumer waste (recycled office paper). Our nonwood fibers are grown in western Europe and shipped over to the US as dry pulp. We hope to be a part of a nonwood fiber pulping project here in the US or Canada over the next few years. Shipping across the ocean is not exactly sustainable. However, our nonwood pulps are processed in a state-of-the-art pulp mill that uses a closed-loop system and is totally chlorine-free. I believe we have the most environmentally sound pulping process available. Some of the bigger companies have used sugarcane waste (bagasse) but all of the bagasse pulp is chlorine bleached. The sugarcane industry is also as unsustainable as cotton due to chemical impacts.
Papermaking is not the problem--most of the pollution from the industry is in the pulping processes.
TL: How would you like to see the paper and fiber industries evolve in this country and around the world? How can consumers, farmers, government, and industry people work together to promote this evolution?
CM: I would like to see a moratorium around the world with respect to extraction from old growth ecosystems. I think we need state-of-the-art regional nonwood pulp mills that are built next to fiber sources. For example, in the midwest corn belt, a pulp mill could use all the corn waste. In Winnipeg, Canada there is plenty of flax straw to feed a mill. On the west coast of the US we have wheat and rice straw available. Along with the straw waste we should be growing some flax and hemp to strengthen the shorter fibers for producing quality paper products.
I think the industrial hemp movement is a good example of how consumers, farmers, industry, and government are working together to promote this evolution. The farmers have been key in passing legislation for the legalization of industrial hemp in a lot of states. North Dakota has had the strongest legislation to date. A Republican House Representative for the State of Hawaii, Representative Cynthia Thielen, passed legislation allowing the first hemp seed in around 50 years to be planted on Hawaiian soil.
There is a nonwood sector of the paper industry and many people in that sector are looking towards new ways of utilizing nonwood fibers within the paper industry. A lot of research is being done on creating new types of pulping facilities in different regions of North America.
TL: Is "sustainability" determined more by what specific materials are used or consumed, or by consumption levels? Does it matter whether paper is made of trees or of old socks, if we still consume too much of it?
CM: Consumerism, of course, is the problem. The internet was supposed to alleviate a lot of paper consumption but from what I understand it has had the opposite effect. The world's population continues to grow and more resources are bound to be consumed. I think we are better off consuming products that are made from renewable or recycled resources.
TL: How can we consume less?
CM: Live simply so others may simply live!
TL: Permaculture is a design system which attempts to create more ecological, sustainable ways of living through (among other things) greater use of perennial plants and less reliance on annual plants. Wes Jackson's Land Institute is attempting to do the same thing by developing "natural systems agriculture," replacing our annual grain crops with perennial grain crops. The campaign to replace trees (perennial plants) with hemp and some other alternative fiber crops (many of them annuals, requiring frequent soil disturbance) seems to run counter to this trend. What do you see as the advantages and disadvantages of annual versus perennial fiber crops? What do you think are the ideal fiber crops?
CM: I think you are comparing apples and oranges. The permaculture model is not intended to create a bast fiber crop to feed a paper machine. The amount of hemp and flax and straw needed to feed the economies of scale of a paper mill is still enormous. Hemp and flax should be grown rotationally with crops that can replenish the soil. Natural systems of agriculture and agroforestry are being implemented on a global scale. I believe this is the direction we need to flow into but in the meantime big industry continues to gobble up the forests.
TL: What different stages has Living Tree Paper gone through? Do you have any advice for others starting this kind of business?
CM: When I started this business, I had little money but great determination. The idea of paper made from something other than trees touched the deepest level of my convictions. It was difficult going in the early years because of lack of money and the need to develop a product that was cost-competitive with similar types of paper. My business partner and I spent a good six months writing a business plan and creating a private stock offering and in the end were able to raise money to move forward. A couple of years ago we finally hooked up with a mill that could produce our paper at a competitive price. Now we have some large volume customers like Nike and Patagonia.
Anyone starting an entrepreneurial business has to take the first step and develop a business plan. The business plan tells the entrepreneur how much money is needed to get the business going, and helps one to know what the markets are and who are the competitors. Creating a business plan is the hardest part but the most necessary one.
TL: What have you learned in the last five or six years about "sustainable" fiber materials? How has your understanding of the paper business evolved?
CM: The most sustainable way to use alternative fibers would be to have processing plants near the fiber source, as I said before. What I have learned about the paper industry is that it is controlled by a handful of very large companies and distributors. All of the buy-outs, mergers, and bankruptcies have actually benefited a small niche market company like Living Tree because the bigger companies concentrate on selling large volumes of their wood paper products. The wood part of the industry has little understanding of the environmental movement or what people want and why. Some grassroots activists' organizations are focusing on pressuring large corporations to sign pledges not to use old growth and other endangered forests in their products. This works faster than trying to get government environmental regulations. It has been amazingly effective and very helpful in our marketing efforts.
TL: During your years starting and running this business, what have you learned about people, about the business world, about our society, about yourself?
CM: I started out as a do-gooder activist from Oregon who knew relatively nothing about business or paper. I had to learn a lot of paper and print industry lingo as well as learn about paper. I also had a crash course with my pulp supplier in learning the properties and uses of nonwood fibers in pulp and paper. I am now a member of the Technical Association of the Pulp and Paper Industry (TAPPI) and I sit on the nonwood fiber committee. In 1998 I was invited to be on a panel at the prestigious TAPPI Nonwood Symposium and the paper I wrote was published in their journal along with the papers from the "real" experts in the nonwood pulp and paper industry. It was pretty intimidating giving a talk in front of the world's most experienced industry players. But I managed to pull it off and make a lot of good contacts.
TL: What is your personal relationship with your work, and how has it evolved? What keeps you going? How much longer do you think you will work in this field? Is the work still exciting? What do you like, and not like, about your job? Do you consider it "sustainable" personally?
CM: I really love what I do and how I have set up my business. The home office is the hub and we are connected to the world through phone and internet. Many things are connected to paper and there is always something new to learn. The business is my activism and my livelihood. By 2050 it is expected that pulp and paper manufacture will account for over half of the world's industrial wood demand. The pulp and paper industry uses more water to produce a ton of product than any other industry.
Worldwide, pulp and paper is the fifth largest industrial consumer of energy. These are some of the realities that keep me going from an activist viewpoint. Living Tree Paper Company is reaching a level of sales and consumer interest that is making industry players take a harder look at their environmental records.
This work takes me all over the world to network and attend relevant conferences. This is still exciting. I have made a lot of new friends over the past seven years creating this business. I am also on the Board of Directors of the Hemp Industries Association (HIA), and this allows me to be politically active as well. I have also helped to create an industrial hemp Non-Governmental Organization (as a part of the HIA non-profit) to bring to the international arena issues surrounding the growing use of hemp, nonwood fibers, and subsequent value-added products insofar as they relate to the development of sustainable ecosystems, communities, and economies. The hemp NGO is requesting that the UN Commission on Sustainable Development appoint a special commission for study of crops and plants that can contribute to more sustainable bioregionally-based industries.
TL: What is the future of Living Tree Paper--in the near term, and in the long term? Is it a sustainable business? Why, or why not?--or what will determine whether it is or not?
CM: The future is looking bright at the moment. We have a lot of irons in the fire. We are researching and developing new products. The markets and interest continue to grow. We have been developing cutting-edge products from an environmental point of view. Living Tree paper products encompass both the idea of using annual plants instead of trees for fiber, and the concept of recycling and reusing. All of this saves trees, energy, and reduces water use. The growth of consumer demand and the continued pressure of activists' organizations toward big corporations will ultimately support our long term success and viability.
TL: What are the principles, concerns, or passions that have guided your life and your work throughout their different stages? How do these manifest themselves now, in addition to your work with Living Tree Paper? How do you see them being manifested in the future?
CM: The strongest passion and concern that has guided my life has been for environmental issues. I have been a lover of nature and animals ever since I was born. When I was a kid I brought home every stray animal I came across. I learned how to ride horses when I was five years old and continued to use horseback riding as my excuse to get out of the suburbs and into nature. In the mid-'70s I was part of the "back to the land" movement and lived in the Oregon coast range for over a decade tending a large organic garden. This is where I received my first bird's eye view of what is happening to the forests in the northwest. I started this business endeavor as a way of offering a better solution to current destructive forest practices. I am committed to making this business a great success and I don't see myself straying off this path for the foreseeable future.
TL: What has been your relationship with Talking Leaves since Lost Valley assumed publication? How do you feel about its direction in recent years?
CM: Most of my relationship with Talking Leaves since Lost Valley assumed responsibility is to make sure at least the cover of the magazine is published on Living Tree paper. I was so grateful that Lost Valley and you were able to take it on when I was being totally consumed by the paper business. I think you are doing a great job and it has been a wonderfully smooth transition. It is a great honor to watch something one has poured their heart and soul into for almost a decade continue to flourish.
TL: What, in life, is most important to you?
CM: Health, good friends, family, nature, plants and animals. Though my work is extremely important, it does not take the place of the community of support that has helped me through the difficult times and celebrated with me when things are running smoothly. I also have a family of felines that are a very important part of my life. Times of solitude and contemplation also rank high on the list of importance.
TL: What else would you like to say to our readers?
CM: Stay close to the Earth, as that is where the real power comes from. And, as my dear departed friend Harriet Kofalk used to say, "Expand that place of peace within."
Carolyn Moran is founder and President of Living Tree Paper Company, phone: 800-309-2974, 541-342-2974, website: http:// www.livingtreepaper.com , email: [email protected]
©2001* Talking Leaves
Spring/Summer 2001
Volume 11, Number 1
Tools for Sustainability/Eco-Humor
Sales of the FIC's 456-page Directory have been swift, and the book's extensive maps, charts, community descriptions, and articles have guided many community-seekers and attracted the attention of major print and broadcast media. Nevertheless, ACIC insists, the Directory is not enough.
This Spring sees the release of Intentional Communities Guide 2001. At 1200 pages, it lends itself less easily to packing on a bicycle tour. However, say its creators, it is worth every ounce of its hefty eleven-pound bulk.
"With all due respect," Guide editor Dirk Grasshopper Jones of Wayward Canyon Educational Center explained in a recent interview, "the Directory was a tremendous effort. Yet I discovered, as I perused it, that some of the most vital information I'd want when looking for a community was nowhere to be found."
What makes the new Guide different? "We surveyed every community about the truly essential issues in community life, as we saw them. Our cross-reference charts alone take up over 500 pages, because we wanted to include the information that really matters most in choosing a community home."
The charts reveal the "inside scoop" on a number of community phenomena, including:
* Ogres: number of "ogres" who reside at the community
* Ogre factor: number of ogres expressed as percentage of community population
* Ogre financial investment: percentage financial stake those ogres hold in the community as a whole, and/or percentage of the community's outstanding debts owed to those ogres
* Ogre/founder index: percentage of ogres who are also original founders of the community
* Dog discussion share: percentage of community meeting time in which discussions, debates, or conflicts involving dogs are the meeting's primary focus
* Cat/non-livestock-pet discussion share: a similar measurement, this time for the percentage of community meeting time dedicated to issues surrounding cats and other pets (excluding dogs and livestock)
* Livestock discussion share: a broad category, covering percentage of community meeting time dedicated to chickens, ducks, goats, sheep, cows, and other animals kept or potentially kept by the community for their utility and/or as "farm" pets
* Diet discussion share: percentage meeting time dedicated to discussions, debates, or conflicts related to choice of food and food buying policies
* Kitchen sanitation discussion share: percentage meeting time in which kitchen sanitation is the primary focus
* Kitchen cleanliness factor: the average percentage of kitchen surfaces that are clean at any one time, added to the average percentage of community pots, pans, and cooking/serving utensils that are clean at any one time, then divided in two
* Dish cleanliness factor: the average percentage of the community's eating utensils --plates, bowls, glasses, mugs, spoons, forks, knives, and chopsticks--that are clean at any one time
* Days-to-compost: the average number of days compostable kitchen scraps sit in plastic containers in the kitchen or dining hall before being taken away
* Children discussion share: percentage of community meeting time devoted to discussions, debates, or conflicts concerning appropriate numbers, roles, and guidelines for children and for adults engaged in child-rearing--broken down into subsets (each listed separately in the Guide) including:
* Sugar and junk food issues* Computers per resident: the total number of personal and community computers divided by the total number of human residents
* Toy weapons issues
* Television/mass media exposure issues
* Educational and child/parent counseling philosophies
* Pokemon
The charts also feature check-marks indicating "yes: in-house," "yes: out-of-house," and "no" as answers to the question, "Does this community have access to a...?" in the following categories:
* Photocopier
* Fax machine
* Electrician
* Car mechanic
* Plumber
* Dentist
* Chiropractor
* Massage Therapist
* Lawyer
* Mediator
* Tae Kwon Do Instructor
* Karaoke Bar
* Cash Machine
* Stand-Up Comedian
* Stereo
* Newspaper
Sixty-five pages of maps, showing the location of every community listed, are specially-designed to be useful to a broad range of community-seekers. Suggested hitchhiking routes, "best RV routes," and public and private airports and helicopter-landing pads are all shown. Community descriptions for each group supplement the cross-reference charts by providing even more detailed information, including a week's worth of typical breakfast, lunch, and dinner menus.
More than five dozen articles concern individuals' experiences of searching for and living in intentional community, advice for current and prospective communitarians, and broader issues within the movement. Titles include "Finding a Community Toaster that Toasts but Doesn't Burn," "This Doesn't Seem Like Kansas Anymore," "Securing Your Private Coffee Stash," "The Energy-Conserver's Dilemma: What to Do when Someone Else's Lights Are On but Nobody's Home," "My Family Lives in Another Conceptual Galaxy, but I'm OK with It," "Dealing with the Peanut Gallery: Tips for Song-Leaders," "Scapegoats and Sheep: Power Struggles and Interpersonal Dynamics in the Turn-of-the-Millennium Community," "Relaying Phone Messages: Tales of Triumph and Disaster," and "Listening to NPR: Stepping toward a More Peaceful, Just World, Stumbling into Co-optation, or Staggering into Cynicism?--A Community Discussion."
A special section on "Detentional Communities," written by ACIC's paroled ex-treasurer Russ Reina, features his tips for "finding, living off of, and fleeing" community, complete with over 800 listings and escape routes. Editor Grasshopper Jones also contributes an autobiographical sketch detailing his personal evolution in relation to his dog, his family, his community, and the world, as well as an explanation of why the Guide seemed like such an essential project to him, despite the existence of the FIC's Directory.
The ACIC's Intentional Communities Guide 2001 is available for $89.95 plus $17.95 shipping directly from the Associated Confederation of Intentional Communities, c/o Dirk Grasshopper Jones, Wayward Canyon Educational Center, 888 Wayward Canyon Lane, Ambush, OR 97999 (checks payable to Russ Reina).
If you have any money left over and want to compare, you can still order Communities Directory 2000 for $34 postpaid from FIC, 138 Twin Oaks Rd., Louisa, VA 23093, order at ic dot org, 1-800-462-8240.
Water Wordsworth's abiding fascination with community gives him succor after arguments with his partner, Annette Pecker.
©2001* Talking Leaves
Spring/Summer 2001
Volume 11, Number 1
Tools for Sustainability/Eco-Humor
Early on, I met some of the leaders in the deep ecology movement. I was quite disappointed to learn they weren't living in a way that reflected their writing or speeches. They weren't the rugged forest people of my dreams. At twenty-one, fresh out of college, I was ready to act. My life had been full of words and thoughts, but little action. I had heard over and over again that actions spoke louder than words. So with my backpack of food and gear, I voluntarily dropped out of mass society.
Sustainability means something quite different to me now than it did when I removed myself from town life and relocated to a remote community nestled in the mountains of Northern California. What it had meant then was living in a primitive way, using the simplest methods for attaining food, shelter, warmth, and clothing. I was ready to wash my clothes on rocks in a river, use rendered varmint fat lamps at night, and sleep in the dirt. Following this notion, I grew most of my food (at least 75%) by hand, using a digging fork, a rake, and a wheelbarrow with little outside sources of fertilizer. For several years, this took most of my time. It fed me and others. I found that life could be sustained with relatively few materials aside from the vast resources of the soil and sun. This lesson, along with the people I've shared it with here, has brought me much happiness and growth.
Changing my life in this way has changed my whole being. Physical, emotional, and spiritual aspects of myself have developed that I believe would never have been cultivated had I not moved into the woods.
I have stayed very physically active, which has kept my body strong and healthy. A chronic ailment has almost completely ceased. The act of growing my food and consuming it has been my medicine. This personal benefit alone has helped my family accept my chosen lifestyle. We live in a way that requires little money, but demands large amounts of physical effort. We are continually stretching our bodies. We truly work for our living.
Recently we've been building a home. When I dreamed of building, I fully realized it was just that, a dream. Most people use large sums of money to buy materials. Even if we had money, hauling in materials created with large inputs of energy to this remote spot seemed too energy-intensive. As with any project here, we made a mental list of what resources we could gather: small trees thinned from the forest, small and large rocks from the garden and river beds, along with dirt from excavation of the site. When I learned about cob, an ancient building style influenced today by sixteenth century Europe, I learned that the Earth would again provide. Now I sit, after a long summer of cobbing, in a home with a rock foundation, earthen walls and poles supporting a wood roof we helped mill. The way we chose to build was less energy-consuming on a planetary level, but energy-intensive on our bodies. Building our home was (and is, for it's not finished yet!) a beautiful approach which has brought many people together in a sharing of life and creation.
I have learned so much about cultural sustainability living in community. Other people have taught me a lot about parenting, crafting, music, and especially about humans. We have created a family here of non-blood-related people with backgrounds that are similar but also diverse. We have come together from many parts of this continent intent on living simply. Though similar, we have our differences. The members of each family relate to one another in unique ways. It has sometimes been our biggest challenge to understand one another across these family lines, in ways that I think blood or the sharing of parents can create. As we grow older, I have realized that one of our main tasks in this life is simply to get along with one another.
Much of the work we do involves a lot of quiet time. I have learned much about myself by spending a majority of my time in silence. After the first few years, growing food became somewhat of a "no brainer." Now I often quickly figure out how I want to do a project, but the project itself may take many hours. Growing up in modern culture, the TV world, and mixed with close to two decades of mental stimulation from schooling, my brain can go rampant if not held in check. My mind wanders into dramas in which I or other community members are the stars. In order to maintain sanity, I've had to learn simple meditation, prayer, and affirmations to avoid slipping into the human abyss of negativity. This is one of the biggest challenges to people living remotely. It often leads to the demise of their lifestyle and sends them back to urbanity. I see the wild creatures and model them. We're all just doing what we can to to survive. Our sustainability relies on our emotional stability.
One summer day a man came here. I offered him a drink of water from the little spring pool outside the house. He stood in the sun, looked out to the garden in all its summer vibrancy, stared me in the eye and said gently, "You know you live in paradise, don't you? You know that." I do know that, but I also know that at times I can't see this heaven because I am wallowing in a cerebral hell. Everyday, like most folks around the world, I am doing my best to stay positive and inspired. I still have much to learn.
My dream of enlightenment includes perpetual reverence of this place and all that reside here. Being amongst such awesome natural beauty I am often jolted out of my mundane thoughts by noticing a simple natural event such as an eagle soaring above me. Experiences like this one connect me back into beauty and life. Sometimes I've thought that the destructive, unsustainable practices in our mass society are due to the lack of beauty experienced in urban settings. If nature isn't in full view, how can humans make ecologically appropriate decisions?
In nature I find the sacred. Living here has brought a heightened sense of the spiritual because the spirit speaks to me through it. I can sing or pray or just be in awe. Most people feel security through their finances or through the locks on their doors. I find security in the earth and I live on faith. Through the Spirit, I find endurance. This is sustainability.
In the first years that I lived here, we were creating what we called a "closed system." A closed system acts as its own mini-universe. Following the laws of physics, energy can not be created nor destroyed in this system. All resources come from the land or area and provide the primary needs of food, shelter, and clothing. Wastes go back into the closed system to be transformed. This was my ideal. Each input of manure, clothing, food, and such seemed to me a little failure. But we gloried in the bounty provided by the earth.
Old inputs into the system often create non-transformable waste. We haven't gloried in the output of trash. Getting rid of garbage is difficult the farther you are from a dump, unless you create your own disposal site, which inevitably leads to land becoming trashed. Much of our garbage, mostly plastic, comes in with our input of humans in the forms of guests or short-term residents. We have a policy of guests packing out whatever they've brought in. This helps us and helps them realize what garbage they create.
In a sustainable lifestyle, waste management is a complex issue. Inflow of people means more "unsustainable" technologies and more garbage, but with the advantage of more human diversity. Outflow of us means more "unsustainable" technology use, but enables us to earn money, learn skills, and experience more human diversity. We do create more garbage when out. Walking a mile to our house from our car (and having to cross a river in between) really helps eliminate unnecessary stuff at our cars before it winds up at home. Still, if I were to want to move, the backpack I carried in here in 1989 would now be filled along with a couple of truck loads.
Sometimes it feels like we are constantly being barraged with stuff and we have to put up a guard or be engulfed. I'm not always appreciative of people's generosity. This is so different from older cultures. Sometimes I think about how difficult it was for primitive cultures to meet their primary needs. I realize that we are ungrateful at times. The things that come here are often other peoples' discards: tools, clothes, books, buckets, blankets, etc. They come with their blessings and their burdens. Clothing, once a time-consuming handcraft essential for keeping one's body warm, is now hauled from this country to other continents on barges, sold by the pound. Most people these days have too much stuff, and it comes from all over the world. In part this is due to the cheapness of foreign labor (often virtually indistinguishable from slave labor), the mechanization of industry, and advertising. This global economic structure is extremely energy-intensive and completely unsustainable.
We try to make best use of everything we have. For the most part, our clothes are so thrashed by the time we are done with them that they are of little use to anyone even in the third world. We have taken to cutting articles of our natural fiber clothing up into conveniently sized squares and using them as "butt wipe." Just a little helpful hint for sustainable living. In a remote setting, far from the neighborhood store, people rely on their ingenuity and resourcefulness. When they want something, they often try to figure out how to make it from what they already have or can harvest, rather than jump in a vehicle and zip down to the store (which takes three hours!) to purchase it. They might just decide that they don't really need what they were wanting. These solutions to desires are creative. Making things or doing without often gives people a sense of satisfaction not attained by a credit card, and eliminates the stress of debt. Happiness and stability create sustainability.
I continue to live in this beautiful and remote community way back in the woods. I still grow most of my food. But I have gone from living in a way that was closer to the Earth, less dependent on money and contact with "the outside world," to scaling up (or down, depending on how you look at it) a bit because I couldn't "sustain" it. Sustainability has become a member of a list of catchwords for ecological technologies and lifestyles that may lose meaning through its scattered usage. Through time, I have personalized the concept of sustainability.
I have learned to be realistic in my pursuit of "sustainability." If I can't continue my way of living because my body is breaking down, my relations to other humans are lacking, or my needs aren't being met, it isn't "sustainable," folks! Sustainable means perpetual. It has to do with finding balance within ourselves and with the planet. I am happily continuing to practice sustainability. I try something and through time I distinguish its practicality in my life. I revamp or sustain it and continue on.
I have increased my income, though it's still well under the poverty level. For many seasons, I lived on less than two thousand dollars a year. After the basic expenses of buying the food I can't grow, materials for clothing, and our community dues (which include maintenance and land tax), there weren't funds for what could be considered secondary needs of shelter improvements, vehicles, and travel.
These needs became more substantial for me through time. I began longing to visit family. I experienced a minor emergency that taught me a lesson about the benefits of a financial buffer. I wanted to buy and maintain a vehicle.
So my life has changed a bit. I used to get in a car 5-7 times a year. Now it's up to a couple dozen times. Living so isolated, it is important for me to experience other people. I have found relating to other humans essential. To survive, I need friends and family. Also, going "out" makes me appreciate home.
Living remotely sets one to learning about oneself and establishing a relationship with nature. Life can be challenging in a closed system of human culture, without a tribe or trying to create a tribe from a community. Even tribes mingled. Humans are social creatures. I have found solace from the inflow and outflow of people and circumstances by retreating to the ever-present and sustaining natural world. The modern urban world revolves around constant change, high-speed motion. People immersed in it often seem restless and addicted to newness. The natural world is ever-changing too. But change comes from transformation of old into new into old again. Death becomes life. Life becomes death. Right there, in a deer curling up under a large oak for its last sleep and the oak looking greener the following year. No inputs or outputs, just the same elements continually mixing in the awe-inspiring cycle of life. Nature shows us sustainability in every moment.
Recently I have had an image in my head of something I believe is beautiful. It could seem like a radical thought, and for the average American, it's probably quite morbid. It is the image of young people eating food that has been grown in soil containing the ashes of their ancestors. Connecting with Mother and Father by eating the deliciousness of ripened fruit grown from their life force could awaken people from ignorance into an understanding of the source of our sustenance. This image really gives me peace. I think if we began scattering our ashes in the gardens, we might just respect our elders. We might just create sustainable culture. We might just save our world.
We, as an unsustainable culture, have lost an appreciation for the beauty and lessons the natural world holds. We have lost the awareness of our reliance on the earth. We've exhausted our wonder for this planet and have moved on to others. But none of them as yet have shown any qualities that can sustain us.
From this loss of connection to that which gives us life, comes an even bigger one. In neurological studies, it has been found that modern people use only 10% of their brain! But when aborigines were studied, scientists found that these primitive people used much more. Perhaps in earlier times we had more senses than just five. If so, I believe one that has been lost is our common sense. Another is intuition. Whatever the other 90% of the brain could be doing for us humans, getting back to more primitive living could do this planet a big favor. Through time, I have changed some of the ways I live. I no longer grow my food entirely by hand. A low impact on the earth may mean a high impact on the self. High impact can mean stress on the body, the psyche, or it can mean a "high" impact, a spiritual practice, a meditation. There has to be balance for any implementation to be continued.
I once knew a man who wanted no connections to the modern world. He talked much of closed systems, very rarely got into cars, grew more of his own food (including grains) than anyone I have ever known, and hibernated in the winter like a wild animal. I also spent time with him in a hospital's ICU ward where he was plugged into at least a half-dozen machines that were beeping and blipping, keeping him alive. One tube went straight into his jugular. He was being mainlined with a dose of the system. He survived despite and because of it. The experience has had a profound effect on me. I have learned that sustainability includes flexibility.
After I experienced a few trips to the chiropractor myself, I contemplated gardening with machines while recovering. These days, I'm using larger implements than a garden fork and scythe. I use a rototiller and a mower, too. (It helped to fall in love with a farmer.) These tools, as dependent on nonrenewable resources as they are, enable me to save my back, keep the garden worked and fertilized, and mini-farm, which allows us to make money while staying mostly at home. I am often amazed at how little gas the tiller actually takes. We are able to grow much of our food for home use, and the garlic and flowers to sell, on about five gallons of gas. The savings of time and of wear-and-tear on our bodies are great.
Our small business helps us engage with others, too. We relate to lots of different people in different settings. I appreciate seeing the diversity and interacting with people. It is a way for us to plant little seeds of simple living in many people each year. This is important. It satisfies my need to encourage sustainability, and people support it.
For those of us in pursuit of a sustainable lifestyle, we must reckon with the difficulties of not being part of the norm. Strong societal pressure can pull at us when we are down. In our heads, the cultural messages creep in, telling us how life would be better with a tractor, a "normal" job, cheap food, new store-bought clothes, our bodies shaved, and a TV to entertain us. The status quo says, "buy me. It'll make your life better and easier. Fit in. It'll make you a better person." This status quo has been created to be enticing and seductive, so we will accept it and buy more junk. The closer one is to the mainstream, the more difficult it can be to go against the flow. But we continue to resist. We know we will find our sustenance from the Earth. We have stamina. We have sustainability.
Calleigh Ferrara lives without phone, email, or fax in Mad River, California.
©2001* Talking Leaves
Spring/Summer 2001
Volume 11, Number 1
Tools for Sustainability/Eco-Humor
"I now have the world's largest collection of my own books."
"Mirth First!"
--slogan from an infamously incestuous eco-tribe
Wild, wild, wild! What else can I say? Grab your arm, feel for a pulse! Wildness: that glorious liberatory samba, faith healers and all Gaia's creatures on the path to stay. Not a march of new toys or boy soldiers, and subject to no orders. Boogie to the protest, boogie in front of chain saws, boogie to the untrammeled beach! Rock and roll, stones and biscuits--"this is the real world, muchachos, and we are in it!"
And this is the real beat, free of digital encoding, succesfully evading the prisons of disc and pursuing hounds of tape, tap dancing past the Tupperware, tinseltown, hundred dollar tickets to the show. We don't want to go! It's all right here, in the great wilderness inside us. Yes, a place where bears of passion gobble up our paltry illusions. The place of the original rhythm.
Listen! Listen! It's the heartbeat of the Mother Earth all right--but when she's sexually aroused, not when she's kicked back in her hammock! When she's unbearably happy, and mad as hell! It presses us onwards. Presses the Earth lover to the front lines of destruction. Presses lovers to embrace, and diners to taste. Presses pilgrims in the direction of the light, presses transvestites into clothes that are just a little-bit-too tight. This is it, breaking the ropes, stretching the envelopes...diving into the depths of the soul, and coming out whole.
Gaia, Gaia, Gaia! No white angel in the ebony sky, but a big, black woman I tell you! A hip-swinging, tornado-making force to be reckoned with! She is a cosmic, take-no-crap Aunt Jemima stirring the seas to a froth with her giant ladle. Hugging the little ones when they need consolation. Spanking us when we're bad. She is a model of self-love: she's just crazy about her belly! And death and life to her are just little twinklings in that belly, as existence continuously transforms and ferments. She has no fear, not even of the sun's eventual burnout...for she and the universe are one.
Gaia, Gaia! She is not sexless, no, no! She's an erotic grandmother, rolling and tumbling through nights of interterrestrial intercourse. And when something feels good to us, it feels good to her! Mama Earth is plenty spiritual, but she doesn't "om"--she "mmmmmmmm"s! And "yummmmmmm"s! What is this unnamed power, that includes us and Gaia and God? Tears and giggles? That draws us breathless into our great response-abilities? It is presence and wildness, essence and vastness. It is everything. It is all. It is love...
Love, love, love!
Jesse Wolf Pardoned (a.k.a. Loose Lips Circles) is an apologetic male, Earth hugger, and sensual provocateur, who wishes he were living even more river crossings from the nearest road than he does. Muffy says, "He can just go on and on. And since I can't understand a thing he writes, it must be deep!" For truths that keep you up at night, advice you'll have a hard time following, or impoverished resident internships: project your needs psychically...and if you're so destined, he'll surely hear you.
©2001* Talking Leaves
Spring/Summer 2001
Volume 11, Number 1
Tools for Sustainability/Eco-Humor
The chickaree, or Douglas Squirrel, is a year-round resident in the Pacific Northwest. Smaller than most squirrels, it has huge beady eyes, gray fur, a reddish-gray belly, and a short stubby tail. It is typically found in evergreen forests, often simultaneously shucking Douglas-fir cones into its fur-lined cheeks and into big piles on the ground below. And, of course, watching and waiting for poor, unsuspecting naturalists or outdoorsy-type folks to wander past just so that it can emit its terrible cry and take its revenge on humans for all that we've done to its home. The chickaree. Just writing about it causes my muscles to tense and my face to grimace. I can hear the sound playing in my head, over and over like a broken record, as one barks from its post, stubby little tail punctuating each shrill emission. If animals really are helpless against humans, then this creature is truly the great equalizer, for there is no way to stop it. Much like the dreaded Energizer Bunny, it keeps shrieking and shrieking and shrieking. The only recourse is to run away, and even then one has to run rather far before the sound is out of earshot.
What was the Creator thinking when inventing this pint-sized pipsqueak? It's like the younger sibling that never leaves you alone, or the screen door that just won't stop flapping on a windy day. They're not like other squirrels. They don't just make a loud chitter and a few barks like the gray, red, or kaibab squirrels. Unlike those species, which have Attention Deficit Disorder in comparison to these squirrels and will shortly forget about you once you leave, the chickaree just doesn't quit. You would think that they would have better things to do, that they would run out of air or come down with the squirrel equivalent of laryngitis, but no! It's like their sole purpose is to endlessly nag you. Eating? Forget it--taking 20 minutes to scold you is much more worthwhile and productive.
I have dealt with this scenario time after time during my life in the Pacific Northwest. Several years ago I was studying to be a naturalist, with an emphasis on indigenous survival skills and awareness. As part of my study, in addition to having taken numerous primitive skills workshops, I was enrolled in a year-long correspondence/mentorship program which incorporated all of these aspects. Ethnobotany, tracking, understanding bird language, and survival skills were taught, as were the art of stalking, camouflage, and moving through the woods unseen. Each week I would be out and about in the woods, observing, practicing, and studying. Things would be nice, peaceful, and serene, until all of a sudden, from out of nowhere came the dreaded holler: squawk, shriek, yelp, chirp (multiplied by 96, on a good day). Surely, I thought, there had to be some way to stop them!
This happened every time I went out into the woods, and every time it was all I could do to keep from picking up the nearest stick or rock and chucking it towards this foul-tempered beast, fantasizing about a direct hit and shutting one up once and for all. To me, other creatures of the forest were reasonable; they'd sound their alarm for a short amount of time, and soon go back to their business after I passed. Not the chickaree. At this point, I was determined to master the art of invisibility in the woods if only to never have to hear that high, piercing sound again. Forget being able to sneak up on other people, forget being able to eventually come up upon a more elusive creature like a bobcat, forget being like one of the ancient scouts; the thought of never having to hear that sound again was motivation enough for me.
I practiced and practiced and practiced. Getting past the birds was comparatively easy. If I made a mistake practicing, my ears wouldn't suffer for very long, so I could spend more time working with them. Gradually, I learned what made them nervous and anxious. I learned how to move, how to hold my body, and how to balance my mind so as not to cause them to stir, or eventually even notice that I was there at all. During this period, I also became more acquainted with the chickaree; I learned where they liked to hang out, what caught their attention, what threatened them. Unlike birds of the thicket, which have a relatively small territory and serve as the primary alarm system for ground-dwelling animals, the chickarees spend more time in the trees and keep watch over a larger area. Even if one is at somewhat of a distance they'll give off the alarm, so one must be observant of a greater area than is necessary for most birds. As I became more familiar with the habits of the birds, I carried my skills over to the chickaree, and gradually became more and more successful, eventually mastering the skills necessary to prevent further suffering and torture by the vocal chords of this furry behemoth.
The year came and went, and I completed the course. I met with my mentor, who read through all of the notes and journal entries I had written over the past year. He commented here and there, noting things that stood out to him in my accomplishments. When he was finished reading, he made a remark about my "medicine teacher." I knew that a medicine teacher was one who passed on a special and powerful gift to a student, but I asked him to clarify exactly what he meant. As you probably guessed, he was referring to my old buddy, the chickaree.
I was stuck! Here I despised this creature, cringed at even the thought of one, and now I had to acknowledge how valuable and important it was to my growth? I told him how much this animal had driven me crazy, how I had wished that even for a second I could get my hands on one and scream "vengeance is mine" right into its face over and over again until it was deaf, and now I was supposed to honor it! Never! "Well," he said, "Look at how much it taught you. This squirrel initiated you into the woods and the world of the scout. It taught you how to move invisibly, unnoticed. It helped you learn to balance your mind under unpleasant circumstances. It encouraged you to persist in your practice, and to respect the homes and territories of all forms of life. Without it, you may never have learned these skills." It was true, of course. I had no retaliation, no choice but to recognize how a seemingly adversarial being had ultimately contributed to my growth and development in a special and unique way. I was humbled. Ultimately, I couldn't fault this being, because it really had given me a precious gift. In a very roundabout way, it had served as my "hidden mentor."
Today, years later, I still admit that even the thought of the chickaree isn't exactly a soothing one. When I go into the woods with friends, I am reminded of the consequences when people move too loudly or too quickly, previously unaware of this hidden menace lurking in the trees, biding its time, watching, waiting. Yet, now I also must laugh, recognizing the abundance of irony found in nature and how the earth teaches and shares her secrets in mysterious ways for those with the patience to listen. Who ever said that the Great Spirit doesn't have a good sense of humor?
David Franklin is a professional Life Coach, writer, and teacher who works with people interested in personal growth and development, spirituality, and living their vision. He is currently working on a book about Environmental Psychology. For more information, visit http://www.NautilusLifeCoaching.com , or call David at (360) 867-1933.
©2001* Talking Leaves
Spring/Summer 2001
Volume 11, Number 1
Tools for Sustainability/Eco-Humor
Everything proceeded with rhythmic efficiency until--of course--the last item: a balky can of tuna fish that just wouldn't scan. The cashier passed it over the scanner repeatedly, twisting and turning it at various angles, the bright red scanning lines flashing across the bar code. Still no price came up. The cashier held the can up to read the number beneath the code. She was about to enter the number into her register when the white-haired gentleman reached over, grabbed her wrist, and lifted her hand from the keys.
"Put the tuna in the bag." he said softly.
"But I need a price." she explained.
"Young lady," he said sternly, "that can of tuna has been scanned and rescanned and scanned again. You have scanned it three times."
"But a price didn't come up."
"A price certainly did come up. The price is zero. The tuna is free."
"But it didn't beep," she explained.
"Then it stands to reason that free items even when scanned and rescanned and scanned again simply do not beep."
It was then that I recognized him. James Baker. I was as surprised as you are that James Baker was in the White Plains Food Emporium buying tuna fish that night, but strange things had been happening recently.
The cashier was unmoved by his argument and, not realizing with whom she was speaking, she tried to reason with Mr. Baker. "But sir, just because it didn't scan doesn't mean it has no price. If you let me key in the SKU number by hand..."
"By hand?" he interrupted, in a voice laced with disdain and incredulity.
"By hand? As opposed to a machine scan? Are you mad? Suppose you make a mistake? Suppose you read a 7 for a 9? Or arbitrarily transpose a digit? Why, you could end up charging me for a side of beef or fifty pounds of lobster." He leaned forward, close to her, his face nearly touching hers.
"No my dear," he hissed slowly and deliberately, "the tuna has no price. It had no price the first time you scanned it, the second time, and the third time. This can of tuna fish is free." His words were smooth and simple and sharp and polished. Like a stiletto.
An impasse. He was holding her wrist, her fingers mere inches above the register keys. Other shoppers, waiting impatiently behind me, began to grumble about the delay. There was some shoving. I stood there wondering how I always managed to pick the slowest checkout line. Suddenly everything fell silent. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned. It was Justice Clarence Thomas. Justice Thomas said nothing. He simply pushed me aside to allow Justice Rehnquist to pass. Tall, pale, gray, and regal, Justice Rehnquist strode majestically up to the cashier who was no longer unmoved. She was trembling.
"The tuna fish has no price," Justice Rehnquist intoned.
"But it must have a price," the cashier meekly insisted.
"Very well," he replied in a low monotone. "We know the price. The price is zero."
"But that can not be," she protested.
Justice Rehnquist raised one finger to his lips and said softly, "My dear, we do not need to know the price."
"But why not?" she whispered.
Justice Rehnquist looked at her for a moment then said, "Because we said so."
And with that Justice Scalia reached out from beneath Justice Rehnquist's robes and snatched the can of tuna fish from the cashier. A thin smile spread across his dark, unshaven face. His eyes narrowed. He held the can of tuna fish in his fist. "Because we said so," he echoed, and he dropped the can into the plastic bag. And then in a swirl of black robes, blue suits and silk ties they all disappeared into dark limousines and drove off into the night.
I looked at the cashier and pushed my quart of milk forward. "This register is closed," she said and walked away.
Steve Hamburg is an information system sales and marketing executive. He, his wife, and two children live and buy groceries in White Plains, New York.
©2001* Talking Leaves
Spring/Summer 2001
Volume 11, Number 1
Tools for Sustainability/Eco-Humor
Propelled by the motto "Let Tree Have Standing," the victory was achieved by a revaluing of votes to reflect what Vice Presidential Candidate Snack "Food" Chain called "the true will of the planet." With cooperation from certain sympathetic police officers, pollworkers, political operatives, state officials, legislators, and even judges, including the majority of the nation's highest court, Tree's party managed to have many "black" and "brown" votes (those coming from polluting industries) disqualified, and prevented many other "voters of color" (tainted by association with human activity) from casting their votes at all. Certain "Yew"ish voters were tricked by some butterflies into voting for a minor third-party candidate, one who actually favors cutting all Pacific Yews. (Tree first earned the enmity of Yews when, in his bid for the governorship of Ecotopia, he used family connections to remove many Pacific Yews from the Ecotopian voter rolls, thereby assuring his own victory over a prominent elder Yew. Most Yews have never forgiven him.)
In a remarkable series of maneuvers, Tree and his supporters used all branches of government, and "every trick in the book," to secure the hotly-contested election. "The will of the planet will not be defeated," Jeremy declared. Heavily financed by the "Green People," Tree's campaign promised to reward these "greenbackers" generously if Tree were placed in power. Ultimately, exploiting family and political connections that date back decades, and bolstered by the support of greenbackers heavily invested in his victory, Tree was able to have himself declared winner even though all sober assessments indicated that the electorate (in the traditional understanding of that term) had favored his opponent. "Some votes count more than others, as well they should," Squirrel, a spokesperson for the Deep Ecology Party, explained. "The Green People know what's right for America. Are we to be shackled to outdated definitions of democracy?"
The Deep Ecologists found a sympathetic ear in the United States Supreme Court, which blocked a count of the vote in a heavily "colored" region in order to hand Tree the Presidency. "This coup was achieved by using, and throwing out, ballots, not bullets," Squirrel reflected. "We employed economic, political, and ecological power, not military might. Today is a day to be proud about America."
"Deep Ecology has always been about connections," campaign manager Buzz "Bald" Eagle reflected. "Relying on numbers, and common people, alone, we could never have achieved this victory. But remember what Margaret Mead said? 'Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.' And we're indebted to John Muir for this insight--'When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe'--and also to Chief Seattle: 'All things are connected like the blood that unites one family.' By pulling on the strands of an intricately woven political web, we were able to change reality and come out on top, even though we were in the minority of the 'human' voters." Indeed, analysis by independent media observers confirmed that Tree had lost both the popular vote and--except for intervention by his friends--the electoral vote which ultimately determines the winner.
"I can't emphasize enough the importance of family," Eagle continued. "Tree would never be where he is today without his parents, who have literally nurtured him and raised him in their protection from day one. They have buffeted him from winds that would normally have toppled a tree as weak on top as he, and given him opportunities he never would have had unless he'd been in their grove. In this campaign he was able to use the combined influence of not only his immediate family but also his parents' friends, his own friends, and other family friends, especially his brother's friends. That last web of connection was very significant, let me tell you, since his brother is very cozy with some of the people responsible for determining how the votes were counted in the 'colored' regions.
"And finally, of course, most of the Supreme Court justices who voted for him, and effectively overruled established human law to let 'green power' prevail, also had very good 'family' reasons for doing so. Two sons of one justice were lawyers for Tree; another's wife worked for an organization planning Tree's transition to the Presidency; a third wanted to retire early to be with her husband but couldn't stomach having Tree's opponent choose her successor. It's all about connection, as we've been saying all along. In the end, natural law trumps human law. Democracy--using the 'voice of the people' as some kind of guide to government--is an idea whose time has come and gone. Let Tree have standing."
Throughout the fiercely-fought campaign and its legal aftermath, one thing became clear: Tree has friends in high places. The national media, most of it funded by the same greenbackers who put Tree in the Oval Office, has been quick to learn its ecological lessons and recognize the source of its sustenance. "Green speaks!," another Tree campaign motto, is now clearly enshrined, for all to see, as a fundamental principle of American politics.
A contributor to numerous periodicals, books, radio/television programs, and web-based news forums, Fred U. Lance has covered American politics for decades.
©2001* Talking Leaves
Spring/Summer 2001
Volume 11, Number 1
Tools for Sustainability/Eco-Humor