[pct-l] How to Green the Desert of Thought

[b j]

Beware and Caveat: A rant on land use and connection

As we head out into the parched land, starting our hikes, I know we will often think about water -- where the next water is, how much water we have, what the state of the water will be at the next watering hole, how hot it is, whether we've drunk enough water, how thirsty we are.

We debate here and elsewhere about the use of land.  Should we allow bikes?  Should we allow hikers?  Should we allow horses?  Should we allow stock?  I think it's more complicated than first glance, as our glance comes from our own treasured unique perspectives, from our love of the simplicity of walking, our love of the land and it's kaleidoscope of contours, colors, and textures, and our privilege of being able to experience both for months
 on end.  Some are less fortunate and struggle with subsistence, providing for themselves and their loved ones.

I worry about the land and how our use of it launches it on a pathway of aridity, whether from monocropping and industrial farming, whether from thirstily borrowing from the ancient waters in the aquifers below us, whether from clearcutting rainforests to plant palm plantations so that our Pringles have that smooth crunch, whether from cutting down tree after tree to fuel our much-needed family's cooking fire.  I worry.  In my thirst in the desert, I may be left alone with my worries, step by step by step.

And now, I learn that those grazing herds of four-hoofed vegetarians that roamed the plains on all the continents long ago were doing the land a favor, moving it off that freeway towards aridity and desertification, and onto the exit ramp towards a lush vibrant productive ecosystem that can store and use
 water.  However much we love the desert, it's harshness, it's sparsity, it's beauty, the world's deserts are growing by many miles every year.  That freeway towards aridity is a self-reinforcing process.  Less water leads to less vegetation, leads to bare ground, leads to dark-colored surface crusting, leads to the inability for the land to absorb water when it does rain so the water runs off and erodes the soil and evaporates, leads to higher heat absorption and hotter temperatures, leads to the inability for dead vegetation to compost which smothers new vegetation, leads to less vegetation, etc. etc.  And the deserts across the world march forward as we do on our walk, step by step by step.

What interrupted this process long ago, was the trampling of many hooves to loosen the soil, the voracious appetite of this swarm of masticating mouths, the fertilization of the ground from the leftovers of this feeding frenzy, and then
 the herd moved on, leaving a quiet peace where the land took stock and then went on with its busy work of using water and regrowing the vegetation with a refreshed soil.

No matter our dietary choices today, most of our ancestors have enjoyed eating meat over the eons.  And that appreciation of the nutrition and concentrated energy contained in meat and milk made us want to keep theses beasts around and not let them wander away when they were done snacking on the land.  We built fences.  That stopped the herds from moving.  The herds became 'ours'.  We were rich with property and food.  Life was good.  Except, unbeknownst to us, we had just set ourselves onto the freeway on ramp towards aridity.  

It took some time.  Life was good for a long while.  But the deserts are marching forward.  Don't get me wrong.  There's nothing wrong with a desert.  It's nature's way of making
 beauty and function out of desolate harsh parched land.  But when the deserts grow and suck up other ecosystems, often ecosystems that we rely on to grow food, to live on, to love, then the balance is tipping.  And yes, we live in a world of flux, regardless what our swarm of humanity decides to do as we rule with the presumption of being godlike and in control.

And given the knowledge that the herds helped the soils and that they needed to move constantly, can we apply our decisions and actions from our false godlike throne to recreate what nature so delicately managed naturally?  And will all of us, each sitting on our regal throne of rightness, who use the land in different ways, who see the land from different perspectives, be able to talk with each other and understand each other to help find solutions to the marching desert and other problems?

So although we might have a minute influence as an individual in physically
 containing the flux of aridity or of recreating the migrating herds of ago or stopping this or that problem globally, we do have the full ability to influence the flavor of the conversation, and to start to build our own herd of thought.  We have the ability to recognize our unique treasured perspectives, our own and others'.  We have the ability to pause, take a breath, and listen.  We have the ability to rediscover our childlike curiosity, approaching with the attitude to learn and build mutual understanding.  We have the ability to respect and to earn respect, through our words and actions.  

All this grows the lushness of our watering hole of conversation, where we meet and build connections with each other that reach far beyond that moment, where the thread of conversation hangs in the moist air waiting for the next visitor to pick it up and continue it.  As our herd starts on its journey and travels step by
 step by step, let us carry this string of conversation and connection with a reverence of regard towards our fellow human, towards the land we walk on, towards the desert that swallows us whole, towards the spirits that guide and cajole us, and towards the precious water that fills our thoughts and body.

I look forward to walking in your footsteps,

-Rhiannon

Inspired by Allan Savory's excellent TED talk: How to Green the Desert and Reverse Climate Change http://www.ted.com/talks/allan_savory_how_to_green_the_world_s_deserts_and_reverse_climate_change.html