Praise

 

Lately there has been so much disturbing news, here and afar, that sometimes I find it  hard to know what to say about anything. Instead I'm trying to focus on happy memories and the small pleasures that are close at hand. Yesterday. I drove out to Living Soils Farm in Yellow Point and, as I drove along Quennell Road, I was cheered to see the masses of daisies and buttercups at the edges of the road and the peaceful views of birds on the lake. Further along I admired the cathedral-like canopy of cedars, maples and pine trees that form an arch over the road. Our planet is in bad shape for many reasons, but there is still beauty all around us.

As I drove home, now bearing bags of fresh peas, strawberries, salad greens and a very handsome cauliflower, I admired the light over the lake and was reminded of a message my dear friend Marilyn sent recently which included a poem written by Polish writer Adan Zagajewski, who died earlier this year:

                  Try to Praise the Mutilated World

Remember June's long days,

and wild strawberries, drops of rosé wine.

The nettles that methodically overgrow

the abandoned homesteads of exiles.

You must praise the mutilated world.

You watched the stylish yachts and ships;

one of them had a long trip ahead of it,

while salty oblivion awaited others.

You've seen the refugees going nowhere,

you've heard the executioners sing joyfully.

You should praise the mutilated world.

Remember the moments when we were together

in a white room and the curtain fluttered.

Return in thought to the concert where music flared.

You gathered acorns in the park in autumn

and leaves eddied over the earth's scars.

Praise the mutilated world

and the gray feather a thrush lost,

and the gentle light that strays and vanishes

and returns.

                     Translated by Clare Cavanaugh. 

Nature is healing, and a return to memories can often offer joy.. Despite the troubling news, there is yet so much to praise.

Truth

 

Recently I heard Chief Casimir‘s comment, referring to the deaths of children at the Kamloops residential school, “We had a knowing in our community that we were able to verify. To our knowledge, these missing children are undocumented deaths.”

I think there’s also been “a knowing” in the non-indigenous community. An uncomfortable and unacknowledged knowing. But now that we have seen that knowing reflected in cold, hard numbers – 215! – we must all face the painful truth.

It’s well worth listening to the words of the Honorable Murray Sinclair, Former senator who chaired the Truth and Reconciliation Commission: https://www.thestar.com/news/canada/2021/06/01/murray-sinclairs-statement-on-the-remains-of-children-found-in-kamloops.html

Clearly, there is more truth to be told and heard.

There are two words in the tile of the  TRC: Truth and Reconciliation. Without truth, there can be no reconciliation. Both are crucial and long overdue.

In Praise of the Dandelion

As children, many of us liked nothing better than having a nap on a bank of grass, surrounded by dandelions, daisies, buttercups, butterflies and bees. That was back in the day when your home was less of a showcase than a place to be enjoyed, with picnics on the grass in the summer and with the backyard frozen over to become a skating rink in the winter.

In the 16^th century, lawns were first cultivated around castles in France and England, a status symbol for the very rich. In England, in the 17^th century, wealthy landowners proudly maintained closely shorn grass, though many of them used sheep rather than human labour to keep the grass short. In the 18^th and 19^th centuries, the great houses of Britain maintained large well-manicured lawns, usually with the help of hired labour. By the middle of the 20^th century grass lawns became the standard for suburban homes. Since that time, for many people, pride of ownership has required that a lawn be green, weed-free, and manicured. As a result, in North America, grass lawns are major consumers of water, pesticides, and a good deal of weekend labour by the homeowner.

On Twitter recently. there were a few comments from a people complaining that there appeared to be more and more dandelions this year, implying that people were being slovenly in failing to remove them and were making the neighbourhood appear neglected.  Almost immediately there were hundreds of responses noting the importance of dandelions for bees and other pollinators as well as noting the health benefits they offer humans.

Many people suggested that the increased presence of dandelions may be a result of environmental organization asking us to stow away our lawnmowers for the month of May in order to allow food sources to bloom and to provide food supplies for insects such as bees, butterflies and ants. In a recent article about “No Mow May,” Matthew Braun, manager of conservation, science and planning with the Nature Conservancy of Canada, noted that, “if we are “looking for ways to contribute to conservation and green ideas and biodiversity in our own backyards," this is one small thing that could make a big difference: https://globalnews.ca/news/7847490/no-mow-may-campaign-biodiversity/

There’s nothing wrong with dandelions. These sprightly flowers have been used as medicines for centuries in various cultures. Some health practitioners claim that dandelions may offer benefits to humans such as providing anti-oxidants, decreasing swelling, regulating blood sugar and boosting the immune system: https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/324083  

Many people have also used dandelions to make a delicious dessert wine which has a beautiful golden colour and a flavour that has been compared to mead.

If we don't think of them as weeds and nuisances, surely we will welcome dandelions as an attractive and beneficial addition to a field of grass or a front lawn.

We might even greet them eagerly as Walt Whitman did (Leaves of Grass)

Simple and fresh and fair from winter's close emerging,
As if no artifice of fashion, business, politics, had ever been,
Forth from its sunny nook of shelter'd grass—innocent, golden, calm as the dawn,
The spring's first dandelion shows its trustful face.

 

Soil

 

In the beginning there was soil, a splash of seawater and a sliver of stardust. Or something like that. Certainly in the beginning, whether you’re reading Genesis, or Greek myths about Prometheus, or Mesopotamian creation myths, there will be some reference to humans being formed from clay. Then life was breathed into them and from then on it was dust to dust, ashes to ashes. Whatever words you use, whatever stories you tell, it’s clear that soil is key to human life.

And yet, many of us haven't paid enough attention to the soil. The word itself can have a negative association. To “sully" or "soil ourselves” can refer to our reputation being tainted, or worse, to losing control over one’s bowels. 

Partridge’s etymological dictionary connects the word first with the Latin solum, the lower part or base of anything, e.g. the bed of the sea, a floor, and the ground itself, and also the Latin sul and the Old French soillier which gives words like stain, bemire and sully. Both those meanings remain with us so that, although we admire the fruits of the earth, we urge children not to get dirty.

Until recently, most of us haven’t paid enough attention to the importance of soil. Just as we look at the stars but fail to see the sky, we look at the ground and see flowers and plants but not the soil. But that’s changing. Many scientists are now writing about the importance of soil, pointing out that life above the ground depends upon the soil and that no plants would grow and no people could live without soil organisms.

https://www.manchester.ac.uk/discover/news/why-soil-matters-more-to-life-than-we-realise/

Here in B.C., we are learning a lot from internationally renowned UBC scientist Suzanne Simard who, in her new book, Mother Tree, tells us about the understory of the forest, how underground networks of trees and fungi form partnership called mycorrhizas through which they exchange water and various nutrients for carbon-rich sugars. Simard suggests that mycorrhizal communication involves “not just resource transfers, but things like defense signaling and kin recognition.” What we may have thought of as the dirt under our feet turns out to be precious soil that is teeming with life, rich with resources, and full of information.

https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2021/05/04/993430007/trees-talk-to-each-other-mother-tree-ecologist-hears-lessons-for-people-too

Leonard Da Vinci always knew that soil was important and he regretted his lack knowledge about it: “We know more about the movement of celestial bodies than about the soil underfoot.” 

Mahatma Gandhi emphasized how important it was for people to pay attention to the soil: “To forget how to dig the earth and to tend the soil is to forget ourselves.” 

Thankfully, it turns out that there is much exciting work on soil regeneration currently happening around the world and here in Canada:

https://regenerationcanada.org/en/about-us/

I’m writing this post on Mother’s Day, and so I’m sending best wishes to all of the mothers I know and gratitude to all the mothers who brought us here. I’m feeling thankful for Mother Earth – for her soul and her soil. It’s not too late for us to learn from her teachings.

 

Note: There have been some changes to my blog which sometimes means that the links don’t work. If they aren’t connecting you to the reference, you may have to copy the link and paste it into your browser. Apologies – I’m trying to get this fixed.

Earthworms

I’m enjoying seeing the robins proudly perching on my fence. The robins are enjoying seeing worms out on the grass -- and they’re very proud of their catches. The circle of life continues.

Some of my early childhood memories involve my older brother collecting buckets of worms for a fishing expedition. The image of these worms, pink and slimy, writhing around in the bucket, was disturbing. I didn’t like the worms, but I was sorry to think of them being fastened on hooks as bait for fish. The fish too were soon to die, of course. More circle of life stuff.

There are many ways in which worms can make one uncomfortable: the pallid, slimy look of them, the way they squiggle, their underground nature. Some therapists suggest that in dreams worms symbolize negative feelings of degradation or weakness. In everyday life, worms have unpleasant associations: when we die, we become food for worms; a difficult problem becomes a can of worms; unethical people worm information out of us, or worm their way into things. Wormy food is infested or damaged. Wormy people are weak, unpleasant or untrustworthy.

But recently I’ve encountered other ways of looking at worms. Gardeners delight in worms and have always known about their importance. Growers study composting techniques, and sometimes have been known to buy worms. You can buy them by the pound or inch at a store near you, or you can order online.

My friend Al McWilliam, a Vancouver artist, says “Worms are the ultimate transformers: they take waste and turn it into something valuable.” Inspired by the transformative contributions worms were making to his compost, Al took photographs of worms burrowing through his compost and made large prints of the results. These photographs have been shown io various settings and about five years ago they were turned into signs with the text “Development Permit Application,” under the auspices of Other Sights, as part of Vancouver Western Front’s multi-site exhibition called “Urgent Imagination:”

ttps://www.vancouverisawesome.com/courier-archive/news/worms-inspire-mount-pleasant-art-exhibition-3020340

The exhibition encouraged viewers to reflect on what development means and to consider the kind of development that is taking place underground, not just the rapid development above. As part of the exhibition, Meredith Quartermain read a poem about worms called “How to Remember.” In it, she asks, “Earthworms who eat rotting leaves in temperate forests are invasive species, but Homo sapiens who burn down forests for hamburger farms are creating wealth?”

http://urgentimagination.front.bc.ca/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/How-To-Remember-Meredith-Quartermain.pdf

Al says he sees the worms as “kind of beautiful and elegant,” which would be a stretch for me, but I have to acknowledge that they do valuable work. In fact, as world-renowned Canadian scientist and humanitarian Ursula Franklin has pointed out, they present a useful model for social change and development:

“Social change will not come to us like an avalanche down the mountain,” she said. “It will come through seeds growing in well prepared soil – and it is we, like the earthworms, who prepare the soil. We also seed thoughts and knowledge and concern. We realize there are no guarantees as to what will come up. Yet we do know that without the seeds and prepared soil nothing will grow at all… we need more earthworming.” (For more on Ursula Franklin, read her book The Real World of Technology based on her CBC Massy Lectures.)

Maybe the pandemic has presented us with the critical need for earthworming, not just in the creation and cultivation of gardens, but in thinking about how we might prepare the soil for social change. What seeds of thought and knowledge and concern could we be planting as we emerge from our isolation? Like it or not, this is a time of change, so let’s keep up our earthworming, preparing the soil and choosing the seeds that matter.

Good Work

 Fifty years ago, E.F. Schumacher wrote a book called Small is Beautiful: A Study of Economics as If People Mattered. It combined thoughts about environmentalism and economics in a way that challenged what Schumacher called “gigantism” and the philosophy of “bigger is better.” In it, Schumacher proposed that the economic system was dehumanizing and that big organizations destroyed the satisfaction people could enjoy from good work. A number of Schumacher’s lectures were later summarized in Good Work, which was published after his death. 

During the 70’s, both books were hailed as influential and they prompted discussion about globalization and sustainability. At the same time, slogans such as “Zero Population growth,” and “Think Global, Act Local,” were popular. References to Schumacher’s writing declined in subsequent decades, but recently there has been a new interest in his ideas:

http://ceconforum.org/2019/02/18/reading-e-f-schumacher-in-2019/

https://centerforneweconomics.org/publications/e-f-schumacher-he-taught-us-to-build-bridges-and-plant-trees/

Although he would likely have been discouraged to see that the model of production has not changed and the profit motive has not lessened, Schumacher would certainly be pleased about the increased focus on the environment and he’d probably be delighted to see the interest in community gardening and home gardens. A recent study shows that the pandemic has caused many Canadians to create or expand home gardens: https://www.dal.ca/sites/agri-food/research/home-food-gardening-during-covid-19.html.

This year, several people I know developed a new interest in gardening. Some who lack outdoor space have started growing plants on their balconies or patios. Others have expanded their gardens and also built greenhouses. Many say that gardening is what’s keeping them sane during increased Covid numbers, uncertainty, restrictions, and lockdowns. These gardeners seem to me to be the happiest people I know. And they don’t mind getting their hands dirty!

Which reminds me of a recent poem that inspires me:

Ode to Dirt

by Sharon Olds

Dear dirt, I am sorry I slighted you,
I thought that you were only the background
for the leading characters—the plants
and animals and human animals.
It’s as if I had loved only the stars
and not the sky which gave them space
in which to shine. Subtle, various,
sensitive, you are the skin of our terrain,
you’re our democracy. When I understood
I had never honored you as a living
equal, I was ashamed of myself,
as if I had not recognized
a character who looked so different from me,
but now I can see us all, made of the
same basic materials—
cousins of that first exploding from nothing—
in our intricate equation together. O dirt,
help us find ways to serve your life,
you who have brought us forth, and fed us,
and who at the end will take us in
and rotate with us, and wobble, and orbit.

 

Sharon Olds is an American poet who is worth reading Check out her website: https://www.sharonolds.net/biography

Many poets have written about the importance of gardening. Margaret Atwood is frequently quoted as saying, “In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.” May Sarton said, “Gardening is an instrument of grace.” Then there is 18^th century poet and artist Minnie Aumonier’s memorable line, “When the world wearies and society fails to satisfy, there is always the garden.” That seems particularly appropriate just now.

But, thinking of Schumacher’s writings and the need to recognize the beauty of a smaller world, I’m reminded of Voltaire’s Candide. Searching for the “best of all possible worlds,” Candide travels from country to country witnessing and experiencing horrendous hardship, misfortune, cruelty and painful disillusion. Finally, he settles on a small farm and sets to work. The final words of the novel are “il faut cultiver notre jardin" -- we must cultivate our garden.

It looks like a lot of people are doing just that. It’s hopeful!

Springing Up

 

It’s that time of year when everything seems to be springing up – daffodils, cherry blossoms, birds, vaccine dates, feelings of hope. Covid numbers are also springing up, and last week my heart rate decided to rise up… and down… and up even higher. In a highly irregular way.

So it was back to Emergency at Nanaimo Regional General Hospital for me last week, as was the case last summer. At that time, I had a cardio version procedure that served me well up until now. Again this year I had the same procedure and, once again, I’m feeling well. And very grateful to the professional staff who treated me so kindly, carefully and professionally. My nurse, Amanda, Dr. Shepherd, Dr. Lane, the respiratory assistant and other staff were helpful and efficient.

I know a few people who've had very different and extremely frustrating experiences at NRGH, but my own experience was positive. I felt lucky to receive such good care, especially during a pandemic with the additional challenges it brings. I wrote last year that hearts on windows and banging on pots could not begin to express what we owe to our health workers. That’s still true. I’m grateful to all of them. And thankful for the excellent Medicare programs provided by out federal and provincial governments. I feel fortunate.

It looks as though some things may soon begin to open up. Easter is traditionally a time to celebrate resilience and rebirth. Again, we hope for that.

But everything is different now. This Easter, most of us are emerging from one of the most challenging years we’ve known -- a year of uncertainty, isolation, apprehension and loneliness. Part of our resbirth will mean learning to live differently. It’s been a whole year of learning how to live carefully, which should help. It reminds me of an ee cummings poem about spring:

Spring is like a perhaps hand

Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere) arranging
a window, into which people look (while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here) and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and fro moving New and
Old things, while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there) and

without breaking anything.

Things will continue to change as we move through this spring, into summer, and into whatever is yet to come.

Let’s hope we can embrace all the changes carefully, “without breaking anything.”

And not only with care; acceptance is also needed.  I have to accept that my atrial fibrillation is such that it’s time for me to stop drinking. That’s not too hard. What will be harder, and just as necessary, is learning to accept that viruses have always been with us and that this one and its variants are here to stay.

Instead of fighting the virus, I want to learn to accept it. Farmers I know, and people who live by the water, have learned to accept mice and rats as part of their environment. Just another species. Part of the web of life.

If we can accept these viruses, maybe we can learn to live with them.

But we’ll have to keep being very careful.