Rethinking the Fly, Hummingbird and Buzzard

As I went on my nature walk the day before yesterday, I decided to be particularly adventurous and go out in search for more wildlife (since in previous blogs I've mentioned my incredible luck of wildlife finding me). I started to search around Abbott Park, hoping to all of Mother Nature that I'd catch some delicate creature in the act of eating a meal. Or maybe even perhaps some rare bird specific to the autumn season, actively keeping the food chain in motion.

Unfortunately, while purposefully trying to find life; I was unable to do so. Sad days...

However, as I read through Ceremony for today I couldn't help but become amused by how many animals are referenced throughout the book - especially the imagery of Buzzards, Hummingbirds and flies.

At around pages 94-97, there is an intriguing moment in the book when Tayo enters into a bar and reminisces about all the fond memories that he once had in the bar. To him, every inch of that bar carries sentimentality as he looks over little details, such as the old stove, plaster on the walls and the bent floorboards. His disappointment sets in as he realizes that those fine communal days at the bar are over.

The most interesting about about this section though aren't specific just to the bar and the memories that Tayo ties to them, but rather the poem that seems to bookend his feelings.
On page 97 the poem reads that, "Fly started sucking on/ sweet things so/ Hummingbird had to tell him/ to wait:/'Wait until we see our mother.'/ They found her./They gave her blue pollen and yellow pollen/hey gave her turquoise beads/they gave her prayer sticks.

'I suppose you want something', she said./ 'Yes, we want food and storm clouds.'/'You get old Buzzard to purify/ your town first/ and then, maybe, I send you people/ food and rain again.'

Fly and Hummingbird/flew back up./They told the town people/that old Buzzard had to purify/the town. (P.97).

The imagery in this poem really struck me because it speaks to one of the main themes of the book - which is to reshape their once tight-knit community through the land (which is reminiscent of how Leopold conveyed his ideas about community through nature).

The mixture of Tayo's memory in tandem with the poem serves as a way for Silko to stress the importance of creating and maintaining a community. When Silko writes about Tayo's memories first and the poem second, she creates a parallel of how the community was before - a strong one, to a dying community in need of "purification" by way of an old Buzzard. This all seems very similar to how Leopold used the image of the mountains and wolves as a way to illustrate life before and after people turned away from natural traditions (or how his perspective changed from being a trigger happy hunter, to a respecter of the land).

In addition to the communal message, it seems to me that Silko wants the Buzzard to represent the Native American spirit that the people once had and the hummingbird and the fly are the almost powerless spirits that the people currently have; which in turn reinforces the differences between the community in the past to the one in the present

Food For Thought

"At one extreme are those who sound as if they are entirely in favor of nature...at the other extreme are the nature conquerors" (137).

-Wendell Berry

I've actually watched Food Inc. several times, including for my documentary studies class, during which we examined and critiqued the film as a source of information and vehicle for social change. We noted its overall "catchiness" in that the movie itself appeals to the masses. The music, animations, bright colors, and simplistic structure all make it a commercialized product, in many ways similar to the packaged products of industrialization. The health concerns and environmental practices contained within the film are broad and well-known to anyone familiar with the food industry. Who doesn't know that Monsanto is the overwhelming nemesis? Who doesn't know that corporate companies like Tyson use unjust practices in producing mass amounts of food to feed an obese nation? Apparently, more people than you think.

The solutions that the film suggest are broad, as well. Shop locally. Support small farms. Plant a garden. Be the change you wish to see in the world.

Been there, heard that.

If it was that simple, wouldn't people be doing it? If individual consumer choices could, in fact, completely change our entire method of production, why haven't we been able to? The answer is: accountability.

Corporations aren't held accountable. The law, government, and money itself sees to it that our economic system continues to rely on this industrialized system where "artificial" replaces "natural." We aren't going to see the change that the hardcore environmentalists would like to see until our resources run out. It's depressing and sad, but it's the truth. Here's why: we've created a system that people are now born into. Children are brought up eating tomatoes grown 500 miles away, wearing clothes made in Pakistan, playing with toys made in China. I was brought up that way. I continue to enjoy a lifestyle that supports these economic relations, even though I do try to buy locally, go to farmer's markets and Maine fairs and purchase fair-trade items.

Our society is so overly-dependent upon these cheap labor systems because they pay off in the short term. However, the long-term effects are far more detrimental than any small, immediate gains. We don't realize the value of these resources until there are shortages.

Then, we complain.

We complain when gas prices go up. We complain when food prices go up. We complain if the power goes out during a storm, if our shower water isn't cold, if our flights are delayed at the airport.

Well, at the rate that our country and world is gobbling up the land, in just a matter of time we won't be complaining about these insignificant inconveniences. We'll be searching for water, food, and shelter.

Why are we headed down this path? Accountability.

You don't have to buy corn from the farm stand down the road, now. But you will.

You don't have to limit your showers to a certain amount of minutes, now. But you will.

You don't have to recycle your cardboard or paper or cans, now. But soon, the only landfill open will be in your own backyard.

So, films like Food Inc. are necessary for people who don't know about these issues. Maybe ideas like the ones presented in it can change or influence public opinion. Yes, I do think that consumers have power. Yes, the Wal-Mart representatives admitted to it in the film. Yes, I think we must go back to the local...in fact there is no other choice.

But until action is mandated, we aren't going to see dramatic change. People, at the end of the day, think for their own well-being and convenience, first and foremost. I'm not saying this to be pessimistic, but rather, practical. It is a reality. Wendell Berry suggests that there are two extremes: the tree-hugging naturists and the nature conquerors. The truth of the matter is that we're all nature conquerors, no matter how kind our intentions are, because of the systematic structure in place, which we all feed from (literally and metaphorically). Until regulations and accountability are instituted for individuals, nations, and corporations, we'll continue to shop our way into extinction.

Pass the potatoes.

The Rain Ceremony

I wished for rain last week. I was having one of those days where nothing was going right and I just wanted the weather to reflect my mood. My mind was cloudy, but I could tell it was full of dark things, too many things… I felt a little bit like Tayo – walking around in the here and now, but not thoroughly a participant. Random objects would recall memories that I’d forgotten I’d ever had… A sign on a door, the color of someone’s shoes, a minor chord played by a stranger on the piano, all these things assaulted me… There was my grandfather hardened like a skeleton after chemo treatments, there was that desperate glint that appeared in my father’s eyes when he yelled and the sound of my best friend’s voice as she said, “I forgot about you”.

I stepped outside and smiled as the rain fell. People were rushing and important papers were getting wet; I enjoyed every minute of it. The rain revived me as I walked and with every step I imagined the darkness that clouded my mind getting washed away, the rain taking it with it and down into the gutter where I didn’t have to see it anymore.

This walk made me think of cleansing and the ceremonies that Tayo undergoes. The rain was a sort of cleansing for me, but I couldn’t help thinking that it could be a cleansing for other people as well, an event that would connect them back to the Earth. As I was reading Ceremony I couldn’t get over the description of the white people’s connection with nature:

Then they grow away form the earth

Then they grow away from the sun

Then they grow away from the plants and animals.

They see no life

When they look

They see only objects.

The world is a dead thing for them

The trees and rivers are not alive

the mountains and stones are not alive.

The deer and bear are objects

They see no life. (123)

As in this description, I too get caught up in the world of objects. I think it’s easy to do here in college. My existence revolves around due dates for projects, papers, and presentations. I breathe in so many words, only to breathe them out again the next day in class. My dreams are about typing my papers and taking my tests. I feel like this is a problem. I think people aren’t thinking about the right things and I know that they aren’t being very observant. They don’t notice that most of the leaves have fallen; they don’t take the time to reassure themselves that the sky is blue. Honestly, I feel like it could be green one of these days and they wouldn’t notice it. However, the rain… The rain they see as an enemy. It makes them cold, and it gets them wet, but the good thing about rain is that it should, at least, for a second, make them forget about papers, tests, and presentations. It should remind them that they are human, and that they can only do so much. It’s a ceremony which many don’t want to undergo, but one that I believe is extremely necessary.

Being Natural

On my walk I did not stray far from town, it was raining and cold. As I am opposed to both of these I decided to reward my self with some Soup for You at my journeys end. As I was walking down Broadway I could smell food wafting out of the many restaurants along the road. While they all smelled delicious, all of the smells were blended together no one smell was unique to a source. As I walked into Soup for You the smell became more unique and the soup as always was superb.

As I walked back to the dorm I thought about the fact that the smell is the strongest of the senses. One sent can trigger a memory from decades before. It is not something that people often think about in regards to things other than themselves, how do I smell? Does my breath smell? Does my house smell good? These are thoughts that people have. And in todays world products are sold to appease these thoughts. We have deodorant, perfume and cologne to cover up body oder. We have mouth wash, mints and gum to cover up bad breath. We even have Fabreez to cover up any left over smells in our living spaces. I had to wonder if anything we smell is natural anymore.

I am writing about this because later as I read Ceremony I realized that the sense of smell( as well as the other senses) was important to the story. "He walked in the evening air, which was cool and smelled like juniper smoke from the old man's fire"(127). In this scene Tayo is walking outside and he is able to smell something natural, juniper. There are many other scenes like this in the book, but as I read this line it occurred to me that I do not even know what juniper is let alone what it smells like. I do know the difference between Clinique's Happy and The Gap's so pink, I can also tell you which one costs more.

My point here is that today in the world we are so busy covering up the natural that we don't see what we are losing. In Ceremony we can see how tied to the land we are supposed to be and how going against nature can poison us. I have to wonder in the future if we will be able to smell anything that is not a processed chemical? I would be sad to think that this could even be a possibility. But I hold out some hope because as I took my walk the entire time is smelled like rain, and though Yankee Candle may have a sent titled rain, the real thing smells nothing like it.

Road Kill, Winter, and Organic Food

The last few days have been horrible for walks. On the days that it is not raining it is incredibly cold and/or windy. I don’t think I will ever get used to Maine weather. I walked down Perham street because the ground was far too soggy to walk in the woods this week. I hate walking in mud and I really hate getting my shoes covered with it.
As I was walking, I noticed how dead the world looks right now and sadly realized that winter is coming. The time right before the first real snow fall always depresses me. Everything looks so grey, cold, and sad. I constantly feel like I’m in a Stephen King novel at this time of year. The only good thing about snow is that it covers up all of the death.
Unfortunately, I see a lot of road kill when I walk down Perham street. It’s a little gross, but if you walk by the same road kill every day you get to see it slowly disappear. Animals slowly pick away at it, a car might run over it again, and it also decomposes on its own. I know it’s gross, but I can’t help but think it’s a little interesting to see. Without death there cannot be life, so in a way I guess destruction is necessary to live.
While I looked at and thought about the road kill, I remember a passage from Ceremony that seemed relevant. The section in which Tayo smashes a melon ends with bugs infesting the “remains.”
“Tiny black ants were scurrying over the shattered melons; the flies were rubbing their feet on the fragments of pulp and rind. He trampled the ants with his boots, and he kicked over the seeds and pulp. He watched the flies buzz in circle above the burial places” (61-62).
I wondered at first, why did he not want the bugs to be in the guts of the melon? Perhaps the melon is not just food to him, but rather a living thing that is closer to human. Maybe the guts and the destruction reminded him of the war and the corpses that resulted from it. I wonder how Tayo would have reacted to the dead, insect covered bunny on Perham street.
I do need to write/think about the Food Inc. movie that we had watched in class last week. I do understand that some animals live in horrible conditions and this ends up being negative for the consumers (us). However, how many people inhabit the earth now? How many people live in the U.S. alone? Would it be possible in any way to feed all of those people with organic farming? I do not think that it is possible. What requirements must a food meet in order to be considered "organic" anyway? I'm currently doing a little research on organic food because I am now interested. Here are some links I have found so far:

http://www.green-blog.org/2009/08/05/penn-teller-claims-organic-food-is-bullshit-fails-to-mention-that-their-expert-is-paid-by-monsanto/

http://www.quackwatch.org/01QuackeryRelatedTopics/organic.html
Once I find some information I will write another blog on it.

Walking Against Traffic

My walk this week may not have been alone,and it may not have been in nature, unless one counts High St as nature. I guess it could be, if only you consider the clusters of apartments full of college students as colonies of some particular animal, and the road as the one connecting path and the cars as predators, but I digress. Now about this not walking alone bit: I realize that we're supposed to walk alone so we're silent, and I was mostly silent, listening to the drunken burps and noises and misplaced adjectives of my mostly inebriated friends as we looked for someplace to go. (DISCLAIMER: we were not on campus and all persons were of age) There was stumbling, swaying, and all the usual stereotypical drunken walking you can think of. I don't know what was talked about. It wasn't in any recognizable language or syntax, yet everyone understood one another. There was drooling. There was clumsy affection. There was loudness and lewdness.All that mattered was the road and walking beside it, not on it; there is the occasional car at 1am.We were animals. We were the animals of High St. This relates, bear with me.

So while reading Ceremony, I thought a lot about all the Native American literature I've read and how this compares or doesn't. Tayo is a fairly depressing human being to read about. The few rays of sunshine are the moments when he remembers happy times. One such moment, "Josiah said that only humans had to endure anything, because only humans resisted what they saw outside themselves. Animals did not resist. But they persisted, because they became part of the wind."(24). Well, yes, of course we resist. We don't want to die, so we have medicine. We don't want to rebuild after natural disasters, so we create walls and complex machinery to protect us. We don't want to accept that it happens on purpose, that Nature has a cycle that we can't see. We think we need to see everything to be above it. Wanting to be above and not part of requires separation; separation requires resistance.

Oddly enough, I remembered my drunken walk down the street with friends. We weren't human then, we were animals and unthinking. Is that why we were enjoying ourselves? There was no thinking about stress, or wondering where the next meal was coming from or trying to solve world hunger. There were no machines to rage against, only the alcohol that brought us to that baser state. Resisting is hard work, and we didn't work against anything that night. Did we sway like the wind, and become part of it in our drunkenness?

Sometimes I think human beings would be happier if we didn't try to think all the time. Most people, when looking for an escape, look to something that wipes out their brain: hard liquor, drugs, physical sports, adrenaline rushes. Berry wanted us to work with our hands so we could see and feel the end product. See and feel, not think about. We had to think to invent the factory. We had to think to make war. We had to think to globalize. We have to think to resist. Do we have to think to survive?

Efficiency or Enjoyment?

As I have said before, I prefer to take my nature walks towards the end of the day. Whether or not this is because the end of the day is the only time that I have to do any walking, I still find it personally enjoyable because of the overall experience that I get from finding a nice quiet place to pass the remaining hours of light in the day. This week, I found a nice inconspicuous spot at the base of a tree in the thinning (and by now leafless) woods near campus, and I sat down to write a little bit about other similarly quiet moments in my life. I'm not really sure how I got into this habit, but writing or thinking about past nice calm moments during present nice calm moments has been a sort of saving grace for my sanity this year.

Anyway, an important realization that I came to was that the extent to which I could write depended entirely on how much sunlight I had left before nightfall. I was deep enough in the woods that as every minute ticked by I had less and less light to work with. Soon I felt as though I was racing against the clock, trying to condense my ideas enough that by the time the sun went down I could come up with something that didn't seem to end too abruptly. I noticed, however, that the race to take advantage of every last ray of daylight wasn't too stressful. The whole time that I was concerned with finishing my little entry, I had barely noticed the quickly fading light, and by the time I had finished, I was completely in the dark.

Later, I thought about Berry's fascination with the "Old school" of thought, and the conflicts with functionality and enjoyment that he raises when describing his conversations with his farming friend, who preferred to use horses on his farm rather than tractors. I thought Berry sounded a bit like Thoreau (at least the cynicism is there) when he describes the farmer's use of his tractor:

"Last spring he used his big tractor only two days. The last time he went to use it, it wouldn't start, and he left it sitting in the shed; it was still sitting there at the time of our visit" (155).

Here, I think that Berry is trying to outline what he doesn't like about the advent of quick, labor-saving technology by showcasing this particular incident, where something that might be completely practical could also be entirely impersonal. Not only does the farmer apparently have a hard time justifying its use, but once it proves unreliable, it is unable to be improved upon, and is thus left alone to rust in his shed. While I think that Berry is far from the point of despising technology to the extent that Thoreau might have, he makes a compelling inadvertent statement about the importance of the enrichment of one's own life over the practicality of modern advances. Berry says,

"At year's end, his bank account will show a difference that the horses have made, but day by day his reason for working them is that he likes to" (155).

I felt as though this passage connected with my sense of enjoyment and understanding of practical application when it came to writing things down in the dark. For me, the focus was the enjoyment that I got out of writing about something. Whether or not it entailed more work or became less efficient, at the end of the day, I didn't fuss about whether or not I was able to fill two whole pages with something brilliant and concise. That wasn't at all the point. The point was that I was happy with the way I chose to work. While I think that it might be a stretch to expand this little scenario to the economic extent that Berry brings his farming examples in "A Good Farmer of the Old School", for me the good economic sense was of personal satisfaction. After all, I don't have to worry about selling anything I write to make a living. . . well, not yet anyway.