craving grace

Totally immersed in a wild plantation, surrounded by like-minded humans and animals, where my greatest amusement comes from listening to a chorus of frogs drown out the murmur of guests on a dark night, I'm so removed from my other reality. It's easy to ignore the news. Too easy, in fact, I have no idea what's going on in the world right now. The people I meet are at least willing to listen and accept our way of life for a few days. Then what? I spend so many nights imagining the rest of my life-- the causes I will be dedicated to, the people I could help, the policies I will fight. And the more I think, the more I see a huge wall building itself in front of my dreams.

All the people in the West who don't want to hear my logic, who don't care about people they haven't met, who still--and will always-- think of the earth as their private property (and will sue anyone who says otherwise), they terrify me. In this pseudo-utopia, I can barely hear their flimsy rhetoric anymore, but I fear it. I don't want to be trampled, abused and ultimately a failure in my cause. Even some of the adventurous travelers I meet here are skeptical about something as simple as organic food. How deep into our psyches have the corporations penetrated? "That's all nice, but how will organic agriculture feed the world's population?" they ask. How can it not? Do we have a choice? How long can the world's population deign to be fed by the industrial food chain-- based firmly in a dwindling and pathetically unreliable resource (petroleum)?

Family and friends-- please do me a favor. Save some of the world's biodiversity in your backyards. Start a garden. Grow heirloom varieties and plant crops people tell you don't grow here. Get to know your soil. Get your hands dirty. Watch the stars instead of television. Buy food from local farmers who grow their produce organically. Be aware of where your dollars go.

Sometimes the state of the world feels so urgent-- so desperate! But people wiser than me have written wise words for stressed out individuals like myself. Here are a few of them:

"Little by little, our cultivated plant species and varieties are disappearing from our orchards, kitchen gardens and fields, to be replaced by a few productive varieties which are often insipid. Will such extinction be as severe as that of the wild species? Maybe not-- there will always be some relentless individuals who hold on zealously to their grandfathers' apple trees and grandmothers' onions. In the human world, eradication is seldom complete if we remain watchful. For what is rare is dear and becomes sought after...Just as with war, so it is with plants-- in case of an invasion there are always pockets of survival. When the barbarians demolished the Roman Empire, Christianity survived in the Irish, Scottish and Byzantine monasteries, and when peace returned, these islets blossomed and spread throughout Europe...

We have chosen to break our alliance with the majority of the cultivated plant species, but this rupture has not been all-encompassing; many gardeners and farmers have kept the faith and in the depths of their conscience have remained united with the earth... The abandonment of our cultivated plants is only temporary; it is a step in our development where we sought to banish Nature to test ourselves, later to experience the joy of seeing her gallop towards us again."

~Claude Bourguignon "Regenerating the Soil"

"The closest my heart has come to breaking lately was on the day my little girl arrived home from school and ran to me, her face tense with expectation, asking, 'Are they still having that war in Afghanistan?'

As if the world were such a place that in one afternoon, while kindergarteners were working hard to master the letter L, it would decide to lay down its arms. I tried to keep the tears out of my eyes. I told her I was sorry, yes, they were still having a war.

She said, 'If people are just going to keep doing that, I wish I'd never been born.'

I sat on the floor and held her tightly to keep my own spirit from draining through the soles of my feet. I don't know what other mothers say at such moments; I suppose some promise that only the bad men are getting hurt. I wish I could believe in that story myself. But my children have never been people I could lie to. My best revenge against all the dishonesty and hatred in the world, it seems to me, will be to raise right up through the middle of it these honest and loving children."

~Barbara Kingsolver "Small Wonder"

education

Reading about soil feels like reading a religious text.



The knowledge is invisible and sacred. It's a world of shadows that we rarely see, but that nurtures us all and can be used for good or evil. Agriculture is a kind of alchemy. It is taking stones and death and creating gold: new life. The stones contain minerals; inert matter that is brought to life by an unseen conversion by microbes and microfauna into sustenance. The channels of new life are invisible to us, in the world of light: the roots, in the universe of the soil... a kind of spirit-world. Chemists can study the parts and the pieces, but only a grower of plants can know the true potential of the life beneath their feet. The names of bacteria that fix nitrogen into the soil from the atmosphere, one of the most important processes for life on earth, have names like gods: Nitrosomonas and Nitrobactor. And more than their mythical counterparts, these gods truly deserve worship.



That which we have reduced to chemistry is truly magical and deserves a deep, spiritual respect to all who grow and all who consume plants (that means you). The soil is more than a physical support for plant life. It holds the secret of the transformation of inert matter into all life on earth. The chemical fertilizers used in "conventional" agriculture pervert this ancient system and confuse the spirit of the soil, slowly killing it, and because we have lost our connection to the earth, we can't see how it is killing us too.



Those of you who know me well know how long I've struggled against religion and even fate. But there's something deep and sacred here, in what I'm learning and the things I'm seeing. One can't have a respect for plants if one has never really seen them grow. We have our gardens, our flowers, our lawns, but it's just a dressing for our material existence. Until we live in the garden we can't truly understand the power that exists in plants. And the power we consume when we eat them. If the energy that goes into their production is unnatural, so is the energy we take into ourselves. If the energy that grows your food is natural and well-intentioned, we take that into our bodies when we eat each meal. And the knowledge of that energy sustains our mind, body and soul.



Why have we detached ourselves from the soil? When did we let ourselves drift away from our (literal) roots? Was it when von Liebig burned a living plant and reduced it into elements? Was it when war-science artificially obtained nitrogen to make a bomb, and then to fertilize our food? Was it when crusaders murdered the spiritual connection ancient civilizations had with nature and artificially melded Pagan gods with Christian demons?



Living in a country where the culture is not so far gone as ours gives me hope for my own. But how long before this culture is corrupted? I see religious harvest festivals conducted for genetically engineered crops. I see the cradle of compost using toxic white powder to produce food that has never needed it before-- why now? Only 2% of America's population are still directly employed in agriculture, but the majority of Indians are still farmers. How can we restore the reverence our ancestors had for the earth? Why do we assume they were ignorant, just because they were not well-versed in organic chemistry. Perhaps they knew more than we know now.



Think of your mother: the most complex relationship in our lives. The earth is humanity's mother. She created us, and she has nurtured us. But we are abusing her. Like our mothers she continues to nurture us whether we want it or not, but as our abuse continues she has aged too quickly and grown bitter and tired. Could you ever reduce your mother to three elements? Would you ever presume that she needs just three nutrients to live? Why would we assume that of the earth?



I know this all sounds over the top. The processes on earth really are just chemistry and physics. But reach past your staunch logic and find some magic in your heart. How is chemistry anything but unwinding a spiritual mystery? How is carbon any less than a piece of the infinite and mysterious universe? It is both arrogant and degrading to think that once we understand something, it is no longer a part of the larger cosmic conundrum and therefore we may use it however we please-- to the detriment of all the rest we still don't understand.



All I know is that Nature has been around a lot longer than we have, and her processes are not random. If we had kept listening to her, instead of pulling away, we wouldn't be in this mess. And I don't think anyone can deny that we are in one hell of a mess.

Mysore

My trip to Mysore last weekend was intended to be a relaxing getaway from what has become a hectic work schedule. It succeeded in making me grateful for what I have at Rainforest Retreat, if inadvertently. I saw many interesting and beautiful sites, but in the end, the city just isn't my place. I much prefer the quiet and most importantly the friendly atmosphere of Mojo Plantation. I can now appreciate the description of Madikeri as a "sleepy" town. The first thing I did in Mysore was get picked up by an autorickshaw driver who took me to all the "nice places" he knew I would just LOVE in Mysore. I actually ended up in some pretty cool places... like this incense/oil shop where I rolled a stick of incense and was sold over-priced oils by the man in white shown here. They were all very excited about Thanksgiving, and I learned the virtues of Vodafone's cheap SMS services as the dealer sent his American friend a Thanksgiving message! After visiting the oil shop the driver took me to "the best silk shop in Mysore," where I ended up having an interesting conversation with the guys that worked there about the "point system" that lets auto-drivers rack up points for bringing unsuspecting tourists (like myself) to their shops. It's totally informal, but becomes a very effective marketing relationship. We also talked about good sales techniques for people who may find themselves in the shop without really wanting to be there (again... like me). I almost bought a super expensive pashmina scarf just for the interesting conversation, but thought better of it. After visiting these two places, I ditched my auto-driver and headed back to my hotel for a moment of recooperation and cocktail hour. Once I'd perked up again, I went to the Devtaj Market, where I met Azam (pictured), another oil and incense salesman. He told me I had overpaid for the oils I bought, but it was too late, so I didn't get anymore. He ordered us chai and we drank it behind his counter and chatted about his other foreign "friends" and he showed me his treasured notebook full of tourists' praises and pictures. The next morning I headed to Srirangapattana, a temple town and site of a historical Sultan, Tippu. I'm not actually sure of the history behind it all (my tour guide at the mosque spoke questionnable English), but the architecture was certainly beautiful. I was back to Mysore by lunch, after a whirlwind tour of the town. That afternoon I finally made it to Mysore Palace (also known as the Maharaja's Palace). It was absolutely gorgeous inside, but unfortunately no cameras were permitted in. Outside was the usual zoo of tourists, including a very sad-looking elephant to ride. I declined, because it looked so damn sad. I'm back at the plantation now, and feeling good to be out of the city. We have a few weeks until the chaos of the holidays, with tons of guests, and I'm sure plenty of stress. But I'll take it as it comes.