Stepping into nature with Syndallas Baughman and Rowena Conahan

I have written about the complexities of fear a few times. Fear is something we have become culturally accustomed to. We are fearful that Iran will develop a nuclear weapon and nuke our allies in the Middle East, and so, the timing of the "end" of the Iraq invasion couldn't be more perfect. We are fearful that we will be called "anti-American" if we say things we aren't "supposed" to, and we bite our tongues. We are fearful of what a changed humanscape would look like if ecologically degrading capitalism were to end, and so, we build a bigger and bigger house of cards. There is probably also the fear of retribution on the part of those that have committed ecological and social atrocities, making it impossible for those people to come forward in catharsis.

The primal and paralysing nature of fear makes it the perfect human emotion to cater to to maintain the status quo. How might we overcome fear? Is there a way that we can, by ourselves, liberate ourselves from it? Reconnecting with the outdoors, with nature, seems like a powerful way towards this liberation. The opposite of fear is a melange of positivity, hope, courage, and engagement. These are things we need to make meaningful strides towards treading more lightly on this Earth, and moving towards a more cherishing relationships with those we do not agree with.

Syndallas Baughman and Rowena Conahan, founders of the Ann Arbor Nature School, are two of the calmest people I have ever met (listen to their voices below), and they make very compelling cases of how a reconnection with the outdoors and an understanding of ourselves as children of the Earth can lead to more peaceful, healing, and empowering lives. I shared a few words with them at the Ann Arbor Reskilling Festival a few days ago.

A few words with Syndallas

A few words with Rowena

Some thoughts on fear and forgiveness

What is needed is a sort of catharsis. We must wash ourselves of all the ecologically and humanistically debasing things that pervade our culture. What we must seek instead is, as Tim DeChristopher has said,

...a humane world...[a] world that values humanity...a world where we meet our emotional needs not through the consumption of material goods, but through human relationships...[a] world where we measure our progress not through how much stuff we produce, but through our quality of life—whether or not we’re actually promoting a higher quality of life for human beings.

And such a world can only come from a deeply changed ethic that values (not monetarily) Earth and everything that resides in and on it. But how do we overcome the fear that can be paralysing when taking new, bold steps? I don't claim to know about this in any great depth or detail, but it is apparent to me that any meaningful, positive steps that will lead to a more holistic future must be hopeful, be courageous, and come with an acceptance of newness and the unchartered.

Fear is a powerful controlling force. (But hope and courage are liberating.) Fear is primal, and is the fear that is tapped into to convince us that the "enemies" are "planning to attack our way of life," allowing those with power to use our "consent" to act violently. At the same time, fear prevents us from presenting ourselves as whole before the world because it prevents us from admitting defeat or apologising for our mistakes; we are fearful of vengeance and retaliation. I wonder, do those that engage in ecologically degrading activities, and know that they are, not come clean because they are scared of the consequences of doing so? Possibly, for many companies and people try to hide their mistakes and disasters by not confessing or owning up to them. How has the way we've structured adjudication and law made people scared? If we are able to forgive, will we live in a less fearful world? I think so. How might fear look in an ecologically holistic world? For now, I'll leave you with these words from Conversations on Forgiveness)

Forgiveness is an opportunity for transformation, both individually and collectively. It not only helps relieve mental and emotional anguish, but it offers the possibility for change, for redemption, for restoration—for hope and even love to blossom from pain and suffering. It can stop a cycle of hurt and create opportunity where there seemed to be none. Most of all, it has the potential to heal and open our hearts to love again and more fully, strengthening and building our capacity for compassion and understanding.

We might need their help more than they need ours

If we think about issues of justice, of environment, of sustainability, many in the West claim some sort of moral superiority over how things ought to be, not just for themselves, but for the world--capitalism must be "greened", the authority of the World Trade Organisation must continue to be respected, the unquenchable thirst for energy here must only be dealt with by creating unquenchable thirsts for energy elsewhere. But I believe such arrogance in world view requires a constant boost of ego. It is the same constancy with which a drug addict needs a hit. Egos are boosted by selling war machines to an unstable Middle East, by giving "aid" to parts of the world that we think need it, by bullying other nations into adopting practices that make scarce essentials of ecology and life even scarcer. But as with all addictions and all inflated egos, they must come crumbling down sooner or later, and helplessness soon follows, for addiction cannot go hand in hand with resiliency. What can we learn then from those in Haiti?

I continue to find inspiration in those people that have the the least materially, yet the most spiritually--not only spiritually in the sense that we generally think of, but spiritually in the sense of fullness of spirit and hope, no matter what becomes of them and their loved ones.

It has been approximately two years since the massive earthquake in Haiti. Since then, other events have taken the limelight in our daily lives--the Arab Spring, elections in Burma, the Occupy movement. Yet, as one of my role models, Dick Gordon, and his team at The Story continue to remind us, things aren't back to what they used to be in Haiti. For us, those that live in the comfort of a home, with enough food and clothing, and enough material possessions around us to keep us distracted from most anything, what people go through in Haiti in their day-to-day lives serves as shining examples of humanity, of courage, of happiness, of contentment. Their spirit shows that there is much for us to be content with, and much that we can do without, allowing ourselves to tread more lightly on this Earth and show it some care and respect. Please click here and listen (at least) to the first story to hear what I am talking about It is one of the most powerful stories I have ever heard. I thank Under the Sun for their tremendous production of this piece.

Hope and courage overcome

So, we've been told that the war in Iraq is "over." While on my way home, I saw veterans, young men and women, in uniform, returning to the US--some maybe permanently, some who will possibly be deployed to Afghanistan (the active war engagement that seems forgotten) after the holidays. The US military presence in the world is overwhelming and unnerving; this year, the defense budget is on the order of $660 billion, a number that does not take into account the costs of active military engagements, and which I have a feeling does not take into account the cost of having around fifteen thousand military contractors still in Iraq in a "support" role.

Having grown up in India, and having been fortunate enough to visit different parts of the world, I have come to realise something very fundamental about the United States. For all of the hard work and kindness of its peoples, the country as a whole seems to be one that is fearful--there is a fear that seems to pervade people's day-to-day lives, a fear that if we do not do our best, that we will be left behind, a fear that there is always someone else to replace us (and given unemployment numbers, this is likely the case), and a fear that we are no longer the sole superpower (or hegemonic state) of the world. I see the same fear in the way the US conducts itself internationally (listen to the wonderful thoughts of Phyllis Bennis of the Institute for Policy Studies in Washington, DC, below), one which equates the opposition to or disagreement with US policy as an affront. I see the same fear, fear that has been draped with protection, that is keeping our government from taking bold and decisive steps in a direction towards a more just and ecologically sustainable world. I believe it is this fear that makes people defensive about the ways of life that have been cherished so far in this country--lives of materialism, lives of credit and debt, lives of benefits for us and costs for the rest of the world. And this is the very fear that dictates the lobbying of those on Wall Street, for if people really knew what was going on between the banks and the government, people may, just may figure out that we live in a house of cards and a culture without resiliency. A resilient culture is dynamic yet stable. Ours is one of bubbles bursting every few years with no visionary approaches to the massive problems at our doorsteps.

Indeed, fear can be paralysing. We are unable to present ourselves as whole before the world because we are unable to admit defeat or apologise for our mistakes, mistakes that we can all agree have been made. This fear must be replaced by hope and courage--the hope that living in fear can be something of the past, that we do not need militaries to fight for what we believe in, but rather that our actions, deeds, and words are respectful of this Earth and its cultures, so much so that we cherish differences, rather than burn and obliterate them. We must have the courage to face up to the fact that our individual ways of life, when aggregated, are causing massive amounts of ecological strife in our backyards, close and far.

Fear is paralysing, but hope and courage are liberating; hope and courage are the opposite of fear. Hope and courage allow us to stand up and speak out to changing social norms, to have difficult conversations with friends and family, to protest the cutting down of trees for new "housing developments," to get in the way of the large corporations that will blow the top of a mountain off with the drop of a hat, to be civilly disobedient. Hope and courage allow us to envision fundamentally different worlds for our individuals and collective lives to exist and participate in. The paralysis of holding on to ways of life we have taken for granted when social structures and the biophysical world are shouting for help must be and can be overcome.