It took me awhile to realize why I was reading all those novels and stories by Ursula LeGuin. They so often feature these supremely lonely interplanetary travelers, folks who have gone to sleep to traverse the light years between their starting place and their destination. Their families live and die while they are in suspended animation, so that if they return, their loved ones are no longer there, and the culture has moved on.
The lives of these travelers are lonely, but not friendless, for they find companions in the worlds they visit, even love. What they do not encounter is anyone who is truly their own kind. They are outsiders, bringing and outsider view to the places they visit. Often they are under instructions to interfere only with great care in what is going on where they have landed. They might promote women's rights, for instance. Or introduce some new technology. Or stop the progress of a rogue colonizer. But only after careful study of the culture, and with the intention of doing it in a culturally appropriate way. Or in the case of the rogue colonizer, to excise the unauthorized alien presence cleanly.
So yes, I was reading these novels and stories in September and October, feeling drawn to them. Because... it's so much like interim ministry! I'll be walking among the people of this planet, joining in their culture, working alongside them, carefully introducing possibilities by working with the list of interim tasks. Making friends. Finding my usual sources of entertainment in whatever form they are available, and discovering others from among what is preferred locally. (The yoga is not quite the same on this planet, but satisfying. The country dance is a little different. They have a lively program of plays they put on for one another's entertainment.) The Emissary is welcome, and invited to partake, yet always bound by the rules of the Ekumen about what the boundaries must be.
I have chosen this metaphorical interplanetary travel, or rather, it has chosen me, drawing me to this outpost now and another one soon, bearing news from the Ekumen and interpreting it to the people here. This outpost welcomes the Emissary warmly, but I know there are other planets where the Ekumen is seen as the problem rather than as part of the solution. Will I travel to those as well? How might the mission be different?
I am grateful to Ursula LeGuin for her heroes, the lonely observers who enter into relationships and make carefully planned moves that might change things. They, along with my actual colleagues in this work, light the way.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Notes from the Hermitage
Living in this little space, cosy and comfortable in a basic sort of way. I thought when I started that I would learn a lot, and this is a report on what I am learning.
Living in a small, well-insulated space, I'm quite sure I am reducing my carbon footprint. Living so close to work that I don't have to drive, ditto. I can and do walk to yoga and food shopping and the doctor's office. But I drive long distances to see friends and have professional meetings. So far, one airplane trip, but it was all the way to the West Coast. Probably wiped out all the savings.
But the point is that living in a small space is having an impact on the way I live. There is no way to have a selection of places to leave piles of books or papers related to a variety of projects. Everything has to be put away every time, or it makes gridlock. I rely more on electronic files, and have gotten more paranoid about making sure they are backed up. No space for paper files.
I seem to have too many clothes, since the closets of my little place are full. And yes, there are still some things that are not being used, so they could be released into the possibility of other uses -- given to Goodwill. Everything must be put back in the closets, because there are no extra chairs on which to drape clothing that is between wearings. Clean enough to put away, or dirty enough to wash? There is no middle ground. I am not used to being so decisive about this matter.
And clearly, I have too many dishes, because they overflow the sink before I get around to washing them. Actually, it's the same as with the clothes -- everything must be used regularly to justify its place on the shelves, and it all needs to be put away soon after using. If they are in the sink, it's a very, very, short time until nothing can be done in the kitchen. And I can't (and don't really want to)eat out all the time!
I am tyrannized by the flow of material through my life. Everything must be disposed of right away -- trash in the trash bin, garbage in the mouse-and-skunk-proof frozen storage, recycling in the assortment of bins and bags in the back/front hall. The Sunday New York Times is more than enough newspaper -- I'm really surprised with myself not to have started a daily newspaper subscription. I don't even get the weekly Belfast paper, which would give me a lot of information not available elsewhere. But the packaging! Food and other things come wrapped in so much material that is otherwise useless, and I have no room to store it! Buying things with no wrapping is really appealing.
This is all very good for me, I think but let me warn you all: living in a smaller space will change you in ways you don't expect.
I think of someone I once knew who had been for a long time in the submarine service. Living alone, he found it hard to take up enough space to fill up a one-bedroom apartment. I think of people who really are monks. Of the young man who had been part of a household I joined when I went to seminary. When he finished his time helping in the world and was ready to go back to the monastery, he put his things into a backpack and left.
I suspect this sort of thing is not going to be great for the consumer economy. Maybe it will be great for those of us doing it. I wonder...
Living in a small, well-insulated space, I'm quite sure I am reducing my carbon footprint. Living so close to work that I don't have to drive, ditto. I can and do walk to yoga and food shopping and the doctor's office. But I drive long distances to see friends and have professional meetings. So far, one airplane trip, but it was all the way to the West Coast. Probably wiped out all the savings.
But the point is that living in a small space is having an impact on the way I live. There is no way to have a selection of places to leave piles of books or papers related to a variety of projects. Everything has to be put away every time, or it makes gridlock. I rely more on electronic files, and have gotten more paranoid about making sure they are backed up. No space for paper files.
I seem to have too many clothes, since the closets of my little place are full. And yes, there are still some things that are not being used, so they could be released into the possibility of other uses -- given to Goodwill. Everything must be put back in the closets, because there are no extra chairs on which to drape clothing that is between wearings. Clean enough to put away, or dirty enough to wash? There is no middle ground. I am not used to being so decisive about this matter.
And clearly, I have too many dishes, because they overflow the sink before I get around to washing them. Actually, it's the same as with the clothes -- everything must be used regularly to justify its place on the shelves, and it all needs to be put away soon after using. If they are in the sink, it's a very, very, short time until nothing can be done in the kitchen. And I can't (and don't really want to)eat out all the time!
I am tyrannized by the flow of material through my life. Everything must be disposed of right away -- trash in the trash bin, garbage in the mouse-and-skunk-proof frozen storage, recycling in the assortment of bins and bags in the back/front hall. The Sunday New York Times is more than enough newspaper -- I'm really surprised with myself not to have started a daily newspaper subscription. I don't even get the weekly Belfast paper, which would give me a lot of information not available elsewhere. But the packaging! Food and other things come wrapped in so much material that is otherwise useless, and I have no room to store it! Buying things with no wrapping is really appealing.
This is all very good for me, I think but let me warn you all: living in a smaller space will change you in ways you don't expect.
I think of someone I once knew who had been for a long time in the submarine service. Living alone, he found it hard to take up enough space to fill up a one-bedroom apartment. I think of people who really are monks. Of the young man who had been part of a household I joined when I went to seminary. When he finished his time helping in the world and was ready to go back to the monastery, he put his things into a backpack and left.
I suspect this sort of thing is not going to be great for the consumer economy. Maybe it will be great for those of us doing it. I wonder...
Monday, November 2, 2009
When it is all connected consciously
I reflected on Michael Pollan's story in The Omnivore's Dilemma, the one about the farm in Virginia where everything is interconnected in complex and important ways to produce happy, healthy animals in a sustainable way. There are probably many ways to build farms that interlink the care of the land (and the planet) with the feeding of humans, and this is but one example.
What struck me was that while the farm's chickens were very much in demand, it was not possible to respond to the market signal of rising price by shifting production more toward chickens. Everything on the farm was interconnected in more or less fixed proportions, so more of one thing really meant expanding the whole operation, possibly producing more of some other products that were not in high demand.
Imagining a town surrounded by farms engaged in sustainable agriculture of this type, I began to think, well, the people in the town would have to sort of want what they have, except when there was a chance to start up a whole new complex of farm operations with a whole new mix of products.
It might not be bad at all, but it is really very different from a system where more demand calls forth more production, that is, the market system.
We could settle into wanting what we have, enjoying a lifestyle that would gradually evolve into being traditional, getting to know one another, talking things over, exploring possible changes together, and allowing things to shift ever so slowly with changes in taste or knowledge of nutrition or requirements of climate change.
Living here in the small town of Belfast, Maine, the sense that this could happen is very real. It would not be a market system. What would it be? And how would it respond to changing wants and shifting conditions of production? Probably it would be good to explore the answers to these questions by allowing that kind of agriculture to grow up around our small towns. Something post-industrial might emerge, carrying with it some of the pre-industrial, for good or ill.
I suspect that values have a lot to do with how it might evolve, so naturally, I want Unitarian Universalists to be right there helping it happen. Will we do it?
What struck me was that while the farm's chickens were very much in demand, it was not possible to respond to the market signal of rising price by shifting production more toward chickens. Everything on the farm was interconnected in more or less fixed proportions, so more of one thing really meant expanding the whole operation, possibly producing more of some other products that were not in high demand.
Imagining a town surrounded by farms engaged in sustainable agriculture of this type, I began to think, well, the people in the town would have to sort of want what they have, except when there was a chance to start up a whole new complex of farm operations with a whole new mix of products.
It might not be bad at all, but it is really very different from a system where more demand calls forth more production, that is, the market system.
We could settle into wanting what we have, enjoying a lifestyle that would gradually evolve into being traditional, getting to know one another, talking things over, exploring possible changes together, and allowing things to shift ever so slowly with changes in taste or knowledge of nutrition or requirements of climate change.
Living here in the small town of Belfast, Maine, the sense that this could happen is very real. It would not be a market system. What would it be? And how would it respond to changing wants and shifting conditions of production? Probably it would be good to explore the answers to these questions by allowing that kind of agriculture to grow up around our small towns. Something post-industrial might emerge, carrying with it some of the pre-industrial, for good or ill.
I suspect that values have a lot to do with how it might evolve, so naturally, I want Unitarian Universalists to be right there helping it happen. Will we do it?
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