Author: Philo

human

The List

list

Perhaps one of the most significant aspects of getting older is realizing that you are, actually, getting older and realizing the implications of age. This, I understand, is difficult to understand the younger one is. However, I think the lesson learned from this realization is important no matter what age we are. Consider…

One day you receive a letter in the mailbox addressed to you personally. The letter has no return address and is handwritten. You open the letter up anticipating the contents while at the same time nervous, excited, somehow knowing what the letter is. The envelope drops to the ground and you unfold the contents. It is a list. The list, you realize, is a list of your hopes and dreams, your goals and the expectations that you have developed over the course of your life. In short, it is your bucket list. You read the list a bit nervous, a bit excited, as you come across long forgotten dreams and current expectations that you realize you’ve never shared with anyone. You put the list in a drawer, bringing it out to entertain your friends on occasion: telling the story and reliving the moment at the mailbox. Years go by and the paper yellows but does not become brittle. One day you take the list out and realize to your horror that somehow the list is shorter. The thought, “I must be mistaken!” shoots through your mind. This cannot be; lists such as this do not become shorter. But, they do, and your realize this at the same time that you realize your hand is shaking. Instead of pulling out the list to entertain friends, you now hide the list in a box on a shelf in the closet. You cannot face looking at it anymore because you realize that throughout time you have not accomplished the goals, the dreams on the list. You realize that you are getting older, and the list is getting shorter. “How can this be?!” you think. “As I get older, I need to cross out the items on my list!” But you’ve crossed out only a few. The riddle weighs heavy and you reluctantly pull the box out with the list in it. You hesitantly open the box and carefully lay the list out on the table; you unfold the list slowly. You realize when you finally look down that items on the list are slowly fading, right before your eyes. You realize what the list is: it is a list of possible dreams, of possible goals, of possible expectations. It is a list of possibilities and as you grow older that list of possibilities fades.

Although it is difficult to understand and perhaps even more difficult to accept, the list of possibilities in life grows shorter as we grow older. I can only hope that we can realize what is possible and act upon those realizations. I have been told, and have come to believe, that the most difficult step is the first step. Take the first step towards your goals before the list is nothing but a blank and brittle memory.

That Which We Cannot Do

hope

Nature teaches us a lot if we choose to listen. However, sometimes the lessons we learn from nature remind us that life is difficult, that nature truly does not, it cannot, care. The difficulty in learning this lesson is that as people we do care: we care about nature, we care about the things and people that we take responsibility for.

Two months ago, my bees were plentiful, filling three boxes. I noticed a problem (varroa mites) and treated them dutifully. I saw the results and the results looked good. I was hopeful and planned on having my bees overwinter to welcome them into the Spring. Nature had other plans, however. A few weeks ago I started noticing wasps coming and going, and noticed a drastic decrease in the number of bees that were swarming around the hive. Upon opening the hive I was horrified to find that most of the hive was empty. Rather than 30-40,000 bees I was met with 2-3000 bees!

I was and still am devastated. Questions run through my mind as I search for answers. The few remaining bees, including the queen, continue to hang on but there is not much hope for the winter. The twist in my gut continues even now, when I’m writing about this. I run through the possibilities and what I could have done differently, but the answers are the same.

I have read the books, the blogs, the forums and watched the videos. I have studied and went to classes; I have taken responsibility for my actions; I have dutifully fulfilled my obligations and still failure. I have been taught the lesson that nature teaches all things: 1) that life is difficult and that nature does not, and cannot care, 2) that there are often not answers to the questions that we ask; that there are not possible solutions to all possible scenarios. Perfection does not exist in nature not matter how much we as people care about nature and the things and people that we take responsibility for. Sometimes, there is no other way.

I am also reminded that no matter the twist that we feel in our gut, we must persevere; there is no quitting. It does not matter whether it was the wasps, varroa mites, colony collapse disorder, or my own doings, there must be a new hive next spring. Although we cannot know for sure why this must be, it must be. This is what makes us human: we must educate ourselves about the world around us, but we must also morally educate ourselves: we must educate ourselves about the world within us.

Life is a battle and even if there is no purpose for the dead and the dying, we must act as if there was. To accept the void as lifeless is to accept that there is no hope, but we are human; to accept that there is no hope is to give up the very thing that makes us human, and that, we cannot do.

Worry

worry

This time of year is worrisome for beekeepers. The cold is coming on, and we worry about food stores, hive health, and of course the cold. I have had a wasp problem these past few weeks that came after I got the mite problem under control. I was told when I began to consider beekeeping that mites and honey is the top two reasons people quit keeping bees. I can see why those issues are at the forefront.

The cold is hard on many of us, not just the bees. And it is not that cold where I live; at least not yet. I look out the window and the sun is shining. I step outside and it is below freezing. I think the bees simply react, but people, people think too much. I know that I do. I lost a lot of sleep worrying about the wasps, and then I think about the cold, the food. The worry continues. However, worry does not work; worry does not help. Worry hinders, is a vicious cycle, and is unfortunately inevitable.

On Wed the weather will warm up and I will check the hive for the last time before I close it up for winter (so I can worry about the food stores). I’ll make sure the wasps don’t have a nest in the hive (so I can wonder if I got all the wasps out if there is a nest). I put a mouse-proofer on the opening of the hive and add some insulation to the top (so I can worry about moisture this winter). I’ll wrap the hive in some black roofing paper (so I can worry less about heat).

I’ll do what I can for the bees that I’ve taken responsibility for, and this is where the worry comes from: I have taken responsibility for something. Any person who has taken, truly accepted, responsibility for something understands the worry that goes along with the responsibility. In the past few years, self-sufficiency has played an integral role in life and along with self-sufficiency comes self-responsibility.

I wonder about those people who did not have the choice of self-responsibility; they had responsibility thrust upon them by the nature of their lives. Such responsibility is a heavy burden, but perhaps (like the bees) such responsibility is not noticed because it is simply the reality of life: it is living.

In today’s society our worries have changed perhaps because our responsibilities have changed. We worry about our job, if the grocery store has what we need, if we have paid our bills and if we can continue to pay our bills, our children, our marriage. These worries are no less important, but they are different. Such responsibility is a heavy burden but after a while we do not seem to notice because it is simply the reality of our life: it is living.

I have learned, even in such a short time, from my bees that I must understand what I need to worry about. But in order to do so, I must understand what I am responsible for. Maybe that lone bee coming back to the hive on a cold day with a load of pollen is not worried because it is doing what it does, doing what it needs to do, doing what a bee does naturally. I think that perhaps what we worry about is not as important as why we worry about the things we do. Perhaps worry is not a waste of time, but a reminder that time is short, the cold is coming and we have (in fact) no time to worry.

Liberal, Commie, Bastard

politics2

It is state election time here and again I am reminded that the language we use often mirrors how we feel rather than what we think. One piece of mail that I received regarding a state candidate was simply emblazoned “LIBERAL”. I have to wonder about the purpose of such claims. When I do, I remember John Stuart Mill’s writings on “Classical Liberalism”. There are ten principles. Here they are in short:

  1. The life of each individual is an absolute and universal moral value.
  2. Every individual owns his body, his mind, and the labor thereof.
  3. Every individual has the right to pursue activities for the betterment of his life.
  4. The rights of an individual to life, liberty…are not granted by other human beings.
  5. The initiation of physical force, the threat of such force, or fraud against any individual is never permissible.
  6. The sole fundamental purpose of government is to protect the rights of individuals…government is not the same as society.
  7. Every individual has the absolute right to think and express any idea.
  8. Commerce, technology and science are desirable.
  9. Accidents of birth, geography, or ancestory do not define an individual and should not result in manmade restrictions of that individual’s rights or opportunities.
  10. It is a moral imperative for humans to expand their mastery of the universe indefinitely.

The above ideas were expressed by Mill in 1869. What I find interesting about these principles of classical liberalism is that most of these principles have been absconded by the present-day “conservatives” which brings me to my point about language: it changes. I would suggest that to use language is to express ideas not create ideals. It also reminds me that in order to own a word, I must have clear understanding of that word.

It is important to remember in these days of political posturing that it is not only the language that we use that is important, but the ideals that we abide by: we must own the word we speak. To call someone a “liberal” is neither good nor bad. However, the reasons that we have for calling a person or group anything are good or bad.

It is much easier to rely upon rhetoric rather than principle to express ourselves, especially when we are not certain of the ideals that we actually hold, nor why we hold them. It is much more difficult to understand what we say before saying it than it is to say something that we really don’t understand.

Politics may be rhetorical by nature, but they are meaningless without the ability of society to understand the underlying ideals that are expressed by politics. As Mill is also quoted as saying, if we don’t educate ourselves, we deserve what we get.

The Lowest Common Denominator

 lowest common

Often and unfortunately our conversations concerning what we do land upon the lowest perch of human achievement: that of measuring all accomplishments by their economic consequences. This is what I refer to as the lowest common denominator. I cannot accept that the ultimate consideration of our acts is monetarily important at all. When discussing new movements in farming for example, as we are seeing in this country (the US) today, I cannot imagine that the people involved in the agricultural movement are involved only for economic gains and monetary profits.

I do not consider the profit received from my garden, and from buying locally produced meats to be measured monetarily. Rather, the rewards that I get from knowing where my food comes from and how it was treated overrides any economic cost. I would argue that those of us who take pride in learning new skillsets and in understanding concepts that society tends to take for granted are not motivated by possible profits, but by personal gains in knowledge, in peace of mind, in the understanding that what we do can have a virtuous aspect that cannot be bought and sold.

I would suggest that the food-movement not consider itself by the judgment of others that can only understand or are only interested in monetary motivations. It is difficult not to do so, especially when being considered from a public point of view. The phrases “there is no money in it” with regard to small-farming enterprises is easily dismissed with closer inspections of the facts. The argument that small-farms are in fact more profitable than large, agri-businesses if the subsidies to such businesses are taken out of the equation are beside the point. More important to the point is that most small-farm enterprises are not motivated by money alone. The point is that in not relying upon agricultural subsidies, small farms are more autonomous, offer a more honest product, and are not held accountable by faceless stockholders but by local consumers that many know by name.

While it is true that to live in this society, money is a necessary component; it is not true that money is the most important component. This viewpoint has led us to the deplorable situations that we find ourselves in today both in and outside of agriculture. The small-farming movement that seems ubiquitous in the country today reminds both those who are brave enough to venture out and those who are thoughtful enough to support such operations that money is the least important of all aspects of our lives. It is by the standards of bravery, of thoughtful action, of honesty and honest work that we ought to judge ourselves and expect others to judge us by.

While we cannot often fight the filth of large agribusiness we can battle the ignorance that allows such business to flourish. However, I would argue that we cannot do so by judging ourselves and what we do by the lowest common denominator. There is so much more that we are motivated by other than money. It is important for us involved in this movement to remember this fact and remind others that money is not always worth the trouble.

The Limitation of Money

money

When faced with decisions that have ultimate implications for your happiness, it is necessary to consider that happiness from as many different perspectives as possible, not just the economic perspective. Otherwise we become defined by the narrow and limiting perspective of money, not the actual limitations that we have. Perhaps, we must consider, it is more useful to make less money. As un-American as this may seem, our happiness as individuals and as a nation seems to be at stake, but not for the reasons that we might believe.

The more dependent upon money we become, the more impoverished we become. I am realizing that the ability to fend for myself, to provide for myself, and to be motivated not by the usefulness of my ability to make money but by the usefulness of my abilities is providing the richness of life that I need, the perspective that I need to be happy. It is indeed true that money cannot buy happiness. In fact, often times it purchases discontent.

For example, my wife said something to me that has stuck. She grew up on an eight-generation farm in Europe. She remembers having no money, but always having enough to do and enough to eat. The fear of poverty is still with her, but through our discussions she has come to realize that the poverty that her family endured was not because of the farm, but because of the motivation to make money. To farm, to homestead is to give up on our dependency upon money. However, in giving up on our dependency upon money, we do not become impoverished, but enriched.

As backward as this may seem to many, it is true. I am learning to live without money is unrealistic but only because I am realizing the limitations of my abilities. Money does not provide independence, but only dependence upon those with the abilities that I lack. It is not living without money that is unrealistic; it is living without knowing your own limitations.

A homestead provides ample opportunity for experiencing limitations, limitations that money cannot conquer. In cities across this nation I do not believe that it is the lack of money that is problematic, but only the lacking realization that we are limited. We cannot “do” what we want to “do” if we do not know how to “do” it. We can “think” what we want to “think” if we do not know how to “think”. In fact, I believe that money as a sole motivator lessens the ability to realize our own limitations and in doing so gives us a false sense of security; I have certainly experienced that in my own life.

I have also experienced the frustration of my own ignorance and short-comings with regard to my own limitations. In rebuilding a 1939 Farmall F-20 I learned that it will not start simply because it is supposed to start. It is the same with money actually. Simply because money is supposed to be able to buy you happiness does not mean that it actually will.

Nothing But the Spring

future

The fall is coming and with the coming cold, change. The bees are readying the hive for winter; the garden is beginning to show signs of age. Harvest continues but the nights are getting a bit colder and the mornings are darker. Change is a cold reality as it is a reminder that all that we hold dear is temporary, and the seasons continue to march on, counted only by us.

I am reminded of the cycles of the seasons, of life in general. When I was young these cycles were nothing more than an old wife’s tale. But when I began to notice my own age, these cycles began to become recognizable from years before. The cycle of seasons became the cycles of life: Spring, Summer, Fall, and finally Winter.

It is almost as if all change is the same. It begins as an exciting possibility and grows into a busy reality becoming the aches and pains in the morning, the nematodes in the soil, the repairs on the house, the mileage on the equipment and on myself, the goals achieved and the dreams that never were. These things are not bad, but simply the reality of living. Things wear out, ideas disappear and so do we.

As I get older I begin to notice that my parents are old.   This realization is painful and soon I am reminded of the relentless seasons not only by my own age but also by the needs of my parents. The child becomes the parent. This too is the cycle of the seasons. Winter comes for us all and all the while I think of nothing but the spring.

Focus

focus

I’ve read a rather telling aphorism once: the greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged on how it treats its animals. I think Gandhi was quoted as saying it. Nevertheless, the aphorism both horrified me and struck me as very true. I wonder, as Wendell Berry and others like him have often done in the pages of their essays, if the greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged on how it treats its land? At the very least, I believe that how we treat animals and the land around us is a consequence of what we think of each other and ourselves.

Up to this point, this blog has considered perspectives that do not put human beings as a centered focal point but rather as a part of a greater reality, one which is grounded in objectivism. That being said, I would like to explore the homesteading theme, the environmental and creative themes that have been addressed from a perspective that does consider human beings as a center focal point. First, look outside of your window and consider what is important to human beings. Secondly, consider the cost of putting a value on that human importance.

Homesteading, small-scale farming (whatever it may be called) seems to be one of those human endeavors that shifts importance from the farmer to the farm: its environment and its animals. Of course, there are exceptions. However, those exceptions aside, I believe that this desire of some to be a part of an environment that is greater than themselves rather than to think themselves as greater than their environment comes from a deep-seated understanding that whatever our convictions the reality remains: we are not important.

Some view this as humanistic blasphemy. However, viewed from the point of view that we are part of a greater whole, the admission that we are not important leads us to ask: what is? I believe that those that have discovered the possibility of homesteading on a small-scale sustainable farm have realized what is important. Truth is important and sustainable practices in all their forms are a part of this truth. This is often presented within the framework of environmental arguments, but those arguments assume that the environment is somehow innately important. I would have to disagree: the environment is important because it reminds us that we are completely and absolutely dependent upon it for happiness not to mention our survival. The truth is, we are not important to the environment, but our environment is of utmost importance to us.

However, we do not seem to be interested in the truth of our situation: our total and utter dependence upon the environment for our happiness and survival. It seems that we put importance upon the façade of independence and the fascia of truth. The façade and fascia of independence and truth are much easier for us to achieve than is the achievement of true independence and the realization of Truth (capital T intended).

If we value comfort, then comfort will be prioritized over all else as will ease and wealth and whatever else we deem as valuable. I think that how we treat animals and the environment as a whole does mirror our false assumption that we are the focal point of the world we live in. Although the world cannot and does not care, we can and perhaps we need to start valuing our capacity to do just that.

Twist

twist 

The twist in my gut; that deep-seated pain; that long needle in my eye.

And as I lie about not knowing, feeling the hurt wind through the veins of my life,

There is no worry as to what the end will be.

There is no need to know that; it will come soon enough.

Doubt

That demon seed of our desires, with wryly fingers and wilting laughter,

It curls the vines of time around our gasping lungs, our mouths gaping open,

Our face contorted by the screw.

One day after another, this seems to never end, and in the end, we call it

Life.

The time of consciousness, the time of being aware of what is possible, and

What we are capable of.

Living consciousness and losing our grip as the coil tightens.

Going on, worsens, or is better; hard to see the difference in the end.

Twist

And writhe in the loop of life

No cycle of right, dead-end of wrong, just the twist of life

And that old forgotten lyric that we use to sing.

 

Time On Our Hands

working hands

I shook a man’s hand the other day. His hand was hard and rough and his handshake was firm and full of confidence. There was no uncertainty in the shake. He was a working man in the sense of the word that his work was not something that he did to make money or bide time. This man lived his work and was proud of what he did, and this showed in his handshake and the firm, rough feel of the palm of his hands. He had time on his hands, literally.

Most of us complain that we do not have enough time on our hands; that our lives are filled up with necessary places to be and things to do, and that is probably the case. But I noticed that in my discussion with this man complaints had no place. We talked of grass-based farming, permaculture and animal husbandry. He had been up since about 3am making deliveries and there was not a hint of tiredness in his voice. He had a necessary place to be and necessary things to do; he had animals to feed, fences to mend, and grass to mow, but he also had time on his hands to talk.

We ate sausage in the parking lot while we talked. The sausage was exceptional but he was not satisfied with the texture of the meat. It was obvious that he took time with the things that he did, and that time led to a warranted pride in his work. It rained and we talked. Time was not of the essence. There was not a sign of being busy although I knew he was.

I like to meet people with time on their hands. Time has a way of rubbing off, of reminding me what is important and what is not. “You don’t mind a little dirt on the knife?” he asked as a sliced another piece of sausage.

“I don’t mind a bit!” I answered.

I don’t mind dirt on knives and I don’t mind having time on my own hands. In fact, I am working hard to put more on them. It is hard work to have time on your hands, but I do believe that doing so is one of the most virtuous things a person can do. I would suggest that we all need to work in order to have more time on our hands. In fact, a bit more time on everyone’s hands would be a great thing for us all!

I shook the man’s hand when we said goodbye. His hand was hard and rough and his handshake was firm and full of confidence. We did not bide our time but talked about meeting again at his farm. This man reminded me to live my work and do it in such a way that I can be proud of what I do. I think that I can remember to have a firm handshake full of confidence as long as I do these things. Put some time on your hands today; you’ll be glad you did.