Author: Philo

human

Nothing But the Spring

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

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

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

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.

Simplify Your Life; Complicate Your Philosophy

Wendell Berry is one of those writers that have a talent for pointing out the obvious when the obvious seems so well-hidden. In his essay “Faustian Economics” he writes, “All are entitle to pursue without limit whatever they conceive as desirable-a license that classifies the most exalted Christian capitalist with the lowliest pornographer.” (pg. 43, What Matters?) This “doctrine” as he calls it is a necessary implication of the idea of a limitless economy.

The “family farm”, the concept that Berry is defending and the goal that I am trying to achieve seems like a simple and straightforward goal…but it is not. The implications of living in such a way as to be independent are many. First, I had to understand what it is that I am trying to be independent from. Secondly, I had to address and accept the limitations of the family farm (cottage farm, hobby farm…pick your term). And lastly, I had to address the cost of giving up on the Faustian idea of economics.

There are quite a few people with similar ideas of living and many of those people have to come to terms with these ideas, including: what is wrong with accepting modern society. Berry puts it forthright! “…Shifting the cost of depletion and pollution from the producer to the general public, the future, and other species…” (Forward, What Matters?) I’m not sure that there are those that can live honestly with these consequences, but I am finding out that I am not one of them.

Like any idea, the idea of a family farm ironically begins larger than life. The would-be farmer envisions endless, healthy fields and forests with a clean running, self-fed stream with no dependence upon modern conveniences. This thought is cut short when one remembers a necessity for most of us: toilet paper. This simple idea reminds us of the difficulties that are involved in going “off grid”, or even trying to live responsibly. Money is a necessary evil on this planet, given that we desire a quality of life that can be measured by any modern means. However, it is important to remember that money is not really the root of all evil, but simply the vehicle in which we travel to find it.

So what are our options with such dreams as independent living and eating responsibly? Berry again drives home what ought to be obvious to any thinking man. The agrarian economic policies would be in order of priority: 1) Nature, 2) Economies of land use, 3) Manufacturing, and 4) Consumer economies (pg. 3, What Matters?). I’ve never thought of my dream with regard to such priorities, but seeing them in writing drives home the ultimate goal: I want to reorganize my priorities.

I would recommend to anyone considering revitalizing their commitment to true, independent living to also re-visit the priorities by which they live by. I think that they will find that to simplify their life, they must first complicate their philosophy.

Garden Tips You Don’t Want to Hear

#1 Raise Your Expectation to Fail

This is a tough lesson to learn and does not get easier with time. However, as Joel Salatin of Polyface Farms is quoted as saying: “If something is worth doing, it is worth failing.” Failing is a key element in learning, and learn we will if we only remember those things we failed at.

#2 But…Lower All Other Expectations

I expected my garden to double the output this year. It is the second year, and I have bees. I expected my bees to give honey this year; although it is the first season they’ve had in their new home, they are doing so well. I expected my soil to come into its own; it is the second year that I’ve added compost, grass clippings and manure. I expected so much.

#3 Don’t Give In

I watched late in the summer as my tomato plants started developing yellowing leaves on the bottom, and continued to watch as the yellowing leaves made their way towards my beautifully big green tomatoes. I watched as my onions fell over but retained their green stalks and the bulbs quit growing. I watched as my leek went to stalk, and the yellow cherry tomatoes I planted reached and reached for the light that was not available. I watched as my peppers seemed to not grow and was reminded how fragile life is, but how persistent the human spirit can be.

#4 And Remember that Nature Rules.

No matter what we do; no matter how much we care, nurture, pick, pluck, plant and ply: nature rules. It is not we that are the masters of our lives, nor is it a god. Nature it has been said is the most effective serial killer there is. If that is not enough, nature has only rules that it itself creates. As we go about our “important” business of living we forget that we ourselves are part of nature and not the other way around. Our gardens remind us of that when hale pounds our plants pitifully in the middle of summer, and we watch in horror as unknown diseases and plights overtake once healthy dreams. But remember that nature does not dream and you do!

#5 Do Your Best

Do your best, but remember that doing your best guarantees nothing (see #1-4 above). Do your best because doing your best is the meaning that we create in our lives. While it is true that we are what we eat, it is also true that we are what we think. If you do not do your best you have already wasted your time and nature will not lie to you about it.

#6 But Remember Your Best Is Never Good Enough.

I know that this seems harsh but there are plenty of people that will attest to this for you. I know that in school those nice “teachers” tended to remind you that everything will be OK, but they were lying. You received grades that you did not earn. I know that your friends will compliment you on such a fine job you’re doing, but they are just being nice and you know when that’s the case. Your best is never good enough because when it is you cease to learn and you will be reminded harshly of #4. On the other hand if you ever find that you believe these people it is probably because of #3.

#7 Remember: What Else Do You Have to Do?

The human lifespan is short. There is not enough time to waste on excuses although we all waste ample hours in doing so anyway. Your job is only an excuse. It may be that it pays for your garden. Or perhaps gardening is your job in which case #1-6. Either way you must eat and why not know what you are eating? Your children are only an excuse. They need you to live your life and not theirs. Give them something to look up to: teach them the importance of self-sustainability and food. Life is what we make of it. Ask yourself what you want to make of yours and perhaps more importantly why. Go out and tend your garden there really isn’t anything more important to do.

Being Human

The school semester is about to start again and it reminds me of something that is very important: learning. Actual learning seems to be a rarity in our society, filled with instant gratification through things such as computers and food. And what do computers and food have to do with learning? They are perfect examples of how much we do not know.

First, while it may seem obvious how computers relate to learning, as with many things we do not often discuss the topic in full. The internet is a seemingly infinite source of facts, figures, and what is commonly called knowledge. And while the internet is an amazing invention that has no doubt furthered many aspects of learning, it is not a place of learning. The internet has made available information which was before either not available or extremely difficult to find. Access to information is not learning about the information. It is simply access.

Computers are not only a vehicle for the internet, however. Computers allow us to live the way we do in ways most of us do not think about. Without computers most of our infrastructures in our societies would fail; people would not get paid; lights would go out. Computers help in countless ways, but the cost of that help is high. Reliance upon computers has created dependence rather than independence. Knowing that infrastructures exist, and that we rely upon them is not knowledge: the facade of knowledge is not knowledge. It is simply rhetoric.

We do not know how the infrastructure that we rely upon works, and in fact, we often do not know when it does not work. Our food supply is a perfect example. The grocery store provides food in the same way that computers provide access. We can simply walk into the great building and there are rows and rows of “food”. Most of the edible products in a grocery store are not food in the real sense of the word. They are a combination of HFCS, salt and fat. These ingredients are often processed through means of chemical and mechanical manipulation. Furthermore, these products are not created to feed, but rather to make a profit. The cost of profit over food is unhealthy eating habits, addiction, and a lowering of all of our qualities of life. Having access to products to eat is not necessarily having access to food.

Many of the products available to “consumers” (the word to describe those who buy and use) are ready-made, pre-packaged, and designed to be quick and easy. Michael Pollan wrote that it is not thought that differentiates human beings from other animals, but cooking. These ready-made, pre-packaged units (the word used to describe what a vender is selling) take the necessity (and knowledge) of cooking away, and hence a bit of our humanity away. Adding water or turning on a stove is not necessarily cooking; it is preparing.

And so what do computers and food have to do with learning? Learning is a process that takes time; there are no shortcuts. There are no shortcuts because the process has to do with understanding, and to understand one must study the long and short-term implications. Computers create easy processes that do not rely upon long and short-term implications. This is not to say that computers are not useful tools for learning. But it is to say that the process of learning does not change even though a computer is being used.

The same goes for food. A credit card can buy a shopping cart full of products, but these products are not necessarily food in the real sense of the word. Furthermore, grocery stores and corporations that sell and provide products for consumption are not always interested in the consumer knowing the difference. Learning the difference, however, is a key component of knowledge: the byproduct of learning. Finally, and perhaps the most insidious implication of our ignorance, or perhaps indifference, towards learning is that we lose our independence without ever realizing it. Cooking is the key foundation to independence, for without it we are truly no different than our not-so-distant cousins in the forests and jungles. Simply being a human being is not being human. It is what we learn that makes us people.

Patience

I am told quite often to have patience, but I watch my tomato plants and they seem to grow inches everyday, but the fruit remains green. Large, green globs of fruit hang heavy on the vines. I can taste the fruit of my labors; I envision the salsa if only my peppers would hurry.

My peppers are bearing fruit as well, but the plants themselves haven’t grown much. They look healthy now, but only after some attention. I watch as peppers sprout from white flowers, healthy green, red and purplish. I watch the peppers and envision baskets of Anaheim, Joe’s Cayenne, Poblano, Jalepeno…, if only my tomatillos would get bigger.

The tomatillo plant was given to me by a friend of mine; the plant is beautiful. Small, yellow flowers wielding to pockets of green, sticky fruit. Spreading its spindly branches, I tie the plant religiously to the homemade stands I’ve built. Dozens of green bags hang precariously from the plant, and I check often for the fruit hidden inside. The green chili that I make from the peppers and tomatillos always taste good with a homemade beer, if only my hops would hurry.

The cascade hop plant is probably my favorite plant in the garden. It hangs heavy with sticky leaves and gorgeous, small green cones of goodness. The lupulin inside the cones await golden nectar. The plant is a fast grower, and the hops that spring forth (with a little help from the bees this year) are lovely light green and smell of the goodness that beer is. I plan to brew a honey porter, if only the bees would hurry with their making of honey.

I added a honey super to the hive two weeks ago. The last check on the super, the little girls had begun to make comb for the honey that I hope will soon be. The bees have been a favorite addition to my garden. They have done so well this year. I really didn’t get the bees for honey production, but out of curiosity. But I remember the addition of the second hive box. They filled it hurriedly and I worry about the bit slower production on the honey super. I have mason jars that I can almost taste the honey dripping from the spoonful’s that I ladle from them. Honey harvest is often in September, and only if the girls have enough for themselves. August is almost here.

August is almost here and with the end of summer begins the fall. I remember the times past in the fall as the leaves change and cool evenings bring the leaves to the ground. I’ll gather them and send them through the shredder for mulch over the winter. I always like that job because it is somehow calming, but it does make me wonder where the time has gone.

Simple Lessons

Sometimes I get angry and lash out, mostly at inanimate objects. Or, I complain, mostly to my wife. But four and ½ years ago I found a dog at the pound, and that changed a lot of things. I still get angry and lash out, mostly at inanimate objects and I still complain, mostly to my wife, but now when I am angry or frustrated my dog, Maggie, comes up to me, tail tucked and nuzzles me gently. Now I have to calm my anger and curb my complaining. It is difficult at times, but it forces me to reconsider.

I have to calm my anger and curb my complaining because Maggie does not understand why I am angry, frustrated, or generally grouchy. She simply knows that I am. She comes up slowly with her head bowed low and her tail tucked and she creeps up to me, nuzzles my arm and begs for petting. Without knowing it she reminds me that I have a great life and that most likely my anger and frustration while perhaps warranted is simply not worth it.

This is a hard lesson and I am a difficult student, but Maggie is a relentlessly patient teacher. I get mad and the tail tucks. I get frustrated and I feel a wet nose against my arm. This relentless reminder is irritating at times, but I cannot afford to let that show lest the cost of doing so is paid. That is, I must look into the dark brown eyes of my teacher, my pet, my companion and without being able to explain that it is not her that I am mad at, reconcile her worries the best I can.

I am reminded by my wife that I could give her the same respect and consideration, but I remind her that she understands my anger and frustration while Maggie does not. I know, and at times am reminded by Maggie, that this argument is not a good one, but like I said: I am a difficult student. I wonder why I do not react to people, my wife, the same way that I react to Maggie, but then the answer comes: people do not react the same way to others as dogs react to people.

There is a lot of honesty in a dog: it cannot lie. It does not have ulterior motives nor does it revel in its own ignorance proudly. I calm my anger and curb my frustration because I do not want my dog to be unhappy, and she shows me love and affection because she does not want me to be unhappy.

Such a simple lesson to be learned from a dog from the pound.

Nature Knows Best

I woke up this morning and enjoyed my morning coffee as I do every morning. It was early and the dew was still on the plants. The bees were not very busy yet; it was silent which is why I like early mornings. I took my usual garden walk, coffee in hand, and I noticed a few of my tomato plants had yellowing leaves on the bottom. All at once my morning was no longer peaceful. I wondered about that.

My garden is not doing so well this year (I think), and that worries me as well. I’m not sure why? Is it because I want to be perceived as a good gardener or is it because I want to be a good gardener? Maybe it’s the soil, the plants? My father-in-law chuckled at my worries. He’s been a farmer for some sixty years. His only advice: “it happens sometimes.”

That was not good enough for me. I knew better; better than a man who had spent his life growing things! That’s the thing with nature: it does not care what we want or why we want it. It simply is. I understand this even when I take my morning walk with my coffee: it only seems to me as if nature is pleasing. But nature knows best.

I don’t understand how my father-in-law is so nonchalant about something he has spent a lifetime doing. I tell him this and he brings back a conversation about nature that we had many years ago concerning the nature of, well, nature. He reminds me that nature does what nature does best: exist; this coming from a farmer of sixty years. After that, he adds, it’s pretty much guesswork and we don’t have much say so in the matter.

I don’t know why, but I can’t accept that explanation. It is not because it is not an answer, but because there are reasons for everything, even if we do not know what those reasons are. Also, I must admit, I expect a little more from a lifetime of experience in farming, which is what this man has. He seems to recognize my disappointment and chuckles again. I think he realizes that it is because of his experience and not in spite of it that he can laugh.

The Armchair Philosopher

Writings and Music

Author: Philo

Nothing But the Spring

Focus

Twist

Simplify Your Life; Complicate Your Philosophy

Patience