Let's not waste this crisis!!!

 Long, long, ago, in a country far, far, away, I seem to recall lending my young daughter my copy of Saul Alinsky's Rules for Radicals. I may need to ask for it back unless one or more of the strongly worded letters from a Democrat actually has an effect. I'm tired of reading extended statements purporting to describe things like "I study the resistance against the Nazis. Here’s what the US left can learn from it," that seem very short on substantive, relevant, strategies and / or tactics.

sunrise, dawn of a new era

Photo by J. Harrington

There's a range of opinion regarding whether the advice "Never let a crisis go to waste" should be attributed to Saul, Winston Churchill, or someone else. Whoever was the source, I think it's advice we should follow these days and do our best to dismantle the neoliberal, global capitalist economy while also establishing the Rights of Nature all over the Earth. Mother Nature seems to have caught on to the ad tag line "You can pay me now or you can pay me later." Meanwhile, governments and regimes in power now are doing their best to toady up to extractive economy corporate donors so owned (or rented) politicians can continue to scam their constituents. (Remember the Howard Beale line from Network: "'I'm as mad as hell and I'm not gonna take this anymore!'")

We don't want to fix a broken system that needs to be replaced, we want to replace it. Here's some options to consider as you think about what we need next:

• Center for the Advancement of the Steady State Economy (CASSE)
  
  
• Schumacher Center For New Economics
  
  
•  Global Alliance for the Rights of Nature (GARN)
  
  
• Green Amendments For The Generations

Since I seem to be on a kick of citing old sayings these days, let's also remember this one: "The best defense is a good offense." It fits nicely with Bucky Fuller's observation: “You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete.”

On the Fifth Day

By Jane Hirshfield

On the fifth day

the scientists who studied the rivers

were forbidden to speak

or to study the rivers.

The scientists who studied the air

were told not to speak of the air,

and the ones who worked for the farmers

were silenced,

and the ones who worked for the bees.

Someone, from deep in the Badlands,

began posting facts.

The facts were told not to speak

and were taken away.

The facts, surprised to be taken, were silent.

Now it was only the rivers

that spoke of the rivers,

and only the wind that spoke of its bees,

while the unpausing factual buds of the fruit trees

continued to move toward their fruit.

The silence spoke loudly of silence,

and the rivers kept speaking

of rivers, of boulders and air.

Bound to gravity, earless and tongueless,

the untested rivers kept speaking.

Bus drivers, shelf stockers,

code writers, machinists, accountants,

lab techs, cellists kept speaking.

They spoke, the fifth day,

of silence.

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We're all in/on this together

The world is full of good, or at least better, news, but we won't find it in main stream media's "if it bleeds, it leads" coverage. Try looking in books. I'm just finishing What If We Get It Right, Visions of Climate Futures. It's leaving me feeling encouraged despite yesterday's political assassination and shootings, allegedly by a christian nationalist right-wing police imitator.

For a recent birthday, I received a copy of Robert Macfarlane's Is a River Alive? Reading is underway and, so far, it's as good as I hoped it could be. If Ecuador can incorporate the rights of nature in its constitution, why not US?

Blue Marble
Image Credit: NASA/NOAA/GSFC/Suomi NPP/VIIRS/Norman Kuring

There's a couple or three old sayings you should be aware of: as a recovering planner, I learned quite well that "more of the same never solved a problem." That fits rather well, I think, with “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” And let's not forget, now that we find ourselves at the bottom of a deep hole, to stop digging.

When I was growing up, the future was presented as something objective out there that, over time, we entered. During the past few years I've learned that the future is actually like a garden. It's something we ourselves grow. If we do a good job and work together, we'll have stores to get US through the winter and early spring. If not, we're in serious, perhaps deadly, trouble. Too many of US seem too think going it alone is the solution. Survival and thriving are shared results unless you're the Donner party.

We have become hyper-individualistic to the point of selfdestruction. Let me share an example from the past week or so that, I think, helps make my case. My email inbox has been repeatedly filled by conservation organizations asking me to "Take Action" to change or eliminate one provision or another off the Reconciliation bill in the Senate. None of the requests suggested killing the whole damn POS. I responded that I would ask the members of Congress representing me to Kill the Bill, but not individual provisions. I remain deeply disappointed that there isn't a coalition of conservation interests working to totally defeat the House's crappy work.

Without

Joy Harjo    1951 –

 

The world will keep trudging through time without us

When we lift from the story contest to fly home

We will be as falling stars to those watching from the edge

Of grief and heartbreak

Maybe then we will see the design of the two-minded creature 

And know why half the world fights righteously for greedy masters 

And the other half is nailing it all back together

Through the smoke of cooking fires, lovers’ trysts, and endless 

Human industry—

Maybe then, beloved rascal

We will find each other again in the timeless weave of breathing

We will sit under the trees in the shadow of earth sorrows 

Watch hyenas drink rain, and laugh.

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for the children

 Leaf buds are burst. Leaf out has begun. The creeping Charlie in front of the house  has pretty little blue flowers. The lily of the valley patch along the driveway is about half a foot tall. Spring is sprunging everywhere. Today's temperature is in the upper 70's approaching 80. Next Sunday is Mother's Day. The humming bird / oriole feeder has been filled and hung.

Image Credit: NASA/NOAA/GSFC/Suomi
NPP/VIIRS/Norman Kuring

I'm trying, and sometimes failing, to not let the craziness emanating out of the state and national capitols sour me on the world and many of its inhabitants. When I stop doom scrolling and look around I can find beauty and goodness. Let's see if I feel optimistic enough this week to go buy a fishing license. 🤞

I bet you know that Minnesota's constitution has provisions governing spending lottery funds on environmental projects but doesn't have a "Green Amendment" establishing our right to clean air, clean water and a healthy environment. That strikes me as being a cart before the horse kind of deal. There's an organization / movement, Green Amendments For the Generations, with the mission:

to ensure every person and community across the United States is able to experience the health, quality of life, education, joy and economic prosperity provided by a clean, safe and healthy environment; to end environmental racism; and to help ensure that nature itself is able to thrive, by constitutionally empowering all people to secure and enforce their inalienable human right to pure water, clean air, a stable climate, healthy ecosystems and environments.

Minnesota is not listed as one of the states active in the Green Amendment movement. I'm curious to see if I can get a handle on why and how we might be able to change that. Please feel free to share thoughts in the comments

The Green Amendments movement is similar to but not the same as the Rights of Nature movement. The former focuses on anthropocentric values and the latter on nature's intrinsic values. I think we should look toward a "both and" approach rather than an either / or situation, but it may well turn out to be a one step at a time movement. Now that Minnesota is the headwaters of America's Most Threatened River, the Mississippi, perhaps the powers that be may become more amenable to the proverbial "clean up our act" effort. Stay tuned.

Today's poem is one of my own that I was fortunate enough to find a home for in a book by a friend of ours, Krista Detor's Flat Earth Diary. Most of those who will benefit from Green Amendments aren't yet born or grown up.

        A Way 

Earth's children grow
leave home
go away where
dragons roam

dragons fly aweigh
to lands on maps
filled with children grown
away from home

Hubble captures dragons a way from home
away from children
aweigh in space

children young and old
pass away as dragons fly
where earth aweigh
finds a way
to roam
home 

J Harrington

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November may finally arrive

Our high temperature today was in the low 50s. That’s what’s forecast for tomorrow and Tuesday, then November actually arrives. Normal highs are about ten degrees less than today’s. Starting Wednesday, we’re looking at more seasonable temperatures, or less. It’s not just the precipitation that’s getting volatile.

Most of the leaves are down. Some of the yard is cleaned up. Today was the last day of firearms deer season in our neck of the woods. Last night after dark I was walking the dogs and we were almost run over by three whitetail does who ran out of our field entrance one at a time. The first two sailed over the split rail fence across the road. The third acted like she’d never seen a fence before until she looked at this one for a minute or so and then jumped over. My old lab took it all in stride. The beagle didn’t notice the first two deer but finally got a glimpse of the third one and responded with a “What was that?" spinning in circles. The three may, or may not, be the same three in the picture.

three whitetail does in field behind our house

Photo by J. Harrington

We recently stopped by one of our favorite, local, independent bookstores, which is conveniently located two doors down from one of the food coops of which we’re members. At the bookstore I picked up a replacement copy of Kent Nerburn’s wonderful Neither Wolf nor Dog. We gave away the first version we had and I wanted to reread it so now we have the 25th anniversary edition. If I had remembered we outplaced our copy, I would have bought a replacement when we went to hear Nerburn speak some weeks ago at an art gallery in Sandstone.

Tuesday I’m hoping to head for Birchbark Books to pick up a preordered copy of Robin Wall Kimmerer’s The Serviceberry. I expect to find it verrryy interesting, as Arte Johnson used to say, to read about abundance and reciprocity weeks before a second Trump administration begins. I have major doubts that will do much to enhance abundance for ordinary folks and would truly like to see it experience reciprocity by having others treat it as it treats everyone else.

Next week we celebrate Thanksgiving on Thursday, the 28th, and Native American Heritage Day on Friday the 29th. I hope we all will have something for which we want to give thanks and also will want to do something to honor the heritage to which we owe so much.

History

Linda Hogan

This is the word that is always bleeding.
You didn't think this
until your country changes and when it thunders
you search your own body
for a missing hand or leg.
In one country, there are no bodies shown,
lies are told
and they keep hidden the weeping children on dusty streets.

But I do remember once
a woman and a child in beautiful blue clothing
walking over a dune, spreading a green cloth,
drinking nectar with mint and laughing
beneath a sky of clouds from the river
near the true garden of Eden.
Now another country is breaking
this holy vessel
where stone has old stories
and the fire creates clarity in the eyes of a child
who will turn it to hate one day.

We are so used to it now,
this country where we do not love enough,
that country where they do not love enough,
and that.

We do not need a god by any name
nor do we need to fall to our knees or cover ourselves,
enter a church or a river,
only do we need to remember what we do
to one another, it is so fierce
what any of our fathers may do to a child
what any of our brothers or sisters do to nonbelievers,
how we try to discover who is guilty
by becoming guilty,
because history has continued
to open the veins of the world
more and more
always in its search
for something gold.

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The autumn leaves drift by my window

The local leaves are just about at peak color, sliding past peak any day now as the colors drift down with the leaves. It sure is pretty around here for now. Yesterday I noticed a new dandelion blossom. Today there’s a small cluster of little white flowers. Garter snakes are out and about. I wish they’d feast on more of the mice that keep getting into the house. We must have trapped almost two dozen since last Sunday.

Autumn's silver and gold

Photo by J. Harrington

The Better Half, plus our son, plus me, have all voted early. I wonder how long post November 5 the suspense may continue and how long after that the prospect of violence may hang in the air. Meanwhile, critical global and national issues continue to fester instead of getting the attention deserved and needed. For example, a report issued this past week calls to our attention, inter alia, the following:

Most gravely, while itself a victim of climate change,

the degradation of freshwater ecosystems including

the loss of moisture in the soil has become a driver

of climate change and biodiversity loss. The result

is more frequent and increasingly severe droughts,

floods, heatwaves, and wildfires, playing out across

the globe. And a future of growing water scarcity,

with grave consequences for human security.

Nearly 3 billion people and more than half of the

world’s food production are now in areas where

total water storage is projected to decline.

We’ve seen examples of these issues with recent hurricanes and flooding in major parts of our country. Most Republicans I’ve read about claim climate change is some kind of scam. Of course many of them also continue to incorrectly refer to the 2020 election as “stolen.”

Things got more than a little hectic around the homestead this week, especially today. The Better Half noticed one of the kitchen cabinets needs major repairs. An electrical circuit that, about this time last year,, started tripping the breaker for no reason that we or the electrician could figure out, is doing it again this year. My theory is that mice in the garage are biting into a hot wire because the breaker can be reset after a few hours. Anyhow, I’m tuckered so this posting is short and as sweet as I can make it. More next week.

Neighbors in October

By David Baker

All afternoon his tractor pulls a flat wagon

with bales to the barn, then back to the waiting

chopped field. It trails a feather of smoke.

Down the block we bend with the season:

shoes to polish for a big game,

storm windows to batten or patch.

And how like a field is the whole sky now

that the maples have shed their leaves, too.

It makes us believers—stationed in groups,

leaning on rakes, looking into space. We rub blisters

over billows of leaf smoke. Or stand alone,

bagging gold for the cold days to come.

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Why the kids aren’t alright

 From today’s US edition of The Guardian:

• Extreme heat summit to urge leaders to act on threat from rising temperatures


• ‘Everybody has a breaking point’: how the climate crisis affects our brains


• Sinking US cities increase risk of flooding from rising sea levels


• ‘Tone-deaf’ fossil gas growth in Europe is speeding climate crisis, say activists

COMBINED WITH

• Surge of new US-led oil and gas activity threatens to wreck Paris climate goals

'NUFF  SAID [almost]

Let Them Not Say

Jane Hirshfield
1953 – 

Let them not say:   we did not see it.
We saw.

Let them not say:   we did not hear it.
We heard.

Let them not say:     they did not taste it.
We ate, we trembled.

Let them not say:   it was not spoken, not written.
We spoke,
we witnessed with voices and hands.

Let them not say:     they did nothing.
We did not-enough.

Let them say, as they must say something: 

A kerosene beauty.
It burned.

Let them say we warmed ourselves by it,
read by its light, praised,
and it burned.

—2014

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It’s broke! How should we fix it?

The sound of water dripping down the downspout brightened a gray day today and helped take the edge off this morning's slickery roads. Temperatures are expected to reach the mid-30s this week and mid-40s next. There’s even a tantalizing hint of sunshine arriving next week. It’s not true that I caused this exceptional warm spell by buying a handful of good books to carry me through the rest of the winter. 

early January 2023

Photo by J. Harrington

I know I keep going on about the weather, but the differences between last winter and this one are astounding. As of March 1 last year, we had had the snowiest or second snowiest winter on record. As of today, there is only spotty snow cover in the yard. I wonder if this is an example of the volatility the climate scientists tried to warn US about. Between the vagaries of Congress (still no new farm bill) and those of the climate, I’m glad I’m not a farmer, but then we do depend on some farmers for food, don’t we?

It’s not just the weather and the government that’s become unreliable. Boeing’s planes have become noted for a lack of quality control and safety. In fact, many sectors of the economy, including pharmaceuticals, health care, food, packaging, manufacturing, I could go on, seem to have lost track of the basic concept that it’s not a good idea to imperil your market (you know, the peoplle who buy  your stuff). PFAS or microplastics anyone? How about unsafe levels of nitrates in your water supply?

Perhaps it’s time for US to incorporate a Native American seventh generation principle into our constitution and environmental and economic assessments. We’ve been allowing the corporatocracy to use shorter and shorter time frames and narrower perspectives as they lobby for greater profits. That doesn’t seem to be working out so well as we look about US, does it? Do you suppose AI can solve this one?

Once the World Was Perfect

By Joy Harjo

Once the world was perfect, and we were happy in that world.

Then we took it for granted.

Discontent began a small rumble in the earthly mind.

Then Doubt pushed through with its spiked head.

And once Doubt ruptured the web,

All manner of demon thoughts

Jumped through—

We destroyed the world we had been given

For inspiration, for life—

Each stone of jealousy, each stone

Of fear, greed, envy, and hatred, put out the light.

No one was without a stone in his or her hand.

There we were,

Right back where we had started.

We were bumping into each other

In the dark.

And now we had no place to live, since we didn't know

How to live with each other.

Then one of the stumbling ones took pity on another

And shared a blanket.

A spark of kindness made a light.

The light made an opening in the darkness.

Everyone worked together to make a ladder.

A Wind Clan person climbed out first into the next world,

And then the other clans, the children of those clans, their children,

And their children, all the way through time—

To now, into this morning light to you.

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Nature always bats last!

In our neighborhood, today marks the start of a January thaw. The temperature has climbed above 32℉. It did that yesterday in The Cities (Minneapolis / St. Paul) due, I believe, to their urban heat island. What little snow was left on the deck is almost gone. Sometime in the next few days we’ll take a crack at starting the tractor and seeing if the back blade can be lifted from the frozen ground. I forgot to put a block under the blade when last I parked the tractor and having it available to plow snow increases the likelihood we won’t get much.

The persistent cloud cover may obscure Thursday’s full moon, called the Great Spirit Moon by the Ojibwe and the Hard Times Moon by the Lakota. There was a break in the clouds last night and an almost full moon brightly lit the snow covered back yard. Remember, from that famous visit, “the moon on the crest of the new fallen snow, gave a luster of midday... ?” Come February 4, we’ll have reached the midpoint of winter and from there, technically, will be on our way out. Meteorologically, that may or may not be the case. We’ll see.

Christmas 2023 -- rain

Photo by J. Harrington

To remind you of what a strange winter it’s been around here, the picture above was taken on Christmas. Yes, those are raindrops on the trees, -- in Minnesota, -- at Christmas!! Meanwhile, world governments continue to putz around instead of taking a coordinated, cooperative approach to minimizing greenhouse gas emissions and adapting to the climate changes we’ll be faced with for the next century or more.

If we don’t get a lot of snow, or rain, over the next several weeks, spring flows in local trout streams will probably be less than normal due to lack of snowmelt runoff. I don’t want to speculate about the rest of the  fishing season, since I’m trying to become more optimistic. Voting for Republicans who will focus on denying the existence or the seriousness of climate breakdown should only be done by those who have no descendants, don’t expect to have any, and don’t give a damn about the rest of US.

Let Them Not Say

Jane Hirshfield
1953 – 

Let them not say:   we did not see it.
We saw.

Let them not say:   we did not hear it.
We heard.

Let them not say:     they did not taste it.
We ate, we trembled.

Let them not say:   it was not spoken, not written.
We spoke,
we witnessed with voices and hands.

Let them not say:     they did nothing.
We did not-enough.

Let them say, as they must say something: 

A kerosene beauty.
It burned.

Let them say we warmed ourselves by it,
read by its light, praised,
and it burned.

—2014

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Frank: incensed! Mirth!

This morning’s wind chill was below zero (-3℉), actual temperatures about 12℉. Since none of today’s errands are critical, they’re getting deferred until tomorrow or Wednesday. This kind of unseasonably cold weather makes it hard to stay motivated to respond to “global warming,” especially in a state concerned about abnormal winter warming.

Lest you classify me as a climate change denier, rest assured I’m really only complaining about weather events that stray well below the overall trend. In fact, I’ve noted a remarkable similarity in many of the themes found in Sustainable Happiness and Earth for All: A Survival Guide for Humanity. The idea that surviving our current crises doesn’t need to be a “suck it up,” dreary affair has some surprising appeal, doesn’t it? We simply can’t afford, in any sense of the term, to pursue a business as usual scenario. This holiday season you may want to consider giving a copy of either book, or both, to friends or relatives.

November: full moon

Photo by J. Harrington

Today’s full moon, reflected off the dusting of snow in the driveway this morning, made everything so bright I almost wondered if the garage yard lights had been triggered. According to the Minnesota Weatherguide Calendar,  the Lakota call this full moon the Starting Winter Moon and the Ojibwe know it as the Freezing Moon. Both fit well the current season and weather. We’re less than a month from the shortest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere. In five weeks or so, days will slowly begin to increase and temperatures will lag by several months. May is less than half a year away.

But first, if we’ve been good boys and girls, we get to celebrate a visit from Santa. Christmas is also our son’s birthday, so the holiday ends about noon and the other birthday boy’s celebration takes over. All of which suggests I stop typing this and get to work on lists of who gets what from whom, when. Unlike Santa, I’m my own crew of elves.

Velvet Shoes

Elinor Wylie     1885 – 1928

Let us walk in the white snow
    In a soundless space;
With footsteps quiet and slow,
    At a tranquil pace,
    Under veils of white lace.

I shall go shod in silk,
    And you in wool,
White as white cow’s milk,
    More beautiful
    Than the breast of a gull.

We shall walk through the still town
    In a windless peace;
We shall step upon white down,
    Upon silver fleece,
    Upon softer than these.

We shall walk in velvet shoes:
    Wherever we go
Silence will fall like dews
    On white silence below.
    We shall walk in the snow.

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Presence, practice, presents

The orange pumpkins are gone from the “back yard," presumably consumed by deer. Smaller ponds are once again ice covered, maybe this time to stay until spring, maybe not. Most trees are now not much more than bare, wind-blown branches. The Better Half and I foraged some fresh, leafless, winterberry branches this morning. They look very wabi-sabi like in a ceramic vase on top of a stereo speaker.

We avoided Black Friday and celebrated Buy Nothing Day yesterday. It felt good. There will be presents exchanged at Christmas, but we’ll do our best to avoid seasonal madness in favor of peace, quiet, nature and family. If that seems unpatriotic somehow, please consider this recent headline: World stands on frontline of disaster at Cop28, says UN climate chief.

Christmas cookies: presence making presents

Photo by J. Harrington

Have you every thought about the idea that time spent wishing and working for something new and/or improved is time not spent enjoying what you now have? I had to face that kind of question not long ago when I was reading one of Tom Rosenbauer’s books on fly fishing and he noted something I’ve avoided: “Practice casting no matter what you do.” In younger days, I fished often enough that I didn’t need to practice. Now, not so much. Practicing casting isn’t dependent on buying another rod, reel, line, etc. I’m going through similar adjustment with my sourdough bread baking and my writing. Reading and thinking about things is a start (and helps sell books) but doing something, practicing something, necessitates spending time more than money.

Life Cycle of Common Man

By Howard Nemerov

Roughly figured, this man of moderate habits,

This average consumer of the middle class,

Consumed in the course of his average life span

Just under half a million cigarettes,

Four thousand fifths of gin and about

A quarter as much vermouth; he drank

Maybe a hundred thousand cups of coffee,

And counting his parents’ share it cost

Something like half a million dollars

To put him through life. How many beasts

Died to provide him with meat, belt and shoes

Cannot be certainly said.

                                     But anyhow,

It is in this way that a man travels through time,

Leaving behind him a lengthening trail

Of empty bottles and bones, of broken shoes,

Frayed collars and worn out or outgrown

Diapers and dinnerjackets, silk ties and slickers.

Given the energy and security thus achieved,

He did . . . ? What? The usual things, of course,

The eating, dreaming, drinking and begetting,

And he worked for the money which was to pay

For the eating, et cetera, which were necessary

If he were to go on working for the money, et cetera,

But chiefly he talked. As the bottles and bones

Accumulated behind him, the words proceeded

Steadily from the front of his face as he

Advanced into the silence and made it verbal.

Who can tally the tale of his words? A lifetime

Would barely suffice for their repetition;

If you merely printed all his commas the result

Would be a very large volume, and the number of times

He said “thank you” or “very little sugar, please,”

Would stagger the imagination. There were also

Witticisms, platitudes, and statements beginning

“It seems to me” or “As I always say.”

Consider the courage in all that, and behold the man

Walking into deep silence, with the ectoplastic

Cartoon’s balloon of speech proceeding

Steadily out of the front of his face, the words

Borne along on the breath which is his spirit

Telling the numberless tale of his untold Word

Which makes the world his apple, and forces him to eat.

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A month of several kinds of gales

In recognition of the anniversary of the sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald, please follow this link to read our prior postings on that tragedy. Locally, this week’s winds haven’t reached gale force (39 - 46 mph), but they have been strong enough to strip most of the leaves from the deciduous trees, including many of the oaks. My failure to remember, from year to year, about the gales of November probably means I’m repressing something related to my general distaste of winter.

not quite gale force

Photo by J. Harrington

It’s also hard to contemplate November’s gales when the weather forecast includes the prospect of several days with high temperatures at or near 60℉ next week. Our weather is getting crazier. our politics have followed suite, our governance is rapidly following along (any bets on whether the government will have to shut down in a week?), wars and/or international terrorism attacks are breaking out on several continents, and the international community is failing to adequately respond to climate breakdown and biodiversity losses. There are things for which we can and should be thankful later this month, but the list is getting shorter by the week.

On that shortened list we need to be sure to remember to thank those who have served US in uniform. Tomorrow is officially Veterans Day. We’ll be remembering my father (WWII, Korea) and father-in-law (WWII). Some years ago I learned about a wonderful program that benefits some veterans with an activity close to my heart, Project Healing Waters Fly Fishing, Inc. In recognition of the season’s holidays and the state of the world, you could consider sending them a donation. Living in a world where there is no need for such an organization is a much to be wished for but improbable circumstance. Until then, we all need to do the best we can with what we have and practice being kind(er) to each other.

Not to Keep

Robert Frost     1874 – 1963

They sent him back to her. The letter came
Saying... and she could have him. And before
She could be sure there was no hidden ill
Under the formal writing, he was in her sight—
Living.— They gave him back to her alive—
How else? They are not known to send the dead—
And not disfigured visibly. His face?—
His hands? She had to look—to ask,
“What was it, dear?” And she had given all
And still she had all—they had—they the lucky!
Wasn’t she glad now? Everything seemed won,
And all the rest for them permissible ease.
She had to ask, "What was it, dear?"
                                                               “Enough,
Yet not enough. A bullet through and through,
High in the breast. Nothing but what good care
And medicine and rest—and you a week,
Can cure me of to go again.” The same
Grim giving to do over for them both.
She dared no more than ask him with her eyes
How was it with him for a second trial.
And with his eyes he asked her not to ask.
They had given him back to her, but not to keep. 

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Earth, first?

Today's posting will be short and sort'a sweet and sort'a not so. I’m wishing there was a more positive way to look at a couple of factors listed below, but so far I’ve not figured one out.

Earth, Image Credit: NASA/NOAA/GSFC/Suomi NPP/VIIRS/Norman Kuring

First, please consider the graphics at this link. (The planetary boundaries concept presents a set of nine planetary boundaries within which humanity can continue to develop and thrive for generations to come.) If you understand the concept of a trends extended scenario, it’s fairly easy to see we’re headed in a very wrong direction.

Second, please realize that Limits to Growth was published fifty years ago last year. For the most part, it’s proven to be dismayingly accurate.

Third, last year the book Earth for All was published. An executive summary can be found here. It pretty much picks up where Limits left off. We have two choices as a species and are highly probable to not like the consequences, and may not survive, if we choose wrong and continue business as usual, (Paris Agreement ring a bell?).

On the one hand, I’ll be damned if I can figure out what it would take for world powers to actually address existential issues since, excepting ozone, our track record isn’t great. On the other hand the future isn’t some thing that awaits US, it’s something each of US creates with every one of our daily actions, every single day. In that case, since next month there’s a major effort to get conversations going about how to create a worldwide sustainable economy, I’m going to participate in at least some of those conversations. The Hobson’s Choice is, if I don’t, I forfeit the future to those who fail to value it.

Here’s an invitation to those conversations. Please join US at Systems change, not climate change.

Earth Day

By Jane Yolen

I am the Earth

And the Earth is me.

Each blade of grass,

Each honey tree,

Each bit of mud,

And stick and stone

Is blood and muscle,

Skin and bone.

And just as I

Need every bit

Of me to make

My body fit,

So Earth needs

Grass and stone and tree

And things that grow here

Naturally.

That’s why we

Celebrate this day.

That’s why across

The world we say:

As long as life,

As dear, as free,

I am the Earth

And the Earth is me. 

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Marking transitions

Tomorrow’s high temperature is forecast to be 20℉ cooler than today’s. That isn’t what I consider a reasonable autumnal transition. Of the five decades or so that I’ve lived in Minnesota, I recall one or two, maybe three, spring seasons that were actually spring-like. Most went from snow to mud to 90℉ or thereabouts within a period of a month or so. The transition, when it came, was abrupt. Now the same thing is happening in autumn, which used to be a wonderful season here.

mid-October 2018

Photo by J. Harrington

The reduction of Minnesota’s seasons to little more than winter or summer is one of the reasons my interest in druidry has grown. One of the pillars of which is that:

For the ancient Celts there were only two seasons; summer and winter, or the light half of the year and the dark half of the year. The dark half began at Samhain or as it is known in modern times “Halloween” or “All Souls Day” while the light half began at Beltaine or as it is known in modern times “May Day”. These two festivals were the holiest days of the Celtic year, acting as portals between dark and light, between one state of existence and another. They were times of chaos and change when Spirits were said to move freely between the worlds and communication with dead ancestors was most easily achieved.

According to events in Washington, D.C., and elsewhere, we appear to be again (still?) in a time of chaos. As this is written, it remains to be seen if McCarthy will hold the speakership, if not, who might replace him, and how all of that may affect the vote(s) during the next a month on funding the federal government for next fiscal year.

Meanwhile, the number of significant labor strikes continues to grow, affecting autos, health care, entertainment and, possibly, other sectors. Paying multiple executives in the millions makes it tough to claim, with credibility, an inability to pay comparable increases to workers and to provide adequate staffing to get the job(s) done. Somehow, I’m dubious Artificial Intelligence will resolve many of these issues.

And then there’s the question of whether the 2024 Republican nominee for POTUS will actually be a convicted criminal, and, if not, who the nominee might be. Maybe simplifying to two seasons will provide US with the breathing room and simplicity we need to get through our current times to something slightly saner.

The Second Coming

By William Butler Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre   

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere   

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst   

Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.   

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out   

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert   

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,   

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,   

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it   

Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.   

The darkness drops again; but now I know   

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,   

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,   

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

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Let me draw you a picture

 Today I’m going to let you draw your own conclusions and hope, unrealistically, for the best.

Earth ‘well outside safe operating space for humanity’, scientists find

planetary boundaries over time

Meanwhile, in our nation and it's capital:

• Why are Republicans launching Biden impeachment inquiry and what’s next?


• What Republicans are doing to Wisconsin is a warning sign to all Americans


• Democrats need to realize that there is no alternative to Biden – and buck up

Fortunately, there’s also:

• Doughnut Economics and DEAL


• Center for the Advancement of a Steady State Economy

Plus, many other sane and credible organizations working to help the world continue to be a place where humans can both survive and thrive. The choice is ours, for now.

On the Fifth Day

by Jane Hirshfield

On the fifth day
the scientists who studied the rivers
were forbidden to speak
or to study the rivers.

The scientists who studied the air
were told not to speak of the air,
and the ones who worked for the farmers
were silenced,
and the ones who worked for the bees.

Someone, from deep in the Badlands,
began posting facts.

The facts were told not to speak
and were taken away.
The facts, surprised to be taken, were silent.

Now it was only the rivers
that spoke of the rivers,
and only the wind that spoke of its bees,

while the unpausing factual buds of the fruit trees
continued to move toward their fruit.

The silence spoke loudly of silence,
and the rivers kept speaking
of rivers, of boulders and air.

Bound to gravity, earless and tongueless,
the untested rivers kept speaking.

Bus drivers, shelf stockers,
code writers, machinists, accountants,
lab techs, cellists kept speaking.

They spoke, the fifth day,
of silence.

—2017

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Pondering the imponderable

Tonight’s frost advisories end one county north of us. Yesterday, I turned the furnace on for the first time this season. The outside temperatures had dropped below 50℉ when I did it. Soon it will be time to break out the fleece-lined winter pjs. Autumn is settling in.

frost: it’s coming

Photo by J. Harrington

A year from now we’ll be approaching election 2024. Do you suppose the question of whether The Former Guy is eligible to be listed on a ballot will be resolved by then? I’m annoyed that Minnesota’s SOS, Steve Simon, has deferred to the courts the decision on ballot eligibility. (I’m not suggesting he’s incorrect, given the state law, just that I find it annoying that a SOS doesn’t have to first make a determination that can then be reviewed by the court system.) The presidential election section of the office’s web site avoids mention of Sec. 3 of the 14th Amendment to the Constitution as an eligibility requirement. At least some Minnesotans have now petitioned the Minnesota Supreme Court for a ruling. Will all or any of the individual state cases get to SCOTUS before the election? Will it make any difference? Stay turned! Isn’t it fun to live in unprecedented presidential times?

Meanwhile, our federal Secretary of Energy is doing a great job of demonstrating why it is that we can’t just rapidly “phase out” fossil fuels, as an author of a recent report suggests. I haven’t read even the summaries of the IPCC reports, so I may have missed it but I don’t recall ever seeing a summary of the staging and development of alternative energy systems needed to enable the phase out of fossil fuels without crippling the world economy and bringing any transition to a premature halt. The lack of systems planning and the failure to create alternate scenarios as education and communication strategies seems to be a significant oversight. Al Gore was absolutely correct about the fact that effectively responding to climate breakdown and its effects means we have to deal with a lot of inconvenient truths. Instead, the Republicans are beginning a fool’s exercise in opening impeachment proceedings against President Biden. Do you know the title of the movie about our two political parties? How about “Dumb and Dumber?” 

Statement on Energy Policy

By Carter Revard

It’s true we have invented quark-extraction,

and this allows our aiming gravity at will;

it’s true also that time

can now be made to flow

backward or forward by

the same process. It may be true as well that

what is happening at the focal point,

the meristem of this process,

creates a future kind of space,

a tiny universe that has

quite different rules. In this, it seems,

whatever one may choose to do or be becomes

at once the case. In short,

we have discovered heaven and

it’s in our grasp. However,

the Patent Office has not yet approved and cites

less positive aspects of this invention. First, it

does not generate profit, and

it does make obsolete all present

delivery systems for our nukes. Then,

it will let private citizens do things that only

a chosen few, that is, OUR sort, should be allowed—

fly freely from one country

to any other, spreading diseases

and bankrupting transportation.

Home-heating, auto-making industries will be trashed,

employment shelled, depressions spread worldwide,

sheer anarchy descend.

For these and other reasons,

no one must know of this. . . .

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Person, party, country: which first?

In a country with only two major political parties, we have little, if any, bench strength in our political leadership. Why is that? Does anyone other than the current occupant of the White House have the combined name recognition and socioeconomic characteristics to replace Joe Biden on the 2024 ballot if, heaven forbid, he fell over dead tomorrow? Does anyone really believe that any of the miscreant Republican candidates could win the popular vote for president in 2024 unless they finagled voter suppression, fraud, and smoke and mirrors? Is this any way to run a country that’s supposed to be the world’s leading democracy? In football, it might be okay in sports to claim that “Winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing.” It doesn’t work out as well in politics.

I’m still reading Founding Gardeners. It has me convinced that there were differences of opinion among our country’s founders (agrarian versus mercantilist) at least as strong as almost any differences today between Democrats and Republicans. But, before the Civill War, there was also a prevailing willingness to put the interest of the country ahead of the party. We seem to have misplaced almost all of that over the past 150 or so years.

To be clear, I’m not referring to the presidential line of succession. I’m wondering why there aren’t more qualified, popular candidates in both parties so that, every four, or eight, years we’re not faced with a series of “yeah, but” decisions. A recent news article flagged substantial issues of concern among voters of both parties. I would like to think we can field stronger teams on both sides, so the challenge becomes voting for the best, rather than the least worst. Returning to founding gardener metaphors, perhaps our politics, and political parties, need better quality manure to produce better candidates?

I believe it was Bill Clinton who emphasized the theme “It’s the Economy, stupid.” These days, I’d say the operative phrase is “It’s the stupid system, stupid!” 

Joan Baez - The President Sang Amazing Grace Lyrics

A young man came to a house of prayer
They did not ask what brought him there
He was not friend, he was not kin
But they opened the door and let him in

And for an hour the stranger stayed
He sat with them and seemed to pray
But then the young man drew a gun
And killed nine people, old and young

In Charleston in the month of June
The mourners gathered in a room
The President came to speak some words
And the cameras rolled and the nation heard

But no words could say what must be said
For all the living and the dead
So on that day and in that place
The President sang Amazing Grace
The President sang Amazing Grace

We argued where to lay the blame
On one man's hate or our nation's shame
Some sickness of the mind or soul
And how the wounds might be made whole

But no words could say what must be said
For all the living and the dead
So on that day and in that place
The President sang Amazing Grace
My President sang Amazing Grace

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What flower is this, I aster!

The other day, the Better Half observed that roadside asters had come into bloom. What she was referring to were shorter, with smaller flowers, than the asters I recall seeing along that particular road. I didn’t get out to check at the time, but neither did I take the photos I wanted of the wetland across the  road. Either I’ve been busy or it’s been cloudy enough that I’ve not bothered to grab the camera that wasn’t in the jeep to return to the scene. Maybe tomorrow? 

Sky-blue Aster (Symphyotrichum oolentangiense)

Photo by J. Harrington

The scene in reference is another wetland full of the yellow wildflowers we reported on a week or ten days ago. This one is about as far north of the house as the other one is south of us. I think a combination of later bloom and different travel patterns kept us from noticing the northern outburst until a week or ten days after the southern location’s bloom burst. 

I’m coming more and more to the conclusion that this summer’s drought has dried the wetlands enough to allow for the explosion of yellow flowers. We’ve been trying to identify them and believe they’re some variant of sunflower. The Better Half has been leaning toward Woodland Sunflower (Helianthus strumosus) while I’ve been pondering the possibility they’re Jerusalem Artichokes. Then we came across this information on the woodland sunflower page in Minnesota Willdflowers: "Woodland Sunflower hybridizes with both Hairy Sunflower and Jerusalem Artichoke (Helianthus tuberosus), which makes an ID even more challenging.” So, we’ve settled on some sort of sunflower hybrids. That’s an improvement over “pretty yellow flower on a tall stalk.”

Joy

By Stuart Kestenbaum

The asters shake from stem to flower

waiting for the monarchs to alight.

Every butterfly knows that the end

is different from the beginning

and that it is always a part

of a longer story, in which we are always

transformed. When it's time to fly,

you know how, just the way you knew

how to breathe, just the way the air

knew to find its way into your lungs,

the way the geese know when to depart,

the way their wings know how to

speak to the wind, a partnership of feather

and glide, lifting into the blue dream.

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