Breaking Ground

I had previously begun to spin an old online journal into what I hope this will become, but I feel it best to make a fresh start here...

So a little background shall be a necessity.

Firstly I am predisposed to worry, to a clinical degree in fact. I believe this is an inherited trait from my mother. My desire to become more independent in terms of lifestyle (food primarily) is born from what I originally believed to be just another attack of anxiety about the state of the world. I have come to the conclusion that my anxious disposition may in fact be an asset. Anxious people are sensitive people, sensitive people are observant people.

I notice things, things that don't make sense to me. Why do we depend on food that has to be altered on a genetic basis. Havent thousands of years of stewardship over crops shown us what stock is most effective in what areas? Why do we depend on methods which by their very nature destroy the thing we depend on. Food is less and less nutritious, and we eat more and more of it. As the old programmer's adage goes, garbage in, garbage out.

As Newton so rightly pointed out however: An object at rest will continue to remain at rest until acted upon by an outside force.

For me the outside force was more inside. The more I worried the more I investigated, the more I investigated the more I worried. Eventually I conceded that I could sit and continue to worry, or stand up and do something.

The second key element never really clicked with me until this morning. Like most Americans I have spent my young adult life trying to prove to myself that I am not like my parents. Eventually the clues started leaking under the door. The memories of our meager attempt at gardening trickled back 25 or so years later after the fact. The taste of my Grandfather's tomatos, every year, fat, bright, juicy, and unlike anything from the shelves. His homemade biscuits that seemed to float off the plate. My dad hand tooling leather purses to sell at craft fairs, making beautiful pieces of furniture that to this day shame whatever mass produced pile of tinder that might be available in stores. My mom sewing.

If anyone is familiar with the Dune series by Frank Herbert, one of the key aspects of the heros is their ability to recall perfectly the memories of their ancestors. I don't think Herbert was far off. We may not inherit the memories of our ancestors but a part of us feels the draw to continue their labors. Something beyond the sense of accomplishment that comes from sitting at a table you built, eating food you grew and prepared. A sense of continuation.

A sense of connection. There can be no doubt that we are more plugged in than ever before, but I posit that we are more disconnected as well. Disconnected from our government, from our neighbors, from our sources of energy, our gods, our food, and ourselves.

We are no longer a human being, but a list of diagnosises. A pill for this and that and the symptoms go away, but the disease remains.

We don't eat food anymore, we eat a list of nutrients that someone else tells us is right. Carbs, trans fats, antioxidents, and so on, we avoid what is bad and binge on what is good, ignoring the shell game of labeling that keeps us filling our bodies with the things with the things which put us in this mess in the first place.

"Living healthy costs too much, growing your own food is too much work, takes too much land. All this stuff is nice in theory, but in practice..."

Its an upstream swim, but I'm familiar with that act.

I lack knowlege, I lack experience, but I have inspiration and help from those who have gone before me.


I'll conclude this with a dose of realism. I can change myself, but I am not an island,I have a wife and two young children, and I am not a very convincing person.

How do I gently pull them into the stream too without drowning us all?