It was one of those middle-of-the-night conversations deep in the African bushveld. So many stars that there seemed to be no dark left in the night sky; that deep, profoundly deep stillness, made all the more still & wide & poignant by the gentle punctuations from a little Scops owl somewhere close-by.
After days of walking the wilderness we were awake to the immense wonder of it - and deeply troubled by the deadly impact of the human footprint on the earth's natural systems. The game ranger - a wilderness-man through & through - cut right through our greenie concerns for the survival of the planet.
"Don't worry about the planet. The Earth will continue - we might, and probably will, screw up everything, but the planet will keep going. It'll be a changed planet, but it will survive. It's all this that won't."
And his all this took in the wide African night & all the life in it. And all the Life beyond it. All the unimaginably complex & wondrous beauty of the natural creation - that is what will not survive. That is what we're destroying - as if it didn't matter. The Life of which we are a part - the Life which keeps us alive - that is what we're killing. That is the big betrayal.
For a long time we sat around that bushveld camp fire. No one spoke any more. We could hear & smell & feel the Life in that night. And it was enough.
That was 16 years ago. And today it's as if we're still asleep at the wheel, hurtling to a certain crash. The human footprint is deadlier than ever.
Which leaves me with this question tonight:
What will it take for the human - this crown of creation - to come to its senses ? What disaster will be devastating enough, what threat will be terrifying enough, what danger frightening enough, what hope inspiring enough, for us to stop this blind, head-long rush to our own doom ?
What will it take to wake us up to the magnificence that slumbers in all of us ?
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
don't fear for your friendships
Are you concerned about the possibility that your fruitarian life may cost you your friendships ? Relax - you may be surprised.
My dear friend, M, who is completely accepting of my way of life, but certainly doesn’t have any desire to change his own very different relationship to food, came to stay with us for a few days. One afternoon I opened the fridge to find something I really didn’t expect and hadn’t had to deal with for many years: a sizable parcel of raw & bloody meat. M was going to have a barbecue.
It took me a few hours, but eventually I felt rational enough to tell him that this was just not something that was appropriate for me any longer. And then what could have remained an awkwardness between friends relaxed into farce. M was contrite, apologetic, shocked at his own insensitivity, and undertook to bury the meat immediately. We considered this for a bit, and then decided that – in a world with millions of starving people – maybe he shouldn’t do that. OK, then perhaps he should find a needy person to whom he could give the meat – he’ll think about it some more.
At that point I had to leave for a few hours. While I was away M found his solution. He cooked the whole lot & ate it all in one sitting. The sacrifices of friends ! It’s most endearing.
My dear friend, M, who is completely accepting of my way of life, but certainly doesn’t have any desire to change his own very different relationship to food, came to stay with us for a few days. One afternoon I opened the fridge to find something I really didn’t expect and hadn’t had to deal with for many years: a sizable parcel of raw & bloody meat. M was going to have a barbecue.
It took me a few hours, but eventually I felt rational enough to tell him that this was just not something that was appropriate for me any longer. And then what could have remained an awkwardness between friends relaxed into farce. M was contrite, apologetic, shocked at his own insensitivity, and undertook to bury the meat immediately. We considered this for a bit, and then decided that – in a world with millions of starving people – maybe he shouldn’t do that. OK, then perhaps he should find a needy person to whom he could give the meat – he’ll think about it some more.
At that point I had to leave for a few hours. While I was away M found his solution. He cooked the whole lot & ate it all in one sitting. The sacrifices of friends ! It’s most endearing.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
a life about something
Remember the Prof from Pretoria ? Prof B J Meyer who risked his reputation and his research grants by going against the establishment with his research into the health benefits of the fruitarian diet...
I remember a telephone conversation with him, many years ago - he'd been retired from some years, and was working on another book. He was passionately concerned about the state of food security in Africa, and felt that what was required was a radical re-think of the relationship between people & their food - otherwise we'd all be in great trouble.
And here we still are - shoring up the old systems, depleting an environment already so dangerously on the edge. Yes, Professor - we are indeed in great trouble.
A couple of days ago I got the news of Professor Meyer's passing. With our sadness, of course, there is enormous gratitude for his work & legacy. And strange as it may seem, envy. His life was about something. There was meaning & purpose & a point to it. How many of us can say that ?
I have always been struck by a story of the great Buckminster Fuller - of the moment when he had to decide whether he was going to live or die. It was night, on the edge of a lake - he had gone there to commit suicide. He found himself reviewing his life, and everything he knew or believed to be true. At the end of that night he had made the decision: if he had to live, his life had to be about something. Every word, every action had to be deliberate, meaningful & congruent. No matter what the cost. (For the rest of the story, I recommend you read his autobiography - or any of the many books written about him - it's inspiring stuff.)
A life about something. I've come to believe that we need to be grateful for the dark nights, the depressions & despair - they're our Damascus Road moments. They prevent us from drifting, only half-awake, through a life, only half-lived.
I remember a telephone conversation with him, many years ago - he'd been retired from some years, and was working on another book. He was passionately concerned about the state of food security in Africa, and felt that what was required was a radical re-think of the relationship between people & their food - otherwise we'd all be in great trouble.
And here we still are - shoring up the old systems, depleting an environment already so dangerously on the edge. Yes, Professor - we are indeed in great trouble.
A couple of days ago I got the news of Professor Meyer's passing. With our sadness, of course, there is enormous gratitude for his work & legacy. And strange as it may seem, envy. His life was about something. There was meaning & purpose & a point to it. How many of us can say that ?
I have always been struck by a story of the great Buckminster Fuller - of the moment when he had to decide whether he was going to live or die. It was night, on the edge of a lake - he had gone there to commit suicide. He found himself reviewing his life, and everything he knew or believed to be true. At the end of that night he had made the decision: if he had to live, his life had to be about something. Every word, every action had to be deliberate, meaningful & congruent. No matter what the cost. (For the rest of the story, I recommend you read his autobiography - or any of the many books written about him - it's inspiring stuff.)
A life about something. I've come to believe that we need to be grateful for the dark nights, the depressions & despair - they're our Damascus Road moments. They prevent us from drifting, only half-awake, through a life, only half-lived.
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