I Just learned about a black flightless beetle that lives in a canyon west of Fresno. This canyon is the only place it lives. There are no other isolated remnants or small populations anywhere else in the world. This beetle’s existence is spent rummaging through wild grasses and fallen oak leaves looking for small insects to eat, in a small corner of the world occupying only a few square miles.
As an entomologist, this sort of discovery interests me a great deal. I get excited about finding small creatures in unexpected places. In fact I have spent over three decades doing just that. And one of the things that I have come to appreciate about life on this planet is that it is local. I don’t mean that animals and plants can’t occupy large areas. Of course they can - and they do. But when we find them in their preferred habitat it is in a specific place.
Take mountain lions, for example. They occur throughout Western North America (as well as Florida) and in parts of Central and South America. They have the widest distribution of any wild cat species in the world. Even so, how many wild mountain lions have you seen in your life? Even if you get into the mountains a lot, it is more than likely that you have never seen one. In the many years and countless ventures that I have made into cougar country I have only seen one. It was at tree line in the John Muir Wilderness and the experience was awe-inspiring. I will never forget it.
A fact I wish to consider is a simple one: the species of the Creation have geographical and ecological limits. Scientists may outline detailed distribution maps and theoretical species ranges but if you ever hope to see a specific one, you need to find the right habitat.
Years ago I traveled through most of the Western United States collecting small click beetles that live on the ground between small plants and cobbles near streams and rivers. I got to the point that I could predict, with a high degree of accuracy, which places would harbor these insects and which would not. It all depended on recognizing the type of habitat and understanding the requirements of the insects. Others thought I had a sixth sense about these things but mostly it came from a lot of experience.
The Bible and the Doctrine and Covenants indicate that living things were meant to fill the measure of their creation. What does this mean exactly? Perhaps it means that living things are meant to propagate their own kind. I think it also means that living things are meant to fill a particular niche. This may seem a bit awkward - combining Genesis with ecology. But the truth is that the created order was made with intricate and sophisticated care. And so I think that filling the measure of creation means, in part, that living things enjoy the places they were created to enjoy.
But there is more - something quite significant that we usually fail to consider: we ourselves are products of particular places. This may sound like an evolutionary argument. It is not. It is an argument much older than Darwin that considers humanity and other species to be intricately woven into the very nature of the cosmos. Just as a diamond forms when certain conditions of carbon, heat, pressure and time prevail - so we are inevitable when the proper conditions prevail. The cosmos was created (or has always existed) for us.
This was the thinking of Aristotle and of the Medieval schoolmen who saw nature as a great scale of being, where form and function were all important evidence of this cosmic design. Since Darwin this understanding has been enlarged by D’arcy Wentworth Thompson (in his On Growth and Form first published in 1942) and more recently by Michael Denton (in Nature’s Destiny).
Thompson’s volume runs to over a thousand pages filled with example after example of how growth and form conform to an inevitable nature of life. “Still, all the while, like warp and woof, mechanism and teleology are interwoven together, and we must not cleave to the one nor despise the other; for their union is rooted in the very nature of totality.”
Denton’s insights stem from his research on the formation of red blood cells which he sees as epigenetic products. What he means by this is that the sum total of the genes involved are no where near sufficient, by themselves, to create red blood cells. They do create the required proteins but these proteins are essentially left on their own to continue the cascade of interconnected parts and processes that ultimately lead to a red blood cell. Denton argues that a similar situation exists for most (if not all) of the body’s processes.
“I am now quite convinced,” writes Denton, “that the discovery that protein folds are natural forms is only the beginning of what may turn out to be a major Platonic revision of biology, and an eventual relocation of biological order away from genes and mechanism and back into nature – where it resided before the Darwinian revolution.”
This perspective understands life as a physically necessary outcome of the created order. But if this is so, how do we explain the great diversity among individuals of a given species. Why, for example, do we all look so different?
Here the answer seems to be that we have built in to our genetic make-up an ability to adapt to changing environmental conditions. It is a necessary part of inter-generational survival. This is how the Eskimo have become so different from the Kalahari bushmen - even though both are very human.
This is the Darwinian process of natural selection but I believe that it is much more restricted than Darwin (or his modern acolytes have) imagined. This ability to adapt is a process of joining us to a particular place. It is not a process of generating new species.
What I wish to make clear is that we are a part of the eternal order. And we are also part of the places our forefathers lived. We are both eternally intended and locally derived.
This should all be obvious but it seems that the decades of toiling against a materialistic (Darwinian) counter culture has inured many of us to the realities of place. The religious among us have been defining our natures in heavenly terms even as we discount the fallen physical world we now inhabit. This is a mistake. Who we are has much to do with where we live - both now and in the future.
Yet there is more, I think a lot more, to filling the measure of creation. In our fallen world, for example, most living things are kept from growing in to their full potential. We see this when we notice a beautiful maple tree or dogwood in full bloom in our neighbor’s yard. With proper care these impressive trees become fuller, healthier, and much more attractive than the same kinds of trees growing wild in the forest. It is really remarkable what a capable gardener can do. Yet the sad implication is that there is potential in living things that never gets realized because there is no master gardener to bring it out.
How can anything fill the measure of its creation that fails to realize its own potential? I don’t think it can. The sad reality is that in our fallen world, very few opportunities exist for any individual of any species (humans included) to live to its potential. Consider the tangled bank of a stream (to use Darwin’s famous example) containing hundreds of plants all competing with each other for space, for limited nutrients and for light. Most of the individuals in this habitat will be small and undernourished as they get pushed aside by a few dominant individuals.
Our competitive world is much the same. And just as no exceptions are made in a tangled bank for pretty flowers, tasty herbs, or healthy crops - hardly any exceptions are made for us either. Competition and a harsh world are the main things that count - and it’s the weeds that do the best.
Occasionally a seed will land in an opportune spot and develop fully. But this is an exception. For the rest of us there is really only one way to reach our potential: get planted in a garden.
Before there was “nature red in tooth and claw” there was a garden. Before our ancestors had to deal with weeds there was a garden. Before we had to deal with all the burdens of a fallen world there was a garden.
According to sacred literature plants and animals (even humans) once lived in a place of achievable potential. Not only did they live there, but this garden was prior to the world we experience here. Prior, that is, because it represents the true state of things. The Creation, after all, was made to reach the measure of its creation.
And yet here we are - living lives that find us less than we should be - living with other species living less than they can be. And the inevitable question becomes quite simply: how can we learn to garden?
A very big clue from the natural world is that a garden respects the reality of place. The stones, streams, trees, or any number of other native elements are all used. The goal is to keep things real - and remember, a garden is real. In fact our garden is more real than its fallen counterpart. It represents our true potential.
Another important part of a garden is the gardener. But not any hired hand will do. A gardener that knows the potential of his garden is rare indeed. In fact such a person does not exist in a fallen world of limited perspective - at least we can’t see Him. A hired hand may learn useful things. He may learn how to prune roses, or that blueberries prefer pine mulches, or that impatiens want just the right amount of sun. But how does he plan for the unexpected disease, for fires, or for the vagrant rabbit let in through the open gate?
Clearly, no hired hand will do. But all is not lost. We may not live in our garden yet but we can work on it even so. We can learn to love a place and learn the needs of its living things – even discovering that some places are meant for us as a land of our inheritance. This created order was meant to be diverse and sustainable. It is also a place where it is possible for us to thrive if we can learn to live as we were meant to live. And when we get proficient at this we can start to understand ourselves a little better and the true nature of our potential. Of course we may need a little help from somebody who knows more about this than we do. But the inklings are there. And who’s to say that we can’t learn to garden with His help?
References:
Denton, Michael J. 2004. An Anti-Darwinian Intellectual Journey; in, William A. Dembski ed. Uncommon Dissent, Intellectuals who find Darwinism Unconvincing. ISI Books, Wilmington, DE. Denton’s quote is on page 174.
Denton, Michael J. 1998. Nature’s Destiny, How the Laws of Biology Reveal Purpose in the Universe. The Free Press.
Thompson, D’Arcy W. 1992. On Growth and Form. Dover Publications Inc., New York. Quotation is from page 7.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Cardo and Credo
Have you ever set your heart on something so much that it changed your life? Maybe you learned for the first time that compounding interest can make you money - if you could just control your spending. Maybe you learned that home-grown vegetables taste a lot better than grocery store vegetables. Maybe you discovered that turning off the TV and talking with your family is a great thing to do.
Some ideas come into our heads and make such an impression that we are willing to do something about them. It may be that we start to save money, grow a garden, or communicate better. Or it might be something else entirely. Whatever the impression may be it involves a thought, a heart-felt desire, and a planned effort.
This is nothing new, what might come as a surprise is that the heart-felt desire is just another way of saying something that we have been misunderstanding for years - even centuries. In a religious sense this heartfelt desire is what we used to mean by the word faith.
This is easier to see if you know Latin. Take the word cardiologist, for example. Most of us recognize that this is a scientist or a doctor who works on the heart. Cardo, of course, means heart in Latin. It isn’t hard to see the similarity of this word with the Latin credo, which means faith. Our English word creed is also derived from credo. These two words, cardo and credo (heart and faith) come from the same place.
This is clearly a different understanding of faith than a mere passive belief in something. We may have a lot of ideas or rational beliefs about many things. But faith doesn’t happen until we set our hearts on one of them.
This relationship of faith and heartfelt desire is seen in the Book of Heleman (Chapter 3:34 - in the Book of Mormon):
“Nevertheless they did … [wax]… firmer and firmer in their faith of Christ, unto the filling their souls with joy and consolation, yea, even to the purifying and the sanctification of their hearts, which sanctification cometh because of their yielding their hearts unto god.”
This understanding of faith may not be one that you have heard about before - and justifiably so. You won’t find it as a definition in any standard dictionary - at least not directly. But the earlier meaning is still there and occasionally comes through in certain words and phrases.
The most obvious are the words faithful and fidelity. These words convey a sense of being true but we use them about people we love. We are faithful to our spouse because of love. We demonstrate fidelity for the same reason. Simply put, faith is a virtue of the heart - not so much a virtue of the mind. If we have faith in someone, we have heartfelt feelings for them. Similarly, a true faith in Christ is not restricted to a simple rational belief in Him. It means that we love Him.
Consider all the references in the Old Testament to God’s jealousy. They often seem a bit odd. After all, jealousy is not a virtue and admitting that a supreme being could be guilty of this human frailty just doesn’t seem right.
But jealousy exists because love exists and the commandment to love God is the same thing as the commandment to have faith in Him. Unfortunately faith has lost much of this meaning. Today most of us think that faith just means believing - and this is doubly misleading. It’s misleading because the meaning of the word belief has itself changed. It also used to refer to setting one’s heart on something. Belief just like faith was all about the heart and not so much the mind.
This is obvious in German where I love you is expressed as Ich liebe dich. Love is liebe and comes from the same place as the lieve in our believe. The relationship is even more obvious in the old English verb belove.
This is significant. It is certainly more important than a mere academic insight. It changes the way we engage in public discourse about faith.
For example, today we often hear about people lacking faith or who don’t believe in God. Some of these people are professed atheists or hesitant agnostics. Their unbelief is a rational decision. Anciently this sort of thing was unthinkable.
Before modern times, God’s existence wasn’t questioned by anybody. What might be questioned was one’s devotion to Him. The first commandment is not to believe that God exists. It is to put no other gods before Him. In the New Testament, the Apostle James (in James 2:19) admits that it isn’t all that big of a deal to just acknowledge the existence of god. After all, even the devils acknowledge Him and tremble.
One of the most significant effects that atheism has had in recent times is to move the focus of faith from devotion to rational discourse. It has not only clouded our own religious lives, it has compromised our understanding of religious history.
Take the Reformation as an example, and the way we have interpreted it today. Viewed with a cardo and credo perspective, things are not the way we often make them out to be. The Reformation’s interpretation of faith in the New Testament is particularly informative.
Paul clearly taught that we are saved by faith. But he was also keen to point out the importance of living one’s faith. That this faith is grounded in cardo is quite clear in the Gospel of John where the bulk of the references to pisteuo (meaning faith or belief) are found. In fact there are almost as many references to pisteuo in John as in the three synoptic gospels combined.
And the way John uses the word faith is important too. Very often it is used as a verb and is focused on a person. John wanted us to have faith in Jesus Christ. It’s no mere coincidence that John is also the New Testament author keenest on love and the Holy Ghost. It is essentially impossible to read John without capturing a sense that faith in Christ is no faith at all if it excludes a heartfelt determination to follow Him.
Now fast-forward several hundred years to Medieval Europe. Martin Luther insists on sola fide (on faith alone) as the way of salvation. He sees parallels between the hypocrisy of Pharisaic rules and strict Catholicism and sees an unbridgeable gulf between this formalism and simple faith in Christ. But faith in 16th Century Europe is still grounded, at least in part, in cardo. There is an element of credo too and this nuance needs to be appreciated in our histories more than it has been.
Salvation through faith alone is one thing if we mean that salvation comes to those who rationally acknowledge Jesus to have been the Son of God. It is a very different thing altogether when it means that salvation comes to those who love God with all their heart, might, mind and strength. The former can be practically anybody - including insincere speculators. The later are true heirs of salvation. For this group there is no difference between faith and the first commandment.
But now fast-forward to the 21st Century. Our understanding of faith is almost always far removed from any sense of cardo. Those who profess faith very often feel obligated to justify their lack of knowledge in the next breath - as if faith and knowledge were somehow incompatible.
Here it is worth noticing the important distinction between knowing someone (for example the Spanish conocer) and knowing something (Spanish saber). Knowing things is the hallmark of our technological world. It is a world of facts. Ironically it is also a world of constantly changing certainties and perspectives. This is not the kind of knowledge on which one places a foundational faith.
Knowing people and human motivation, however, is different, especially as it involves an understanding of human nature and the reality of good and evil. Such knowledge can be existential. This is the kind of knowledge that one can rely on if, in fact, the person relied upon is faithful - is trustworthy. This is a knowledge that is based in faith.
Suppose, for example, a new corporate executive requires one of her VP’s to close a deal in Las Vegas. She sends the man with the most experience but also realizes that the surroundings may be a problem if he gets distracted. In the end she sends him off with a faith that borders on anxious worry. This is how we understand faith today.
Now consider the woman living several blocks away – the wife of the chosen VP. She has lived with her husband for 30 years. They have experienced the ups and downs of life together. They have raised a family and enjoy nothing more than spending time together with their children and grandchildren. They are very devoted to each other and consistently strengthen their relationship with daily conversations, nightly pillow talk, and weekly dates. This woman sends her husband off to Las Vegas with a kiss and a smile and doesn’t even think to question his loyalty. She has a faith in him that is based on existential knowledge.
Not too many people have this kind of faith in God. This is a great loss. It was the way our forefathers understood faith. This was the “faith of our Fathers.” Today we live in a world where more people believe in the stock market than they do in God. People are willing to gamble on uncertainty while living in a world of trivial facts. This is the farthest thing from a world of faith - a world of cardo and credo.
In the world of long ago many people changed their lives because of Who they believed in - because of faith. It is long past due for us to set our hearts upon Him again. There is nothing more important for us to know.
Reference
Smith, Wilford Cantwell. 1979. Faith and Belief. Princeton University Press. 347 pp.
Some ideas come into our heads and make such an impression that we are willing to do something about them. It may be that we start to save money, grow a garden, or communicate better. Or it might be something else entirely. Whatever the impression may be it involves a thought, a heart-felt desire, and a planned effort.
This is nothing new, what might come as a surprise is that the heart-felt desire is just another way of saying something that we have been misunderstanding for years - even centuries. In a religious sense this heartfelt desire is what we used to mean by the word faith.
This is easier to see if you know Latin. Take the word cardiologist, for example. Most of us recognize that this is a scientist or a doctor who works on the heart. Cardo, of course, means heart in Latin. It isn’t hard to see the similarity of this word with the Latin credo, which means faith. Our English word creed is also derived from credo. These two words, cardo and credo (heart and faith) come from the same place.
This is clearly a different understanding of faith than a mere passive belief in something. We may have a lot of ideas or rational beliefs about many things. But faith doesn’t happen until we set our hearts on one of them.
This relationship of faith and heartfelt desire is seen in the Book of Heleman (Chapter 3:34 - in the Book of Mormon):
“Nevertheless they did … [wax]… firmer and firmer in their faith of Christ, unto the filling their souls with joy and consolation, yea, even to the purifying and the sanctification of their hearts, which sanctification cometh because of their yielding their hearts unto god.”
This understanding of faith may not be one that you have heard about before - and justifiably so. You won’t find it as a definition in any standard dictionary - at least not directly. But the earlier meaning is still there and occasionally comes through in certain words and phrases.
The most obvious are the words faithful and fidelity. These words convey a sense of being true but we use them about people we love. We are faithful to our spouse because of love. We demonstrate fidelity for the same reason. Simply put, faith is a virtue of the heart - not so much a virtue of the mind. If we have faith in someone, we have heartfelt feelings for them. Similarly, a true faith in Christ is not restricted to a simple rational belief in Him. It means that we love Him.
Consider all the references in the Old Testament to God’s jealousy. They often seem a bit odd. After all, jealousy is not a virtue and admitting that a supreme being could be guilty of this human frailty just doesn’t seem right.
But jealousy exists because love exists and the commandment to love God is the same thing as the commandment to have faith in Him. Unfortunately faith has lost much of this meaning. Today most of us think that faith just means believing - and this is doubly misleading. It’s misleading because the meaning of the word belief has itself changed. It also used to refer to setting one’s heart on something. Belief just like faith was all about the heart and not so much the mind.
This is obvious in German where I love you is expressed as Ich liebe dich. Love is liebe and comes from the same place as the lieve in our believe. The relationship is even more obvious in the old English verb belove.
This is significant. It is certainly more important than a mere academic insight. It changes the way we engage in public discourse about faith.
For example, today we often hear about people lacking faith or who don’t believe in God. Some of these people are professed atheists or hesitant agnostics. Their unbelief is a rational decision. Anciently this sort of thing was unthinkable.
Before modern times, God’s existence wasn’t questioned by anybody. What might be questioned was one’s devotion to Him. The first commandment is not to believe that God exists. It is to put no other gods before Him. In the New Testament, the Apostle James (in James 2:19) admits that it isn’t all that big of a deal to just acknowledge the existence of god. After all, even the devils acknowledge Him and tremble.
One of the most significant effects that atheism has had in recent times is to move the focus of faith from devotion to rational discourse. It has not only clouded our own religious lives, it has compromised our understanding of religious history.
Take the Reformation as an example, and the way we have interpreted it today. Viewed with a cardo and credo perspective, things are not the way we often make them out to be. The Reformation’s interpretation of faith in the New Testament is particularly informative.
Paul clearly taught that we are saved by faith. But he was also keen to point out the importance of living one’s faith. That this faith is grounded in cardo is quite clear in the Gospel of John where the bulk of the references to pisteuo (meaning faith or belief) are found. In fact there are almost as many references to pisteuo in John as in the three synoptic gospels combined.
And the way John uses the word faith is important too. Very often it is used as a verb and is focused on a person. John wanted us to have faith in Jesus Christ. It’s no mere coincidence that John is also the New Testament author keenest on love and the Holy Ghost. It is essentially impossible to read John without capturing a sense that faith in Christ is no faith at all if it excludes a heartfelt determination to follow Him.
Now fast-forward several hundred years to Medieval Europe. Martin Luther insists on sola fide (on faith alone) as the way of salvation. He sees parallels between the hypocrisy of Pharisaic rules and strict Catholicism and sees an unbridgeable gulf between this formalism and simple faith in Christ. But faith in 16th Century Europe is still grounded, at least in part, in cardo. There is an element of credo too and this nuance needs to be appreciated in our histories more than it has been.
Salvation through faith alone is one thing if we mean that salvation comes to those who rationally acknowledge Jesus to have been the Son of God. It is a very different thing altogether when it means that salvation comes to those who love God with all their heart, might, mind and strength. The former can be practically anybody - including insincere speculators. The later are true heirs of salvation. For this group there is no difference between faith and the first commandment.
But now fast-forward to the 21st Century. Our understanding of faith is almost always far removed from any sense of cardo. Those who profess faith very often feel obligated to justify their lack of knowledge in the next breath - as if faith and knowledge were somehow incompatible.
Here it is worth noticing the important distinction between knowing someone (for example the Spanish conocer) and knowing something (Spanish saber). Knowing things is the hallmark of our technological world. It is a world of facts. Ironically it is also a world of constantly changing certainties and perspectives. This is not the kind of knowledge on which one places a foundational faith.
Knowing people and human motivation, however, is different, especially as it involves an understanding of human nature and the reality of good and evil. Such knowledge can be existential. This is the kind of knowledge that one can rely on if, in fact, the person relied upon is faithful - is trustworthy. This is a knowledge that is based in faith.
Suppose, for example, a new corporate executive requires one of her VP’s to close a deal in Las Vegas. She sends the man with the most experience but also realizes that the surroundings may be a problem if he gets distracted. In the end she sends him off with a faith that borders on anxious worry. This is how we understand faith today.
Now consider the woman living several blocks away – the wife of the chosen VP. She has lived with her husband for 30 years. They have experienced the ups and downs of life together. They have raised a family and enjoy nothing more than spending time together with their children and grandchildren. They are very devoted to each other and consistently strengthen their relationship with daily conversations, nightly pillow talk, and weekly dates. This woman sends her husband off to Las Vegas with a kiss and a smile and doesn’t even think to question his loyalty. She has a faith in him that is based on existential knowledge.
Not too many people have this kind of faith in God. This is a great loss. It was the way our forefathers understood faith. This was the “faith of our Fathers.” Today we live in a world where more people believe in the stock market than they do in God. People are willing to gamble on uncertainty while living in a world of trivial facts. This is the farthest thing from a world of faith - a world of cardo and credo.
In the world of long ago many people changed their lives because of Who they believed in - because of faith. It is long past due for us to set our hearts upon Him again. There is nothing more important for us to know.
Reference
Smith, Wilford Cantwell. 1979. Faith and Belief. Princeton University Press. 347 pp.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
The Cost and Irony of Discouragement
You have heard the aphorism that "time is money." And in a highly competitive world that places monetary values on almost everything, this makes a certain amount of sense. It obviously makes sense if you are getting paid by the hour. It also makes sense - although a bit more indirectly - if you don't. Such being our perception of the world, it behooves us to consider one of the major enemies of time management. I refer to the problem of discouragement.
Not every hour of our day is maximally productive. I am best in the morning; and since study is important to me, I like to spend part of each morning studying. I am quite a bit less productive in the evening. This can change, however, if I happen to be discouraged. On really bad days, I might get almost nothing accomplished. The cost of this unproductive discouragement can be significant. But I would like to make the argument that the cost is greater than we might imagine if our calculations are merely monetary calculations. The real cost of discouragement has little to do with money and everything to do with the lack of fulfillment in our lives.
Discouragement can come from many places. Often it comes from the behavior of others. Sometimes it comes from failing to accomplish what we have our heart set on. Sometimes it comes because of poor health. Sometimes we are justified in being disappointed. Other times we are not. Some people are chronically discouraged. Others pass into and out of discouragement. Some people are discouraged so often that they become physically ill. However it is manifest, discouragement is worth reckoning with. It is much too costly to ignore - especially considering the value of the lives that it diminishes.
Several years ago while I was working as a part time Spanish teacher to pay my way through college, I had a chance conversation with my boss. He was also a student and had been studying business management - if my memory serves me correctly. One day he made the comment to me that the major cause of disappointment was unfulfilled expectations. This surprised me for a couple of reasons. The first thing was that I hadn't initially realized this young man was so thoughtful. The second reason was that it shifted the responsibility of discouragement from others to me. Our conversation wasn't really about me - it was about some of our young students. But the simple statement has stayed with me all these years as something that is both obvious and yet often overlooked. We get discouraged because things don't go the way we want them to. This is inevitable. But in the end, we have the ability to find fulfillment.
For Buddhists, all of this is much too obvious. The central tenets of their faith revolve around the unhappiness that comes from wanting things. For them the only relief from this unhappiness is to stop desiring things altogether. I am not in a position to be overly critical of this belief, since I haven't read enough about what they mean by it. I agree with their understanding that desires do cause us grief. I do think, however, that there is a way to find happiness - even enduring happiness - without giving away our desires.
Consider a lonely mother desiring to be reconciled with her wayward son. She may be partly responsible for their estrangement and may or may not be able to make amends. Either way, her desire is not a bad thing. In fact it remains a virtue even if her unhappiness is great and her life would be better if she could just stop worrying about the boy. In fact one can make the argument that a denial of this desire would lessen the mother's humanity. It is not a natural thing for us to not have desires.
And yet it is precisely these desires - or rather the thwarting of these desires - that cause us discouragement. And this discouragement is one of the greatest drags that keep us from becoming what we otherwise have the potential to become.
One of the immediate - and very common - signs of discouragement is to give up. Young people are particularly prone to this mistake. A typical example would be a young man discovering that he has a knack for art. He then spends every one of his high school electives taking art classes. His teachers encourage him because he is their star student. Other teachers, parents and friends also praise his work. Then he enrolls in an art class at college and no longer is the favored student. Other young artists do better work than he does - or so it appears to him. After the first semester, he decides on a different major and never picks up a paintbrush again. He has succumbed to the false notion that if he can't be the best, he might as well be nothing at all.
And so what happens to this young man is that he ends up in a profession that he is only partially interested in. As he gets older he struggles with the tedium of his life and wonders why there is no passion. If he is lucky, he might open a box from the attic one day, discover his painting supplies and try again. Maybe then he can overcome the misconception of his youth.
Is there a way that the grieving mother or the young artist could have prevented - or perhaps overcome - their discouragement? I think the answer is a distinct maybe. The discouragement that comes from a denial of love can be outside of our control. If the son never does make reconciliation, his mother will always grieve. She may apologize for any wrongs she may have done and do everything else to bring him back and yet still fail. For her the best answer may only be patience and to continue in love for others.
For the young artist, his discouragement is self-imposed. He made comparative success the basis for his happiness instead of the artistic involvement with beauty. His discouragement can be overcome by recognizing his mistake and by painting again because he has a gift. In the process, he may find himself again. And in this there is a bit of irony. As he becomes truer to his own nature - overcoming the competitive (even commercial) distraction of his youth - he will inevitably become a better employee. He will in all likelihood make his employer more competitive and more money.
But this misses the point for sure. Failure hurts, just as illness does or loss of friendships does. There is no way to have desires and avoid discouragement. Buddha was right. But desire has another side as well - a human side. It is the side of joy and fulfillment that comes from becoming who we are and who we are meant to be. And the key verb here is "to become". We'll never be the perfect beings we hope to be here in mortality. We will be much less. But failing to pursue the love of others and our own individual gifts - however imperfectly we may succeed - is a sure recipe for inner conflict and even greater discouragement.
A key lesson in all of this is to accept discouragement as we struggle to find the right things to desire. Remarkably as we do this, while being true to God, our desires will become more pure. They will become more capable of an enduring fulfillment. They will also become truer to our own natures - because God rejoices in our individuality and He seeks our happiness. So wherever we may be on this mortal road of discouragement, the best advice is to accept the pain and then move on. We were meant to want things. And we were meant to have joy.
Not every hour of our day is maximally productive. I am best in the morning; and since study is important to me, I like to spend part of each morning studying. I am quite a bit less productive in the evening. This can change, however, if I happen to be discouraged. On really bad days, I might get almost nothing accomplished. The cost of this unproductive discouragement can be significant. But I would like to make the argument that the cost is greater than we might imagine if our calculations are merely monetary calculations. The real cost of discouragement has little to do with money and everything to do with the lack of fulfillment in our lives.
Discouragement can come from many places. Often it comes from the behavior of others. Sometimes it comes from failing to accomplish what we have our heart set on. Sometimes it comes because of poor health. Sometimes we are justified in being disappointed. Other times we are not. Some people are chronically discouraged. Others pass into and out of discouragement. Some people are discouraged so often that they become physically ill. However it is manifest, discouragement is worth reckoning with. It is much too costly to ignore - especially considering the value of the lives that it diminishes.
Several years ago while I was working as a part time Spanish teacher to pay my way through college, I had a chance conversation with my boss. He was also a student and had been studying business management - if my memory serves me correctly. One day he made the comment to me that the major cause of disappointment was unfulfilled expectations. This surprised me for a couple of reasons. The first thing was that I hadn't initially realized this young man was so thoughtful. The second reason was that it shifted the responsibility of discouragement from others to me. Our conversation wasn't really about me - it was about some of our young students. But the simple statement has stayed with me all these years as something that is both obvious and yet often overlooked. We get discouraged because things don't go the way we want them to. This is inevitable. But in the end, we have the ability to find fulfillment.
For Buddhists, all of this is much too obvious. The central tenets of their faith revolve around the unhappiness that comes from wanting things. For them the only relief from this unhappiness is to stop desiring things altogether. I am not in a position to be overly critical of this belief, since I haven't read enough about what they mean by it. I agree with their understanding that desires do cause us grief. I do think, however, that there is a way to find happiness - even enduring happiness - without giving away our desires.
Consider a lonely mother desiring to be reconciled with her wayward son. She may be partly responsible for their estrangement and may or may not be able to make amends. Either way, her desire is not a bad thing. In fact it remains a virtue even if her unhappiness is great and her life would be better if she could just stop worrying about the boy. In fact one can make the argument that a denial of this desire would lessen the mother's humanity. It is not a natural thing for us to not have desires.
And yet it is precisely these desires - or rather the thwarting of these desires - that cause us discouragement. And this discouragement is one of the greatest drags that keep us from becoming what we otherwise have the potential to become.
One of the immediate - and very common - signs of discouragement is to give up. Young people are particularly prone to this mistake. A typical example would be a young man discovering that he has a knack for art. He then spends every one of his high school electives taking art classes. His teachers encourage him because he is their star student. Other teachers, parents and friends also praise his work. Then he enrolls in an art class at college and no longer is the favored student. Other young artists do better work than he does - or so it appears to him. After the first semester, he decides on a different major and never picks up a paintbrush again. He has succumbed to the false notion that if he can't be the best, he might as well be nothing at all.
And so what happens to this young man is that he ends up in a profession that he is only partially interested in. As he gets older he struggles with the tedium of his life and wonders why there is no passion. If he is lucky, he might open a box from the attic one day, discover his painting supplies and try again. Maybe then he can overcome the misconception of his youth.
Is there a way that the grieving mother or the young artist could have prevented - or perhaps overcome - their discouragement? I think the answer is a distinct maybe. The discouragement that comes from a denial of love can be outside of our control. If the son never does make reconciliation, his mother will always grieve. She may apologize for any wrongs she may have done and do everything else to bring him back and yet still fail. For her the best answer may only be patience and to continue in love for others.
For the young artist, his discouragement is self-imposed. He made comparative success the basis for his happiness instead of the artistic involvement with beauty. His discouragement can be overcome by recognizing his mistake and by painting again because he has a gift. In the process, he may find himself again. And in this there is a bit of irony. As he becomes truer to his own nature - overcoming the competitive (even commercial) distraction of his youth - he will inevitably become a better employee. He will in all likelihood make his employer more competitive and more money.
But this misses the point for sure. Failure hurts, just as illness does or loss of friendships does. There is no way to have desires and avoid discouragement. Buddha was right. But desire has another side as well - a human side. It is the side of joy and fulfillment that comes from becoming who we are and who we are meant to be. And the key verb here is "to become". We'll never be the perfect beings we hope to be here in mortality. We will be much less. But failing to pursue the love of others and our own individual gifts - however imperfectly we may succeed - is a sure recipe for inner conflict and even greater discouragement.
A key lesson in all of this is to accept discouragement as we struggle to find the right things to desire. Remarkably as we do this, while being true to God, our desires will become more pure. They will become more capable of an enduring fulfillment. They will also become truer to our own natures - because God rejoices in our individuality and He seeks our happiness. So wherever we may be on this mortal road of discouragement, the best advice is to accept the pain and then move on. We were meant to want things. And we were meant to have joy.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
A Tree Comes Down
I wonder how it came to be
That sunlight found the forest floor
On this cold place amid the stones
Where there was only shade before
While not so very far away
A thick old tree lay on the earth
Where it had fallen in the storm
That caused my own unbidden dearth
How simple are the ways that turn
The browning litter of decay
Into a golden spectacle
Reflected in the early day
No matter that the seasons had
Continued their eternal round
As if no change would ever come
Upon this shadowed frigid ground
But there it was in front of me
A seedling carpet green and bright
With flower buds just pushing through
This emptiness up into light
That sunlight found the forest floor
On this cold place amid the stones
Where there was only shade before
While not so very far away
A thick old tree lay on the earth
Where it had fallen in the storm
That caused my own unbidden dearth
How simple are the ways that turn
The browning litter of decay
Into a golden spectacle
Reflected in the early day
No matter that the seasons had
Continued their eternal round
As if no change would ever come
Upon this shadowed frigid ground
But there it was in front of me
A seedling carpet green and bright
With flower buds just pushing through
This emptiness up into light
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Marijuana is a Killer
Several years ago I took a road trip as an undergraduate student to Humboldt County, California. I was with a small group looking for stoneflies in the northern part of the state. As part of our research, we stopped at several small streams running by the winding mountain roads on which we travelled. I remember one turn-off quite well. It was near a tumbling stream and I was looking at a small brown riparian beetle. Suddenly the sound of a motorcycle caught my attention and I looked up in time to see the driver weaving back and forth down the highway. He then tried to manage a curve in the road where we were parked - some 20 feet off the shoulder. Unfortunately his back wheel got away from him and slid out of control. He pulled the brakes as hard as he could but only managed to slide to a stop - after running into our Suburban. As he slid I watched in horror as his head bounced twice off of the blacktop. Fortunately he was wearing a helmet and managed to survive. But the impact knocked him out. This turned out to be for the best as the pain would have been unbearable otherwise, although at the time we didn't know if he would survive. We also noticed that his bike's kick-stand was rammed deep into his leg.
The reason I tell this story is because of the event that followed the accident. The police officer that arrived on the scene quickly evaluated the situation, called in an ambulance and then began looking for something. By the skid marks near the road he found what he expected - a small plastic bag containing marijuana. "Do you know what this is?" he asked us. Being a bit (maybe a lot) naive, we replied that we didn't. "It's Humboldt Gold," he replied. "Marijuana, and it's being grown all through these mountains. If I were you gentleman, I wouldn't stray too far from the road. You don't want to stumble on to anybody's garden, if you know what I mean." We took his advice.
Right now the issue of legalizing marijuana is on the November ballot (Proposition 19) in California. Advocates for and against the legislation are currently making their best (often heated) arguments one way or the other. I don't claim to be an expert on many of these arguments but I am disappointed by the misrepresentation surrounding the effect of marijuana on drivers. Proponents for legalizing the drug claim that it is no more dangerous than other over-the-counter medications and that users are fully capable of driving under the influence. This is a very poor argument.
It may be true that someone experiencing a marijuana buzz may be able to safely navigate to the grocery store and back home again. This isn't the sort of situation that kills people. It's the sudden need to react that causes the accidents: braking for the stray cat, hydroplaning after a fall rainstorm, swerving from a reckless driver. Users of marijuana are much less likely to manage these sudden emergencies well.
But this isn't the only concern. Arguing that marijuana is not more dangerous than grocery-store medication fails to take into account one very important fact: there is no quality control for marijuana or marijuana products. Drug companies are legally required to make sure every pill they sell meets accepted medical standards. No such laws exist for marijuana nor are they likely to be imminently forthcoming. Plants don't make even quantities of biologically active compounds. There are too many unpredictable variables for this to be possible. One supplier of marijuana is certainly going to have more active material than her competitor in a neighboring county. You may think you know how much you can handle but when you least expect it, you'll find yourself in more trouble than you bargained for - experiencing an overdose at a critical moment.
It simply isn't worth gambling like this with people's lives - and this is certainly an issue that will involve people's lives. How blind are we that we can't see this? How much "fun" do we think we need when the cost of the diversion is calculated in individual lives? Maybe you think that you can handle it. But do you really think that everybody else can? Marijuana is plant-derived, variably active and a mind-altering drug. It may be (or may not be) safe in an isolated campground far away from town, but in the fast-paced urban world most of us live in, it's a killer.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Stone Mulching in the Desert
Some years ago in rural Michigan a forested area was cleared and all the trees except three young hemlocks were cut down. These small trees were left to manage for themselves. In the forest where they had been protected from wind and excessive heat, they also had to compete with other trees for basic nutrients. Yet they had managed to do alright.
Left on their own, however, in a bulldozed area, two of the three trees died within a year. The third tree ended up flourishing and became a beautifully shaped and canopied tree - quite different from typical forested hemlocks.
The only difference between the trees was that the surviving tree, quite by chance, happened to have a load of loose rocks dumped right next to it soon after the land was cleared. In the months following, the rocks kept vital moisture from evaporating near the tree and many worms and insects were able to enjoy the clement conditions they provided. These small creatures worked the ground into a nourishing environment for the roots. This couldn’t have happened where the ground was dry.
This is just one example (and there re many) of the value of mulching with stones. Unfortunately these discarded resources are usually considered only in the context of how to get rid of them. This is too bad. Stone mulches offer a lot of benefits. But they are particularly helpful in dry areas.
You have probably learned by experience that the soil under rocks can be moist when everything else is dry. Some people use this fact to calculate watering times for their garden. When it’s dry underneath, it’s time to water. And, in fact, the most important benefit of having stones around plants is that it keeps water from evaporating too quickly.
This can make a very big difference to a plant. In many dry areas, water usually evaporates quicker than roots can grow. Since soil dries out from the top first, plants have an incentive to grow roots as deep and as fast as possible, keeping their feet wet, so to speak. Once the soil is dry around the roots, a plant has very little time left to produce seeds before it dries out. Its entire life cycle is dependent on a few weeks of moisture every year. (This
is why many desert plants have thick leaves and roots. It allows them to store more water when the rains do come, and it buys them more time to develop seed and fruits when it becomes dry again.)
But what happens if a non-succulent plant happens to be growing next to a stone in the desert? Initially the amount of rainwater may be the same as before. But because the stone slows down evaporation, it allows the plant’s roots to grow for a longer period – essentially keeping up with the rate of evaporation. Plants with deeper and better developed roots are bigger, healthier, and set more fruit. It’s no surprise that plants growing next to rocks often look so good.
Of course there are other benefits to stone mulches than just water retention. Roots often grow next to stones because it’s a place to leverage growth. It’s also a place where rainwater (or sprinkler water) seeps into the soil first. The small space left from this seepage also allows worms and insects to move easier, creating a vital microclimate for roots.
Of course the use of stone mulches is not the only way to build soil. Other mulches do too. But stone mulches have a bit more value in dry areas than other mulches do. Take, for example the experience of Dorothy Anderson.
Dorothy lived in Wisconsin a couple of generations ago. Now Wisconsin is not the driest place in the world but the summer heat can often dry things out. Dorothy was also an avid gardener and paid attention to how her neighbors did things. When she learned that mulching (with hay, weeds, etc.) was bringing bountiful harvests to others, she was determined to do the same thing herself. But then she ran in to some difficulty.
She didn’t have a lot of leftover plant material to use as mulch and when she put what little she could find in her garden, it just dried up and covered the dry ground. She didn’t get much benefit from it. It took several years and a lot of foraging to get enough weeds and other organic matter to really help her garden.
For those of us living in the dry Southwest, we certainly understand this kind of problem. In fact the problem is a lot worse for us. Not only is it hotter and drier but there’s less plant waste to go around. If we really want to mulch, we often go to the hardware store and just buy it. And if we don’t put out enough, it doesn’t do us any more good than the little Dorothy started with.
The situation changes, though, if we use stones. Place a handful or two of grass (or straw) mulch on the ground here in Fresno and it will quickly dry up and get blown away. But if you put the same handful on the ground and place a stone on top of it, things change. The most obvious thing is that the mulch stays there. It’s also shaded and small insects will crawl under the stone to get out of the sun. If moisture is added it will stay near the soil surface much longer than in surrounding areas.
A study conducted in the 70’s in the desert Southwest showed that moisture evaporates from bare soil at a fairly even rate of about an inch every three days. Under the same conditions, moisture evaporated from a stony area at a rate of about an inch every two weeks. This added moisture is as good as gold to plants in dry areas. It also creates an environment for soil-building organisms such as earthworms, arthropods and even fungi. A flat stone in the desert is a way to build soil if we know how to use it.
One of the interesting histories of the Southwest is the agricultural use of stone mulches by the Anasazi. Dale Lightfoot at Oklahoma State University has evaluated these mulches extensively in dozens of abandoned farming areas near Santa Fe, New Mexico where these mulched areas can still be identified - over 700 years after they were made. The areas show up clearly using aerial infra-red photography because they are greener than surrounding areas. These erstwhile garden sites are noted for their regular arrangements of cobbled stones with borrow pits from which the stones were taken.
Lightfoot concludes that these stone mulches not only increased (and still increase) soil moisture but that they also reduce erosion, extend the growing season and increase crop yields. This is quite a list for a dry country not known for its lush gardens.
The biggest drawback of these stone gardens is that they are not sustainable. Whatever nutrients can be found in the soil are used up by successive crops so that new areas have to be prepared every several years. In China, where stone mulching has been used (as recently as a century ago) this problem was understood to affect the children and grandchildren of farmers who would have to extend significant resources removing stones in order to work nutrients back into the soil.
This problem has not been overcome. It is one of the main reasons that stone mulching is not practiced commercially on large farms. It just isn’t practical to remove several tons of rocks from a field and then to turn around and replace them after working the soil.
But that said, stone mulches still have their place. In fact they should be more widely used in dry areas. We know a few more things about nutrient cycling today than did the Anasazi or Chinese of former times. We know, for example, that stone mulches can be sustainable if organic material (such as cut grasses, straw, fallen leaves, etc.) is placed under stones each year.
Modern gardeners who do this use larger stones than the Anasazi did - since it’s easier to move them. Flat stones are also preferred to round cobbles. Various kinds of composts are placed in a garden spot with rows of flat stones (roughly the size of salad plates) covering the compost. Plants are then allowed to grow between the rows of stones.
For trees, a thick layer of compost with stones placed around the trunk does the same thing. It only takes a little effort to remove the stones once or twice a year and add more compost, and then replace the stones. The total effort is less than that required for weeding - which, of course, is no longer required. And the results have been impressive. Difficult soils are improved with the arrival of worms and insects, moisture is retained; and, most importantly, plants are much happier (if we can use that word) and more productive.
Stone mulching may not be a realistic possibility for farmers whose livelihood depends on their harvest (although creative orchardists could likely make it work). But on a smaller scale, and for those of us who care about sustainability, it makes a lot of sense - especially out here in the desert.
References
Lightfoot, D.R. 1994. The Agricultural Utility of Lithic-Mulch Gardens: Past and Present. GeoJournal 34(4): 425-437.
Lightfoot, D.R. and F.W. Eddy. 1995. The Construction and Configuration of Anasazi Pebble-Mulch Gardens in the Northern Rio Grande. American Antiquity 60(3): 459-470.
Rodale, J.I. 1949. Stone Mulching in the Garden. Rodale Press, Emmaus, PA.
Rodale, R. et al. 1972. The Organic Way to Mulching. Rodale Press, Emmaus, PA.
Left on their own, however, in a bulldozed area, two of the three trees died within a year. The third tree ended up flourishing and became a beautifully shaped and canopied tree - quite different from typical forested hemlocks.
The only difference between the trees was that the surviving tree, quite by chance, happened to have a load of loose rocks dumped right next to it soon after the land was cleared. In the months following, the rocks kept vital moisture from evaporating near the tree and many worms and insects were able to enjoy the clement conditions they provided. These small creatures worked the ground into a nourishing environment for the roots. This couldn’t have happened where the ground was dry.
This is just one example (and there re many) of the value of mulching with stones. Unfortunately these discarded resources are usually considered only in the context of how to get rid of them. This is too bad. Stone mulches offer a lot of benefits. But they are particularly helpful in dry areas.
You have probably learned by experience that the soil under rocks can be moist when everything else is dry. Some people use this fact to calculate watering times for their garden. When it’s dry underneath, it’s time to water. And, in fact, the most important benefit of having stones around plants is that it keeps water from evaporating too quickly.
This can make a very big difference to a plant. In many dry areas, water usually evaporates quicker than roots can grow. Since soil dries out from the top first, plants have an incentive to grow roots as deep and as fast as possible, keeping their feet wet, so to speak. Once the soil is dry around the roots, a plant has very little time left to produce seeds before it dries out. Its entire life cycle is dependent on a few weeks of moisture every year. (This
is why many desert plants have thick leaves and roots. It allows them to store more water when the rains do come, and it buys them more time to develop seed and fruits when it becomes dry again.)But what happens if a non-succulent plant happens to be growing next to a stone in the desert? Initially the amount of rainwater may be the same as before. But because the stone slows down evaporation, it allows the plant’s roots to grow for a longer period – essentially keeping up with the rate of evaporation. Plants with deeper and better developed roots are bigger, healthier, and set more fruit. It’s no surprise that plants growing next to rocks often look so good.
Of course there are other benefits to stone mulches than just water retention. Roots often grow next to stones because it’s a place to leverage growth. It’s also a place where rainwater (or sprinkler water) seeps into the soil first. The small space left from this seepage also allows worms and insects to move easier, creating a vital microclimate for roots.
Of course the use of stone mulches is not the only way to build soil. Other mulches do too. But stone mulches have a bit more value in dry areas than other mulches do. Take, for example the experience of Dorothy Anderson.
Dorothy lived in Wisconsin a couple of generations ago. Now Wisconsin is not the driest place in the world but the summer heat can often dry things out. Dorothy was also an avid gardener and paid attention to how her neighbors did things. When she learned that mulching (with hay, weeds, etc.) was bringing bountiful harvests to others, she was determined to do the same thing herself. But then she ran in to some difficulty.
She didn’t have a lot of leftover plant material to use as mulch and when she put what little she could find in her garden, it just dried up and covered the dry ground. She didn’t get much benefit from it. It took several years and a lot of foraging to get enough weeds and other organic matter to really help her garden.
For those of us living in the dry Southwest, we certainly understand this kind of problem. In fact the problem is a lot worse for us. Not only is it hotter and drier but there’s less plant waste to go around. If we really want to mulch, we often go to the hardware store and just buy it. And if we don’t put out enough, it doesn’t do us any more good than the little Dorothy started with.
The situation changes, though, if we use stones. Place a handful or two of grass (or straw) mulch on the ground here in Fresno and it will quickly dry up and get blown away. But if you put the same handful on the ground and place a stone on top of it, things change. The most obvious thing is that the mulch stays there. It’s also shaded and small insects will crawl under the stone to get out of the sun. If moisture is added it will stay near the soil surface much longer than in surrounding areas.
A study conducted in the 70’s in the desert Southwest showed that moisture evaporates from bare soil at a fairly even rate of about an inch every three days. Under the same conditions, moisture evaporated from a stony area at a rate of about an inch every two weeks. This added moisture is as good as gold to plants in dry areas. It also creates an environment for soil-building organisms such as earthworms, arthropods and even fungi. A flat stone in the desert is a way to build soil if we know how to use it.
One of the interesting histories of the Southwest is the agricultural use of stone mulches by the Anasazi. Dale Lightfoot at Oklahoma State University has evaluated these mulches extensively in dozens of abandoned farming areas near Santa Fe, New Mexico where these mulched areas can still be identified - over 700 years after they were made. The areas show up clearly using aerial infra-red photography because they are greener than surrounding areas. These erstwhile garden sites are noted for their regular arrangements of cobbled stones with borrow pits from which the stones were taken.
Lightfoot concludes that these stone mulches not only increased (and still increase) soil moisture but that they also reduce erosion, extend the growing season and increase crop yields. This is quite a list for a dry country not known for its lush gardens.
The biggest drawback of these stone gardens is that they are not sustainable. Whatever nutrients can be found in the soil are used up by successive crops so that new areas have to be prepared every several years. In China, where stone mulching has been used (as recently as a century ago) this problem was understood to affect the children and grandchildren of farmers who would have to extend significant resources removing stones in order to work nutrients back into the soil.
This problem has not been overcome. It is one of the main reasons that stone mulching is not practiced commercially on large farms. It just isn’t practical to remove several tons of rocks from a field and then to turn around and replace them after working the soil.
But that said, stone mulches still have their place. In fact they should be more widely used in dry areas. We know a few more things about nutrient cycling today than did the Anasazi or Chinese of former times. We know, for example, that stone mulches can be sustainable if organic material (such as cut grasses, straw, fallen leaves, etc.) is placed under stones each year.
Modern gardeners who do this use larger stones than the Anasazi did - since it’s easier to move them. Flat stones are also preferred to round cobbles. Various kinds of composts are placed in a garden spot with rows of flat stones (roughly the size of salad plates) covering the compost. Plants are then allowed to grow between the rows of stones.
For trees, a thick layer of compost with stones placed around the trunk does the same thing. It only takes a little effort to remove the stones once or twice a year and add more compost, and then replace the stones. The total effort is less than that required for weeding - which, of course, is no longer required. And the results have been impressive. Difficult soils are improved with the arrival of worms and insects, moisture is retained; and, most importantly, plants are much happier (if we can use that word) and more productive.
Stone mulching may not be a realistic possibility for farmers whose livelihood depends on their harvest (although creative orchardists could likely make it work). But on a smaller scale, and for those of us who care about sustainability, it makes a lot of sense - especially out here in the desert.
References
Lightfoot, D.R. 1994. The Agricultural Utility of Lithic-Mulch Gardens: Past and Present. GeoJournal 34(4): 425-437.
Lightfoot, D.R. and F.W. Eddy. 1995. The Construction and Configuration of Anasazi Pebble-Mulch Gardens in the Northern Rio Grande. American Antiquity 60(3): 459-470.
Rodale, J.I. 1949. Stone Mulching in the Garden. Rodale Press, Emmaus, PA.
Rodale, R. et al. 1972. The Organic Way to Mulching. Rodale Press, Emmaus, PA.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Library Insurance
It is a sad time for libraries. Once the pride of our communities (from small towns to large universities) they now struggle to keep patrons. And in order to keep up with the times, they are becoming a lot of things in order to justify their very existence - a lot of things, that is, except libraries in the real sense of that word. Books are being replaced by services and with the loss of these books, we run the risk of losing much of what we have worked so hard to learn.
A library is (and has always been) a place to keep literary and artistic materials. Traditionally, libraries have been comprised of current literature and stacks of older literature. (Many libraries also keep special collections of historic value.) Both were important. They also provided an atmosphere of learning. Libraries that were associated with colleges and universities provided an atmosphere where students could study quietly amid the volumes that they needed as reference materials. They also had access to the latest findings from their chosen fields with resources available to find information on practically any subject.
Today our libraries are mostly empty and students are finding all they think they need via computer. I have no intention of being critical of computers. To the extent that they improve our lives I welcome them. I must insist, however, that the move from the world of the library to the world of the computer is a risky thing. It is a move that threatens to destroy a great deal.
In the world of scholarship, for example, fewer and fewer volumes are being printed of many (perhaps most) important periodicals. Scholars are preferring to access articles on line from their office rather than walk over to the library. This is a convenience (I admit - and indulge in it myself). I certainly see no harm in this especially as it reduces the amount of environmental inputs and required shelf space needed to store books.
Many institutions have been wise enough to keep hard copies of these volumes on hand in case digital resources become temporarily unavailable. Of course it is impossible for any single institution to keep hard copies of everything that gets printed. So as a way around this, academic communities began a number of years ago sharing their holdings through a process of inter-library loan. This has been a real boon to scholars who have gained easier access to more materials. With an ever increasing amount of information getting printed, this service has become indispensible to serious research.
It's worth considering for a moment what shelf space in libraries meant many years ago and how it was managed. I have many fond memories of walking through the stacks of books as a graduate student at BYU in the 1980's and being amazed at the number of books. When I later transferred to The Ohio State University and discovered that its library was several times larger than BYU's I was even more amazed. The stacks of books made up several floors in the main library and space was being made to add more shelves in the mezzanine. Many subject libraries were already being moved to satellite locations to make room for the ever increasing number of volumes.
Some time later when I began studies at Colorado State University, I noticed that space was being handled in a different way. Many of the volumes had been moved to a storage facility - basically an over-sized warehouse. Requests had to be made for these volumes and there was a lapse of a day or two before a runner could find them and make them available. It was fortunate that many of these volumes had been moved because the Cache le Poudre River flooded in the mid-1990's and many of the volumes on the first floor of the library were destroyed.
Meanwhile, many volumes of older literature are now being digitally copied and made available on-line. Cornell University, for example, has made available hundreds of volumes of older agricultural literature that is hard to find elsewhere. This again is a great resource. Every year, more and more volumes become available in all branches of learning. And as a bonus we now have hand-held digital devices that make reading this material much easier and more enjoyable than older technology allowed. It is a great time to be doing research now that many older texts are becoming more readily available at our fingertips.
So doesn't all of this contradict my point? Not in the least. With all the technology (great as it is) our literature is increasingly at risk. Notice the trend. Fewer and fewer hard copies are being printed as more and more people are staying away from libraries (because more and more resources are available on-line). Libraries compensate by reducing shelf space in order to draw in more patrons with services (even coffee shops). It doesn't take much to imagine a scenario of computer collapses where vast amounts of information are irretrievably lost. This sort of collapse doesn't have to be a global melt-down. It could be local, or a series of local disasters.
Let me offer an example. I have in my library several volumes of taxonomic revisions that are very difficult to find. I require them for my research on insect diversity. I have worked at building this collection over 30 years. Much of this work was published when insect taxonomy was of greater interest to the academy than it is today and many more volumes were printed. Now when I say that many volumes were printed, I don't mean to compare this literature to the number of volumes that works of popular fiction generate. But many of these earlier taxonomic works had printing runs of several thousand copies. Even so, they are hard to find today.
If that is true of older literature, what is the situation like today? Important taxonomic research is still being conducted but it is often printed in journals with fewer and fewer hard copies produced. Authors buy fewer and fewer reprints because their work can be accessed on-line. It is very likely that hard copies are missing of these works from entire regions of the US. As a result, hard copies of current taxonomic research will be many times harder to come by in future than the older literature is today. Digital versions of this work are usually located on one server (hopefully backed up). If it gets lost... I think you get the point.
What then can be done? Clearly we should not be limiting computer resources. They are truly valuable - even if, indirectly, they justify the demise of traditional libraries and the loss of books. One thing, however, should be done: you should continue to keep hard copies in your own library.
I’m not suggesting that you accumulate a wall of books of best-selling authors. They will survive the short term disaster without difficulty. And their long-term survival will depend on their usefulness to later generations. I am suggesting that you save less popular works - titles and authors that because of their limited popularity are usually missing from libraries.
My collection of Gerald Durrell books, for example, or my volumes about science and religion. It is rare that I find any of these titles in local libraries. I don’t generally flatter myself about my collection. Mostly it takes up a lot of space – space that my wife would love to have. But it is a bit of security. I’ve been buying books for a few decades and only rarely pick a title because of its monetary value. I buy books that interest me. Even so, many of these volumes are now hard to find. What will they be worth in 50 years or more?
So again I urge you to buy real books. Think of it as insurance for the authors you love – for the books that you love. It may be that you end up saving one for future generations. Stranger things have happened.
A library is (and has always been) a place to keep literary and artistic materials. Traditionally, libraries have been comprised of current literature and stacks of older literature. (Many libraries also keep special collections of historic value.) Both were important. They also provided an atmosphere of learning. Libraries that were associated with colleges and universities provided an atmosphere where students could study quietly amid the volumes that they needed as reference materials. They also had access to the latest findings from their chosen fields with resources available to find information on practically any subject.
Today our libraries are mostly empty and students are finding all they think they need via computer. I have no intention of being critical of computers. To the extent that they improve our lives I welcome them. I must insist, however, that the move from the world of the library to the world of the computer is a risky thing. It is a move that threatens to destroy a great deal.
In the world of scholarship, for example, fewer and fewer volumes are being printed of many (perhaps most) important periodicals. Scholars are preferring to access articles on line from their office rather than walk over to the library. This is a convenience (I admit - and indulge in it myself). I certainly see no harm in this especially as it reduces the amount of environmental inputs and required shelf space needed to store books.
Many institutions have been wise enough to keep hard copies of these volumes on hand in case digital resources become temporarily unavailable. Of course it is impossible for any single institution to keep hard copies of everything that gets printed. So as a way around this, academic communities began a number of years ago sharing their holdings through a process of inter-library loan. This has been a real boon to scholars who have gained easier access to more materials. With an ever increasing amount of information getting printed, this service has become indispensible to serious research.
It's worth considering for a moment what shelf space in libraries meant many years ago and how it was managed. I have many fond memories of walking through the stacks of books as a graduate student at BYU in the 1980's and being amazed at the number of books. When I later transferred to The Ohio State University and discovered that its library was several times larger than BYU's I was even more amazed. The stacks of books made up several floors in the main library and space was being made to add more shelves in the mezzanine. Many subject libraries were already being moved to satellite locations to make room for the ever increasing number of volumes.
Some time later when I began studies at Colorado State University, I noticed that space was being handled in a different way. Many of the volumes had been moved to a storage facility - basically an over-sized warehouse. Requests had to be made for these volumes and there was a lapse of a day or two before a runner could find them and make them available. It was fortunate that many of these volumes had been moved because the Cache le Poudre River flooded in the mid-1990's and many of the volumes on the first floor of the library were destroyed.
Meanwhile, many volumes of older literature are now being digitally copied and made available on-line. Cornell University, for example, has made available hundreds of volumes of older agricultural literature that is hard to find elsewhere. This again is a great resource. Every year, more and more volumes become available in all branches of learning. And as a bonus we now have hand-held digital devices that make reading this material much easier and more enjoyable than older technology allowed. It is a great time to be doing research now that many older texts are becoming more readily available at our fingertips.
So doesn't all of this contradict my point? Not in the least. With all the technology (great as it is) our literature is increasingly at risk. Notice the trend. Fewer and fewer hard copies are being printed as more and more people are staying away from libraries (because more and more resources are available on-line). Libraries compensate by reducing shelf space in order to draw in more patrons with services (even coffee shops). It doesn't take much to imagine a scenario of computer collapses where vast amounts of information are irretrievably lost. This sort of collapse doesn't have to be a global melt-down. It could be local, or a series of local disasters.
Let me offer an example. I have in my library several volumes of taxonomic revisions that are very difficult to find. I require them for my research on insect diversity. I have worked at building this collection over 30 years. Much of this work was published when insect taxonomy was of greater interest to the academy than it is today and many more volumes were printed. Now when I say that many volumes were printed, I don't mean to compare this literature to the number of volumes that works of popular fiction generate. But many of these earlier taxonomic works had printing runs of several thousand copies. Even so, they are hard to find today.
If that is true of older literature, what is the situation like today? Important taxonomic research is still being conducted but it is often printed in journals with fewer and fewer hard copies produced. Authors buy fewer and fewer reprints because their work can be accessed on-line. It is very likely that hard copies are missing of these works from entire regions of the US. As a result, hard copies of current taxonomic research will be many times harder to come by in future than the older literature is today. Digital versions of this work are usually located on one server (hopefully backed up). If it gets lost... I think you get the point.
What then can be done? Clearly we should not be limiting computer resources. They are truly valuable - even if, indirectly, they justify the demise of traditional libraries and the loss of books. One thing, however, should be done: you should continue to keep hard copies in your own library.
I’m not suggesting that you accumulate a wall of books of best-selling authors. They will survive the short term disaster without difficulty. And their long-term survival will depend on their usefulness to later generations. I am suggesting that you save less popular works - titles and authors that because of their limited popularity are usually missing from libraries.
My collection of Gerald Durrell books, for example, or my volumes about science and religion. It is rare that I find any of these titles in local libraries. I don’t generally flatter myself about my collection. Mostly it takes up a lot of space – space that my wife would love to have. But it is a bit of security. I’ve been buying books for a few decades and only rarely pick a title because of its monetary value. I buy books that interest me. Even so, many of these volumes are now hard to find. What will they be worth in 50 years or more?
So again I urge you to buy real books. Think of it as insurance for the authors you love – for the books that you love. It may be that you end up saving one for future generations. Stranger things have happened.
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