The Call, Column 86 – ‘Do Not Store Up Treasures Upon the Earth’

12 12 2017

(December 10, 2017)

The Urban Farmer

‘Do Not Store Up Treasures Upon The Earth’

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been doing some serious cleaning. I’ve purged everything from clothes to extra project materials, from electronic equipment to the always-present “knick-knacks” – objects that tend not to be particularly useful, yet that I somehow can’t bring myself to part with.

This process has forced me to face the staggering amount of stuff that I have acquired and held onto in my short 25 years, much of it just in the past few. I’ve always fancied myself a bit of an anti-consumerist; and while I still hold that view more strongly than ever before, and act on it in certain, distinct ways (I do not conspicuously consume expensive things, on principle), purging my belongings has made me aware of more than a bit of personal hypocrisy.

So, what’s the best way to flesh out these difficult, uncomfortable concepts? You know, those aspects of our society that are damaging to the environment, our health, and our happiness, but are practiced by even the preachiest of critics, like yours truly? Discuss it in a public forum for all to read, of course!

And in light of the Christmas season being upon us once again, I think it’s an appropriate time to take a good, critical look at “the consumption of large amounts of stuff” as a normal operating mode for us in the Global West. Let’s go!

As with everything else, my first impulse is to look at this issue in the context of our transition from hunter-gatherers to agriculturalists, 10,000 years ago…and low and behold, that seems to provide us with some answers.

Prior to the start of agriculture, most human beings were basically nomads. We did not have permanent structures to live in or store our belongings; and anything we wanted to keep, we had to carry along with us as we moved around in search for food. That limited our stock of personal belongings to necessities – tools, short-term food storage, clothing, etc – and sentimental items deemed important enough to bear the burden of carrying.

But, like in so many other ways, the start of agriculture created a paradigm shift in our habits, as they related to accumulating goods. Agrarianism allowed human populations to settle down in one place, build permanent residences and other structures, and benefit from the implicit security that comes from a self-contained community. At base, this foundational shift to agriculture meant that we required vastly more tools, building materials, and food storage implements than while we were hunter-gatherers.

But it also gave a new meaning to the ideas of ownership and property. No longer was “my property” limited to whatever I could carry on my back. The start of agriculture, and civilization to boot, meant that a nice swatch of land, a house, a fenced paddock, some fields, and everything contained within were all “my property”. And with those, every tool, building, material, fiber, fuel, food, and feed required to maintain them.

And with the formation of civilization came the division of labor. This allowed craftspeople and artisans of all sorts to work off of the farm, creating goods that weren’t essential for survival, but which made life easier and more enjoyable. Modern-type economies arose from this, and people began to acquire and accumulate goods as they continue to do this day.

I believe it was this type of post-agrarian consumption pattern to which Jesus was referring in Matthew 6:19, when He said, “‘Do not store up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.’”

By that time, two millennia ago, the imperative to consume non-food goods was already ingrained in our collective psychology. It was motivated both by the understandable desire to provide for long-term need and security, and the much less noble one of wealth accumulation and fostering economic status.

And so it went. We were agrarians 10,000 years, up until sometime in the 1800s when human beings moved, en masse, off the farm and into the cities, to work in factories and industrial jobs. We lost the values implicit in agrarianism, which at minimum, grounded us by keeping us intimately aware of the primary production systems that yielded consumable goods (food and otherwise). We entered the 1900s and then the new millennium, our culture continued to shift. And now, the innate, animalistic, psychological imperative of seeking security through the acquisition and accumulation of goods is manifested in hoarding, conspicuous consumption of overpriced cars and property, and the behaviors which lead to television shows like Storage Wars. Oh boy…my oversized book collection is starting to look a little more innocent.

My question, like always is: what effect does this phenomenon have on our health, our happiness, and our local and global environments? Great, I’m glad you (I) asked.

The last part is the easiest to answer. Consumption of goods requires production of goods and (in most cases), disposal of waste. The disposal of solid waste is bad for the local environment, presenting the challenge of building landfills without poisoning the soil, water, and air. But solid waste isn’t the only output of excessive consumption. Our use of fossil fuels releases unprecedented amounts of fossil carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, accelerated human-caused climate change and wreaking havoc on the global environment. What’s more, as evidenced by the exploitive, industrial production systems built around agriculture, forestry, mining, fossil fuel acquisition, and processing, production is pretty bad for the environment, too.

Beyond the environmental effects, though, excessive acquisition and consumption of non-essential goods clearly takes a toll on human health and happiness…on a society-wide scale, and also an individual one.

It goes without saying that there are negative public health effects that stem from the pollution, associated with the global production system. And the goods which tend to be marketed to people – because they are the most profitable – seem to be sort of unhealthy to consume (sugary and processed foods, objects of vice, expensive goods made for the purpose of defining socioeconomic status).

But there is also an implicit stress associated with the over-acquisition and over-accumulation of goods…something that I can attest to from personal experience. Like a lot of people, I do best when the scope of my immediate environment, the set of all things that I have to keep control over, is minimized. The more things I have to remember to clean and maintain, to organize, to read, to delegate, and to “do” in general, the more stressed I become. By purging a fair number of my belongings, cleaning up my living space and organizing my projects into a system that I will hopefully maintain with little effort, I can feel this stress lifted.

I think this is true in general for people. We evolved as hunter-gatherers, and were up until recently in our biological history. The scope of our environment was small: it was our nomadic tribe, our small number of transportable belongings, and the immediate locality in which we were searching for food. So while there is a comforting and perfectly justifiable security that comes with owning more – food, tools, fuel, textiles, books, art – than we need for immediate survival, I have come to believe that there is an implicit stress, a strain on our brains’ ability to process its environment, in owning more items than we can ever properly use.

This holiday season, all I’m asking is that we keep our overall consumption habits in mind. There is nothing wrong with buying things, especially not to show our love for others or improve the quality of our lives. But by taking simple actions – like recycling, like minimizing energy consumption, like buying high-quality goods from producers that provide for laborer and environmental health, like recognizing that experiences often bring more happiness than physical goods – I think in our consumption, we can help to produce a better world.

My column appears every other Sunday in The Woonsocket Call (also in areas where The Pawtucket Times is available). The above article is the property of The Woonsocket Call and The Pawtucket Times, and is reprinted here with permission from these publications. These are excellent newspapers, covering important local news topics with voices out of our own communities, and skillfully addressing statewide and national news. Click these links to subscribe to The Woonsocket Call or to The Pawtucket Times. To subscribe to the online editions, click here for The Call and here for The Times. They can also be found on Twitter, @WoonsocketCall and @Pawtuckettimes.

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The Call, Column 85 – What You Learn on Thanksgiving

12 12 2017

(November 26, 2017)

The Urban Farmer

What You Learn on Thanksgiving

Early Friday morning, I sat down to one of my favorite meals of the year, a heaping plate of Thanksgiving leftovers. Right as I was about the take the first bite, I paused and thought to myself: “I’m not nearly as reflective about the local-ness of my food as I used to be.”

When I started seriously urban farming five or six years ago, which was right around the same time that I started buying from local farms and farmers markets, I remember being obsessed about the origin of the things on my plate at each meal. I don’t mean that I was compulsive or anything; I didn’t require that everything I ate be local/organic/whatever, or lament over anything that wasn’t. I just spent a lot of time in self-congratulatory mode, meditating over whichever ingredients I had managed to source locally/organically/whatever, or had grown myself.

But over the past few years, I’ve gotten so good at sourcing my food mostly locally, that it’s second nature at this point. A majority of my food comes from the local foodshed and my own yard, because I’ve put “systems” in place – shopping regularly at the farmers market, structuring my diet around foods available year-round in our area, processing and storing some of my garden’s produce, and keeping my fridge and freezer always stocked with meats and vegetables of known and acceptable origin – to make sure of it. I’m used to it that it no longer even occurs to me to stop and think about that fact at every meal.

But something about Thanksgiving changed that. This meal was made up of layer upon layer of significance; layers of meaning that were deeper than just taste and nutrition. The same may be said about any meal, to a varying degree. But I thought it would be fun today for us to dissect this a little and really ruminate over the meaning hidden in the foods on our holiday plates.

The first layer is that the meal is made of local, quality ingredients. I don’t have to explain to you how important this is. Our entire Thanksgiving meal was made up of real, while ingredients, mostly vegetables and meat.

But beyond this, we were able to source many of the primary  ingredients from the local foodshed. The truly free-range turkey was from Radical Roots Farm in Canterbury, CT, a beyond-organic farm owned by my friends Aly and Ryan. It was among the best turkeys I’ve ever had; so much so, that there is another in my freezer.

The Brussels sprouts, cranberries, potatoes, apples, pumpkins, and onions were all from local, sustainable farms; the garlic, tomatoes, spices, and a couple of other ingredients were from my garden; even the olive oil was sourced as locally as possible (California). Basically every food on the Thanksgiving table can be sourced from the local foodshed; and absolutely every ingredient can come from sustainable farms that know what’s up. This is the most basic significance of the food, and one that I’m glad I was reminded of by my plate of holiday leftovers.

Digging down, the next layer of meaningfulness is that the work of so many hands went into creating the meal. At base, of course, is the fact that farmers grew the food.

And this meal represented three generations of my family: my grandparents cooked the turkey and stuffing, my mom made the vegetables and potatoes, I did the desserts (ironic, much?) and a couple of sides, and my sister and her boyfriend made a cheesecake and a nice batch of grain-free tabbouleh. And my dad, though he doesn’t cook too often, supports the effort by cleaning the house and helping where needed.

Though my family usually eats one meal together per day, the vast majority of cooking and preparation is done individually. I can’t overstate the significance of this big meal, where each of us made a significant contribution to the end goal.

The next layer of meaning, is the power of this meal to bring people together. The dinner (actually lunch) itself included the people above: my grandparents, my parents, me, my sister, and her boyfriend. But when it came to dessert, the circle got even bigger.

My grandfather’s sister, my mom’s brother and his family, and two of her cousins and their families, along with two of our oldest, closest family friends, all came to spend the latter part of the day. We talked, laughed, gossiped, and of course, ate more. This is something that doesn’t happen nearly enough for my liking, especially for a Greek family. And it demonstrates the power of food and celebration to bring people together.

The final layer is, of course, the cultural and historical tradition which led us to this feast day. Now, I will be the first to point out that the history of our country, especially at the time of the first European expansions into North America, is one of genocide and imperialism. We did not have any claim to this land, and the ensuing takeover of a relatively peaceful land of small hunter-gatherer and agrarian tribes was violent and uncomfortable.

But it happened long ago, and the best we can do now, as individuals, living in this country, is to remember and learn from those events (and make reparations, of course). Thanksgiving Day was established to commemorate the knowledge and help passed on from the Native American tribes to the first, relatively peaceful English settlers, which allowed them to survive in the harsh climate of New England.

In spite of the history, it is the selflessness of the Native Americans – acts which crossed religious, national, and cultural lines – that is commemorated in our continued celebration of Thanksgiving Day. It is the deepest layer of significance in that meal I was contemplating, and one that should occupy our thoughts each year as we celebrate.

My column appears every other Sunday in The Woonsocket Call (also in areas where The Pawtucket Times is available). The above article is the property of The Woonsocket Call and The Pawtucket Times, and is reprinted here with permission from these publications. These are excellent newspapers, covering important local news topics with voices out of our own communities, and skillfully addressing statewide and national news. Click these links to subscribe to The Woonsocket Call or to The Pawtucket Times. To subscribe to the online editions, click here for The Call and here for The Times. They can also be found on Twitter, @WoonsocketCall and @Pawtuckettimes.