Evening oak,
Rustle a smile for my soft stepping
Careful of Slippery Jack, wayward twigs
And queen ivy's crimson arms.
The snake's hollow rattle an auspicious greeting
While salamanders slip under crystal waters
Fire-bellied and Awakended.
This is my California and
Here I know Peace.
In these woods I am known.
The quail in my heart will die out, with me
Long before the quail of these woods because
Shivering does yet crouch in quiet dark corners
Gray-suited quirrels laugh madly on high
And spiders weave silver dreams over the meadows
Even while my restful slumber spins eternal.
Mind at ease, I breathe well-worn scents
Crushing fragrant brittle leaves, scuffing dirt and roots
Along crusty clay-red trails
Dawn and Dusk
And if I should grow weary,
Legs spent in joyful communion,
I will simply rest my head softly
Next to an eager trunked sapling,
Promising the infinity of earth.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Sunday, April 15, 2012
The Answer
Then what is the answer?- Not to be deluded by dreams.
To know that great civilizations have broken down into violence,
and their tyrants come, many times before.
When open violence appears, to avoid it with honor or choose
the least ugly faction; these evils are essential.
To keep one's own integrity, be merciful and uncorrupted and
not wish for evil; and not be duped
By dreams of universal justice or happiness. These dreams will
not be fulfilled.
To know this, and know that however ugly the parts appear the
whole remains beautiful. A severed hand
Is an ugly thing and man dissevered from the earth and stars
and his history... for contemplation or in fact...
Often appears atrociously ugly. Integrity is wholeness,
the greatest beauty is
Organic wholeness, the wholeness of life and things, the divine
beauty of the universe. Love that, not man
Apart from that, or else you will share man's pitiful confusions,
or drown in despair when his days darken.
-Robinson Jeffers
Junior year of high school I was unassumingly recommended Robinson Jeffers for a poetry project in English. As per the requirements, I did literary analyses on a few poems, as well as a few poetic imitations; including one for this beauty here: The Answer. I was proud of what I came up with; but not brave enough to display it here.
I can't tell you why I chose that particular piece to ape. I probably didn't quite grasp its significance at the time, being a simple-minded teenager. But somehow it felt the most powerful or truthful, even if its meanings were quite beyond me.
But just last week I rediscovered the work of Jeffers. I devoured his dense collection of poems in a matter of days. While some were vaguely familiar, they each took on greater depth and meaning for me. I felt like I understood them now. His words were alive with truth. They just fit so perfectly. And when I turned my attention to The Answer for the first time in probably three years, I discovered a near flawless reflection of the life philosophy that I have come to hold. I was pretty floored.
It is strange to think that perhaps my spiritual and intellectual trajectory was determined all the way back in those adolescent days. Who would have guessed.
Not me.
To know that great civilizations have broken down into violence,
and their tyrants come, many times before.
When open violence appears, to avoid it with honor or choose
the least ugly faction; these evils are essential.
To keep one's own integrity, be merciful and uncorrupted and
not wish for evil; and not be duped
By dreams of universal justice or happiness. These dreams will
not be fulfilled.
To know this, and know that however ugly the parts appear the
whole remains beautiful. A severed hand
Is an ugly thing and man dissevered from the earth and stars
and his history... for contemplation or in fact...
Often appears atrociously ugly. Integrity is wholeness,
the greatest beauty is
Organic wholeness, the wholeness of life and things, the divine
beauty of the universe. Love that, not man
Apart from that, or else you will share man's pitiful confusions,
or drown in despair when his days darken.
-Robinson Jeffers
Junior year of high school I was unassumingly recommended Robinson Jeffers for a poetry project in English. As per the requirements, I did literary analyses on a few poems, as well as a few poetic imitations; including one for this beauty here: The Answer. I was proud of what I came up with; but not brave enough to display it here.
I can't tell you why I chose that particular piece to ape. I probably didn't quite grasp its significance at the time, being a simple-minded teenager. But somehow it felt the most powerful or truthful, even if its meanings were quite beyond me.
But just last week I rediscovered the work of Jeffers. I devoured his dense collection of poems in a matter of days. While some were vaguely familiar, they each took on greater depth and meaning for me. I felt like I understood them now. His words were alive with truth. They just fit so perfectly. And when I turned my attention to The Answer for the first time in probably three years, I discovered a near flawless reflection of the life philosophy that I have come to hold. I was pretty floored.
It is strange to think that perhaps my spiritual and intellectual trajectory was determined all the way back in those adolescent days. Who would have guessed.
Not me.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Let Me Introduce You To...
Beastwars.
They're a Kiwi band from the nation's capital, Wellington. While I had heard the name once or twice on the internet, I had never much taken notice of the band. That is until I chanced upon a gig poster, saturated in skulls and black ink, advertising for that very November evening in Palmerston North. I decided I couldn't pass up the opportunity. And I'm sure glad I didn't.
At first put off by the dingy pub vibes and the meager crowd, I managed to suffer through the opening acts with optimism. Admittedly, Bloodspry for Politics, despite their unimaginative moniker, cranked out some decent approximations of Cryptic Slaughter tunes.
Nonetheless, when Beastwars took the stage around 11pm, the atmosphere shifted palpably towards something near humble reverence. It was about to begin.
What followed was an hour of trance-like riff worship and inspired delivery. It was if I could do nothing but bang my head to every song. It was unbelievably contagious. Vocalist Matt Hyde appeared to have left his earthly body; eyes rolled back, head to the sky, beseeching the crowd with wild gestures. He was rapt. I was rapt. I didn't want it to end.
Walking out the front doors after the show that night, I felt as though ripped from a pleasant reverie. I wanted to remain among the pummelling riffs and the pervasive sense of mysticism. Even if my ears were ringing and I felt like I could faint from exhaustion. None of this dull, tepid reality.
That Beastwars gig, for me at least, felt like some sort of cathartic spiritual quest. I truly underestimated the power of their music and the force of their delivery. That's how we do shit in NZ.
Get lost in it.
http://beastwars.bandcamp.com/
They're a Kiwi band from the nation's capital, Wellington. While I had heard the name once or twice on the internet, I had never much taken notice of the band. That is until I chanced upon a gig poster, saturated in skulls and black ink, advertising for that very November evening in Palmerston North. I decided I couldn't pass up the opportunity. And I'm sure glad I didn't.
At first put off by the dingy pub vibes and the meager crowd, I managed to suffer through the opening acts with optimism. Admittedly, Bloodspry for Politics, despite their unimaginative moniker, cranked out some decent approximations of Cryptic Slaughter tunes.
Nonetheless, when Beastwars took the stage around 11pm, the atmosphere shifted palpably towards something near humble reverence. It was about to begin.
What followed was an hour of trance-like riff worship and inspired delivery. It was if I could do nothing but bang my head to every song. It was unbelievably contagious. Vocalist Matt Hyde appeared to have left his earthly body; eyes rolled back, head to the sky, beseeching the crowd with wild gestures. He was rapt. I was rapt. I didn't want it to end.
Walking out the front doors after the show that night, I felt as though ripped from a pleasant reverie. I wanted to remain among the pummelling riffs and the pervasive sense of mysticism. Even if my ears were ringing and I felt like I could faint from exhaustion. None of this dull, tepid reality.
That Beastwars gig, for me at least, felt like some sort of cathartic spiritual quest. I truly underestimated the power of their music and the force of their delivery. That's how we do shit in NZ.
Get lost in it.
http://beastwars.bandcamp.com/
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Man and Crisis
Lately I've been reading Man and Crisis by the Spanish liberal philosopher Jose Ortega y Gasset. In it I've found a few interesting ideas with implications for human ecology.
To begin with, let's suppose that every man is caught in an existential plight, struggling to orient himself within his unsolicited circumstances. The main focus of his life is simply to survive in this strange, incomprehensible world. This means experiencing, testing and determining which ideas we can rely on: will that chair remain solid if I sit upon it, or will it dissolve into nothingess? Humans go through this fundamental and necessary process of forging a functional reality, so that we may continue to live. Each man and woman is charged with the construction of their own convictions, because we are ultimately individual agents and cannot transmit the right to live onto our fellow. Even by surrendering to the will and whim of another, we still choose that such is the mechanism we will make our decisions by.
In order to aid ourselves in the fabrication of effective realities, man has arrived at culture; the accumulation of thoughts and opinions held by those who preceded us or our contemporaries. This cultural knowledge reduces the pressure on the individual to industriously build up his understandings through firsthand experience and internal consideration. He can now let others do it for him.
The net result, however, is a society of men who take their ideas on the good words of others, and often do not care to test them out personally. For instance, it can be said that much of science is characterized by a certain kind of faith equal to that of religious conviction. Have you ever seen the electrons transferred between the sodium and chloride atoms of your table salt? I sure haven't. Of course, being a science major, I'm clearly not here to deny its practicality or the suitability of its theories. The point simply remains that that it is a system largely taken on faith by those outside of the scientific community.
Continuing on though. By Ortega y Gasset's defintion, man is in crisis when he cannot locate or differentiate his own personal beliefs and ideas amidst the myriad offered by the culture of others. He is only at peace when he is in agreement within himself. As evidenced by history, man must occasionally shake off his amassed culture in order to reconnect with what is in his own mind. The Renaissance, for example, was the action of escaping Christianity to embrace the immediacy of human reason.
My conceit then is that mankind today is staggeringly encumbered by his own culture. The proliferation of information has in effect alienated the individual to a greater distance from his own tried and true realities. We live in a world governed not by our own conscious opinions and decisions, but by the ideas of mass society. These are the faceless ideas that cannot be attributed to any one person, because they were not generated in such fashion. Man trades in his own beliefs for those of the fickle and unnamed 'people' with whom he identifies.
Yet as mentioned, there inevitably comes a time to divest ourselves of these sedimentary conventions. Like depositions of silt, they weigh down on us from many sources; assumptions, suppositions, dogma and the like.
It is clear that our world today is in crisis. There is a great deal of dissatisfaction, regarding nearly every facet of our modern lives. We crave social justice, gender equality, and corporate responsibility. We crave a closer connection to the natural world, away from the industrialization that has come between us. Or at least some of us do. But all together we crave to be at home within ourselves. And according to Ortega y Gasset, this is a natural human cycle.
The challenge thus becomes one of choosing the best solution to our specific crisis. It's the chance to replace the underpinnings of our society and our culture with something more ecologically sensitive; perhaps that holistic worldview I posted about recently. That's the link in all of this. Man has come to a historical point in its progression, and now the stage is set to decide how we will move on from our alienated relationship with the land and with ourselves. Capitalist culture has weighed down on us long enough. Now is the time to stand on our own two feet and decide was is the truth of our surroundings, of our interactions therein. Of our human ecology.
To begin with, let's suppose that every man is caught in an existential plight, struggling to orient himself within his unsolicited circumstances. The main focus of his life is simply to survive in this strange, incomprehensible world. This means experiencing, testing and determining which ideas we can rely on: will that chair remain solid if I sit upon it, or will it dissolve into nothingess? Humans go through this fundamental and necessary process of forging a functional reality, so that we may continue to live. Each man and woman is charged with the construction of their own convictions, because we are ultimately individual agents and cannot transmit the right to live onto our fellow. Even by surrendering to the will and whim of another, we still choose that such is the mechanism we will make our decisions by.
In order to aid ourselves in the fabrication of effective realities, man has arrived at culture; the accumulation of thoughts and opinions held by those who preceded us or our contemporaries. This cultural knowledge reduces the pressure on the individual to industriously build up his understandings through firsthand experience and internal consideration. He can now let others do it for him.
The net result, however, is a society of men who take their ideas on the good words of others, and often do not care to test them out personally. For instance, it can be said that much of science is characterized by a certain kind of faith equal to that of religious conviction. Have you ever seen the electrons transferred between the sodium and chloride atoms of your table salt? I sure haven't. Of course, being a science major, I'm clearly not here to deny its practicality or the suitability of its theories. The point simply remains that that it is a system largely taken on faith by those outside of the scientific community.
Continuing on though. By Ortega y Gasset's defintion, man is in crisis when he cannot locate or differentiate his own personal beliefs and ideas amidst the myriad offered by the culture of others. He is only at peace when he is in agreement within himself. As evidenced by history, man must occasionally shake off his amassed culture in order to reconnect with what is in his own mind. The Renaissance, for example, was the action of escaping Christianity to embrace the immediacy of human reason.
My conceit then is that mankind today is staggeringly encumbered by his own culture. The proliferation of information has in effect alienated the individual to a greater distance from his own tried and true realities. We live in a world governed not by our own conscious opinions and decisions, but by the ideas of mass society. These are the faceless ideas that cannot be attributed to any one person, because they were not generated in such fashion. Man trades in his own beliefs for those of the fickle and unnamed 'people' with whom he identifies.
Yet as mentioned, there inevitably comes a time to divest ourselves of these sedimentary conventions. Like depositions of silt, they weigh down on us from many sources; assumptions, suppositions, dogma and the like.
It is clear that our world today is in crisis. There is a great deal of dissatisfaction, regarding nearly every facet of our modern lives. We crave social justice, gender equality, and corporate responsibility. We crave a closer connection to the natural world, away from the industrialization that has come between us. Or at least some of us do. But all together we crave to be at home within ourselves. And according to Ortega y Gasset, this is a natural human cycle.
The challenge thus becomes one of choosing the best solution to our specific crisis. It's the chance to replace the underpinnings of our society and our culture with something more ecologically sensitive; perhaps that holistic worldview I posted about recently. That's the link in all of this. Man has come to a historical point in its progression, and now the stage is set to decide how we will move on from our alienated relationship with the land and with ourselves. Capitalist culture has weighed down on us long enough. Now is the time to stand on our own two feet and decide was is the truth of our surroundings, of our interactions therein. Of our human ecology.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
On the Morality of Viticulture
In recent months I've become increasingly aware of a paradoxical element within the way I construct my identity: wine. It encompasses disparate aspects that I both love and loathe.
On one hand, I grew up in wine coutry where a few bottles of the stuff was requisite fare for any social gathering. The wine rack assumed a natural presence in my conception of adult life. Now in New Zealand where the drinking age is lowered to 18, I've been delving into the oenological world and trying to grasp the characteristics of sundry varietals. It's an acquired taste, one that is almost certainly acquired for reasons beyond mere flavour.
Viticulture holds a special place for me in terms of aesthetics as well. I spent my youth being shuttled to and from school or sport, always gazing out the window into the endless rows, eyeing their heavy fruits jealously and marvelling at the stunning color of their broad leaves. Those vines, standing sentry all across the valley,helped to shape my understanding of the land. I'm almost even disappointed when I find myself in a place without acre upon acre of gnarled rootstock climbing the hillside. When I spent two weeks working a permaculture farm on Waiheke Island here in NZ, I was thrilled to find myself surrounded by wineries. I felt comforted in a way I didn't think possible. I kept telling people how at home I felt there, simply because the landscape was reminiscent of Sonoma.
At the moment I'm even considering biodynamic viticulture as a career path. It seems a natural choice, given that I grew up just down the road from an award-winning label who helped pioneer the field. However, considering the matter more objectively, I've come to notice a few details within the general practice of winemaking that clash with my environmentalist and health-nut ethos.
For one thing, vineyards are the enemies of native landscapes. The indigenous oak woodlands of northern California have been largely sidelined by the parallel repititions of vines, being treated almost as intruders in their own land. As the industry has proved more lucractive over the years, greater areas of land have been clear for planting. This issues is especially poignant in the case of the Gravenstein apples of Sebastopol. The ancient, bowed and stooped trees of this cherished heirloom variety are being uprooted because of their insufficient economic performance; to be replaced by none other than Vitis vinifera.
In the process, previous biodiversity is jeopardized as greater exapenses of native habitat are co-opted for commercial purposes. Conservationist that I am, this leaves a somewhat unsavoury taste in my mouth. Which leads me to my next point: that wine as a beverage is fundamentally a poison, alcohol.
As with any alcohol, irresponsible use can lead to the loss of coherence; a fact with has ever kept me off heavy drinking. A few glasses in an evening is harmless enough, it's true. There are even potential health benefits in the polyphenols of red wine (though the grapes themselves would do just as well, if not better). But in general, I'm not terribly keen on intoxicants. As such the notion of joining and industry predicated upon the proliferation of alcohol makes me uneasy. Perhaps moreso because I don't trust the moderation of most people, and tend to envision the destructive effects; or at least the boisterous abuse some may put the beverage to. Yet likely enough the positive social benefits outweigh the carelessness of the few.
It must also be admitted that the operation of a vineyard is an inherently stratified arrangement. The lower classes undertake the brunt of the hard labour, only to taste little of their efforts. Their refined products fetch prices far beyond their means, especially for the seasonal workers. Perhaps this is simply the inarguable logic of the capitalist system, but I see it as the perpetuation of bourgeoise dominance over their oftentimes ethnic labourers. Maybe social justice is a bit beyond my scope, but the spectre of inequality still haunts my vision of the vineyard.
Returning to the positives though, my research into the Slow Food movement has also proven wine to be an undeniable marker of cultural identity in the face of global homogenization. The terroir of a place is distinct and inimitable. I'm fascinated by the alchemy of soil, vine, fruit and fermentation to produce something wholly unique to its time and place. I see that as something worthy of respect, especially when attended to with an artisanal sensitivity. I've elsewhere described my admiration for such examples of individual passion and committment.
In the end, I believe I'll come to embrace wine through my misgivings, and perhaps work to settle the issues I perceive. It is simply too integral to my understanding of the world. And I would like to think that it does hold the potential to heal the psychic wounds of modernity by returning us to the land and creating a product in rhythm with natural processes.
Besides, what's a social gathering without wine anyways?
On one hand, I grew up in wine coutry where a few bottles of the stuff was requisite fare for any social gathering. The wine rack assumed a natural presence in my conception of adult life. Now in New Zealand where the drinking age is lowered to 18, I've been delving into the oenological world and trying to grasp the characteristics of sundry varietals. It's an acquired taste, one that is almost certainly acquired for reasons beyond mere flavour.
Viticulture holds a special place for me in terms of aesthetics as well. I spent my youth being shuttled to and from school or sport, always gazing out the window into the endless rows, eyeing their heavy fruits jealously and marvelling at the stunning color of their broad leaves. Those vines, standing sentry all across the valley,helped to shape my understanding of the land. I'm almost even disappointed when I find myself in a place without acre upon acre of gnarled rootstock climbing the hillside. When I spent two weeks working a permaculture farm on Waiheke Island here in NZ, I was thrilled to find myself surrounded by wineries. I felt comforted in a way I didn't think possible. I kept telling people how at home I felt there, simply because the landscape was reminiscent of Sonoma.
At the moment I'm even considering biodynamic viticulture as a career path. It seems a natural choice, given that I grew up just down the road from an award-winning label who helped pioneer the field. However, considering the matter more objectively, I've come to notice a few details within the general practice of winemaking that clash with my environmentalist and health-nut ethos.
For one thing, vineyards are the enemies of native landscapes. The indigenous oak woodlands of northern California have been largely sidelined by the parallel repititions of vines, being treated almost as intruders in their own land. As the industry has proved more lucractive over the years, greater areas of land have been clear for planting. This issues is especially poignant in the case of the Gravenstein apples of Sebastopol. The ancient, bowed and stooped trees of this cherished heirloom variety are being uprooted because of their insufficient economic performance; to be replaced by none other than Vitis vinifera.
In the process, previous biodiversity is jeopardized as greater exapenses of native habitat are co-opted for commercial purposes. Conservationist that I am, this leaves a somewhat unsavoury taste in my mouth. Which leads me to my next point: that wine as a beverage is fundamentally a poison, alcohol.
As with any alcohol, irresponsible use can lead to the loss of coherence; a fact with has ever kept me off heavy drinking. A few glasses in an evening is harmless enough, it's true. There are even potential health benefits in the polyphenols of red wine (though the grapes themselves would do just as well, if not better). But in general, I'm not terribly keen on intoxicants. As such the notion of joining and industry predicated upon the proliferation of alcohol makes me uneasy. Perhaps moreso because I don't trust the moderation of most people, and tend to envision the destructive effects; or at least the boisterous abuse some may put the beverage to. Yet likely enough the positive social benefits outweigh the carelessness of the few.
It must also be admitted that the operation of a vineyard is an inherently stratified arrangement. The lower classes undertake the brunt of the hard labour, only to taste little of their efforts. Their refined products fetch prices far beyond their means, especially for the seasonal workers. Perhaps this is simply the inarguable logic of the capitalist system, but I see it as the perpetuation of bourgeoise dominance over their oftentimes ethnic labourers. Maybe social justice is a bit beyond my scope, but the spectre of inequality still haunts my vision of the vineyard.
Returning to the positives though, my research into the Slow Food movement has also proven wine to be an undeniable marker of cultural identity in the face of global homogenization. The terroir of a place is distinct and inimitable. I'm fascinated by the alchemy of soil, vine, fruit and fermentation to produce something wholly unique to its time and place. I see that as something worthy of respect, especially when attended to with an artisanal sensitivity. I've elsewhere described my admiration for such examples of individual passion and committment.
In the end, I believe I'll come to embrace wine through my misgivings, and perhaps work to settle the issues I perceive. It is simply too integral to my understanding of the world. And I would like to think that it does hold the potential to heal the psychic wounds of modernity by returning us to the land and creating a product in rhythm with natural processes.
Besides, what's a social gathering without wine anyways?
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Achieving Holistic Understanding
Today I want to discuss environmentalism as a more spiritual practice; or at least a more holistic sensibility. Stay with me here. It is my opinion that broader structural changes will not come without the individual internalization of environmental ethics and the establishment of greener cultural values. At present, natural resources issues are still measured against the ruler of economic performance and short-term return. This is the devil's algebra, for lack of a better expression. What we need is an alternate means of conceptualizing value and making policy decisions that reflect this. If our ecological relationships were mediated by something approaching religious respect, then our courses of action would not be given over to such perverse equations as the aforementioned.
Admittedly, this post comes on the back of just having finished a book entitled Environmental Philosophy and Ethics in Buddhism. That's where I'm drawing these notions of 'spirituality' from. It is not meant to connote anything remotely theistic. Instead, I conceieve of it as a certain level of understanding regarding the interconnectivity of all the animate forces that inhabit Earth. It is simple ecology, kicked up a notched into metaphysics.(As a disclaimer, no acid has been dropped in the writing of this post).
What it promises is an escape from purely economic thinking, and a reassertion of respect for the complex systems emplaced over evolutionary time. These naturally constructed communities, these webs of being, are being wantonly destroyed by contemporary human activity. They don't factor into our reasoning very strongly at all. This is regardless of religion as well. Modern Buddhists can have a carbon footprint as well.
However, I have come to find positive solutions in the practical philosophies of the Buddha. After all, the Buddha's pedagogy was a multi-tiered system that emphasized contextual responses over strict imperatives. For instance, laymen were given differing instructions than the monks in the ways to lead a decent life. A farmer could still plough his land for agriculture because food is a necessity, though many plants and bugs may be destroyed in the process. Conversely, the monks were restricted from such professions, and were even advised not to travel during the rainy season when they might trample the emerging worms. As such, you'll find none of the categorical moral philosophy that was popularized by Kant in the Western tradition.
The implication of this is that the individual retains a greater amount of responsibility for his own enlightenment, in the same way that we should each be cultivating our own experience-based sensibilities towards the environment. This allows for a much stronger connection to our actions than being instructed what to do by an elevated power such as the government. We should feel how to act and behave towards the land. We should inherently know that strip-mining is an inexcusable violation of the Earth, or that fracking too is condemnable practice.
Ultimately what I'm suggesting is a shift towards eco-centric ethics; a mindset where all of life is taken into account equally, rather than being overshadowed by anthropocentrism. The route I've taken to this sensibility is through Buddhism, but that is by no means the only way. Some of the most passionate environmental literature I've read has been authored by bona fide Creationists who view themselves as stewards of this planet. But the effect is essentially the same. I believe that if only we taken these issues to heart and understand them on a more spiritual or holistic level; or however you might describe it; then a sustainable world may yet prevail.
Admittedly, this post comes on the back of just having finished a book entitled Environmental Philosophy and Ethics in Buddhism. That's where I'm drawing these notions of 'spirituality' from. It is not meant to connote anything remotely theistic. Instead, I conceieve of it as a certain level of understanding regarding the interconnectivity of all the animate forces that inhabit Earth. It is simple ecology, kicked up a notched into metaphysics.(As a disclaimer, no acid has been dropped in the writing of this post).
What it promises is an escape from purely economic thinking, and a reassertion of respect for the complex systems emplaced over evolutionary time. These naturally constructed communities, these webs of being, are being wantonly destroyed by contemporary human activity. They don't factor into our reasoning very strongly at all. This is regardless of religion as well. Modern Buddhists can have a carbon footprint as well.
However, I have come to find positive solutions in the practical philosophies of the Buddha. After all, the Buddha's pedagogy was a multi-tiered system that emphasized contextual responses over strict imperatives. For instance, laymen were given differing instructions than the monks in the ways to lead a decent life. A farmer could still plough his land for agriculture because food is a necessity, though many plants and bugs may be destroyed in the process. Conversely, the monks were restricted from such professions, and were even advised not to travel during the rainy season when they might trample the emerging worms. As such, you'll find none of the categorical moral philosophy that was popularized by Kant in the Western tradition.
The implication of this is that the individual retains a greater amount of responsibility for his own enlightenment, in the same way that we should each be cultivating our own experience-based sensibilities towards the environment. This allows for a much stronger connection to our actions than being instructed what to do by an elevated power such as the government. We should feel how to act and behave towards the land. We should inherently know that strip-mining is an inexcusable violation of the Earth, or that fracking too is condemnable practice.
Ultimately what I'm suggesting is a shift towards eco-centric ethics; a mindset where all of life is taken into account equally, rather than being overshadowed by anthropocentrism. The route I've taken to this sensibility is through Buddhism, but that is by no means the only way. Some of the most passionate environmental literature I've read has been authored by bona fide Creationists who view themselves as stewards of this planet. But the effect is essentially the same. I believe that if only we taken these issues to heart and understand them on a more spiritual or holistic level; or however you might describe it; then a sustainable world may yet prevail.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Planting New Seeds
Hey, guess who's still here.
After an extended absense, I've decided to take up the mantle once again and will be ranting and raving about all things related to environmentalism, food culture and the seemingly unrelated subject of metal music.
The fields have lain fallow for nearly a year now, but as of today I'm preparing to sow a new crop of iconoclastic posts to shake you from the shackels of industrialized life.
There has been a great deal of unexpected change within the intervening year for your humble author; not the least of which was dropping out of college, moving to New Zealand, attending Buddhist meditation retreats and other such shenanigans. All those details will come in due time however.
For now, listen to some Lunar Aurora.
After an extended absense, I've decided to take up the mantle once again and will be ranting and raving about all things related to environmentalism, food culture and the seemingly unrelated subject of metal music.
The fields have lain fallow for nearly a year now, but as of today I'm preparing to sow a new crop of iconoclastic posts to shake you from the shackels of industrialized life.
There has been a great deal of unexpected change within the intervening year for your humble author; not the least of which was dropping out of college, moving to New Zealand, attending Buddhist meditation retreats and other such shenanigans. All those details will come in due time however.
For now, listen to some Lunar Aurora.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)