Why I continue to use the word sustainable.

I have long thought of myself as an environmentalist, as well as one who strives for sustainability, both in my own life and in the communities in which I live. Many of these communities relate themselves to environmental awareness, spiritual openness, whole life learning, and social justice and in so doing suffer from the linguistic failing of word overuse and regular re-association of words. None of these fall so heavily into the traps of linguistic redefining than the environmentalists.

We love words.

We love to come up with ways to say, “Love your mother, this planet” without saying a single one of those words! We say, “Protect the animals.” We say, “Save the Earth!” We say, “Be resilient!” We say, “Coexist.” And every few years we choose a new set of words to harness for our cause. We fear that we cannot walk a talk that, to be walked fully, would take up every minute of every hour of every day, all year round. We watch each other buying new gas powered cars. We judge each other’s recycling habits. We show pride at our lack of travel. We step outside of the modern human world, but not so far as to be the crazed mountain man, nor the hippy witch woman (yes, I often fall into this latter category, but I think you get my meaning.) We love local food and local artists, but we know we cannot financially support them. This is a talk we can not fully walk.

So too do we think ourselves superior to all those who make a different set of choices. We feel out cause is superior, we feel our choices are superior, when we make mistakes we hide them and find ways to explain them away, like a yuppie woman taking a day away from her low-carb, gluten-free, raw-foods diet. But we forget how much we can learn!

We can learn from those who came before us, both in our cause and many others. I want to especially point to our social justice friends. The people who lovingly grip the word “feminist” until everyone they know believes in it, and the spiritualists who convince you of the goodness of their faith until you too believe that faith can be good. These should be our heroes and role models. We should not let go of a word just because it feels warn out or because it is not broad enough, think of the transformations in the definition of feminism over the past few decades! We should not treat our “talk” as a diet, something we are trying for a time, but as a faith, unchallengeable in its own way.

I am an environmentalist, I believe in the ability for humanity to sustain itself on this planet. And I fly, because I am also a woman living in this modern global world. I do not own a car and I reuse or recycle almost everything, but that does not make me a good person, (though I might believe it makes me a better person then someone who does not do these things.)

But my point is, we need to learn. We need to retain our identity and clarify out terminology rather than simply giving ourselves new words. We need to stop shifting and sustain our movement, or we will not be a movement. We will be the noisy rabble who can never have their voices heard.

Stick with a word Environmentalists! Any word at all.

Thanks!

Thank you to everyone who checked in n my birthday. I know I haven't posted in a while.

Life is all kinds of crazy right now. I got a great job in Jamaica Plain, MA as an Administrative Manager for a UCC church. I'm in the process of moving to a house in Medford, MA.

In the mean time, I'm continuing my grad degree in Managing for Sustainability to start a consulting business for communities within the next few years. I'm going to try to keep posting, but it might wait a few weeks until I'm moved into my new place.

Thank you all for reading!

School, Cows, and Pagan Gods

Well, I made it home.

The fountain in Downtown
Brattleboro, VT

And promptly decided to take a month off from blogging. But now I'm back.

Here's the short version of the past month: I got off the plane and went straight to my annual May Day festival. Great three days, and an all around good way to force productive transition. This was followed by two weeks of frantically saying hello and goodby to all my college friends who graduated in May and getting ready for my first In Person Grad School Residency Weekend (and attending said event), launching me into my full time grad student lifestyle. Following this was my 6 day Rites of Spring festival then a week of random appointments.

Looking East on Lucier Rd,
where I live.

Now it's June.

This past week, I looked at some apartments in the Boston area (Somerville for those who know), and had an amazing job interview with the Hope Central Church in Jamaica Plain. I stated digging deeply into my school work and got back in touch with the land.

And I had a busy Saturday.

Some amature marching bands know how to dress up, too!

The first Saturday in June marks what Bernie Sanders dubbed "probably the largest parade in Vermont;" the Strolling of the Heifers, also known as the cow parade. I'm not sure if there is anything more exciting than watching people force their cows up a Main St of a rural town while hundreds of onlookers watch, but if there is, it doesn't happen in Brattleboro, VT.

The Stroll, as it is known to many, is a 14 year old tradition that celebrates local agriculture and activism in southern vermont. It has the local parade traditions of tractor pulled floats from anyone who pays the entrance fee, school and other amature  marching bands, and local political figures. However it is punctuated by cows. Real live cows. With name tags.

That's him. Our Bernie!

If that wasn't impressive enough, this year we had a presidential candidate marching in the parade. Our own Bernie Sanders, right there large as life.

When we got home, I spent some time at our Land Wight's Shrine. In Heathen tradition, the word Wight simply means "being." So I am a wight, you are a wight, the gods are wights, and every plant, animal, and unseen spirit is a wight. At the entrance to our sacred space, we have an area dedicated to the land wights, the spirits and beings connected to the land here. It is centered around a large old Birch Tree Where we have constructed a harrow, piled stones that make an alter. My current spiritual work centers around working with this space and with the wights of this land.

Brattleboro's cow parade

In the evening, my community here on Chase Hill conducted a flower ceremony for the god Ing Frey. It was a fairly short ceremony, we sang a few songs and laid out flowers at the foot of Frey's godpost, and afterwards, we enjoyed a few horns of mead and some good conversation.

Leaving Israel

I don’t understand the way that some people are drawn to Israel.

I came here for a very explicit reason. I came here the same way people might go to India or the Australian Outback. I came to experience the divine. To delve into an understanding of the primeval force created by humanity to explain the ways of the natural world. But as my time here comes to a close, people keep asking me to stay, to become an Israeli citizen, to make Alyiah.

But I don’t understand how people can uproot their lives and move here. I felt that way some in Scotland, but not here. Here I feel lost and alone, here I feel the weight of history and the pressure of conflict – not the desire to raise a family here. In Vermont I feel the freedom to be everything I can be and everything I want to be. I feel the peace of the deep forest and the connection to the spiritual realm. Here, I feel the constriction of religion warring with the secular world. I feel the constant conflict between the Palestinians who lived here and the Israelis who the land was given to.

But in the past four months I have experienced beauty I could not imagine. I have experienced deep connections only found in the depths of the desert. I have met some incredible and spiritual people that have changed the way I think about myself and the world. I have seen and heard about acts of community goodness and interconnectedness the fill my life with hope and meaning. I have listened to stories of modern miracles and witnessed true kindness. There are connections between the people here that I can not imagine ever seeing at home.

None of this is really what separates my life at home from the past four months. I guess I don’t feel like I’ve been able to have deep theological discussions here. I did not meet any truly kindred spirits. The people around me saw one, unquestionable god, where I saw millions of highly questionable possibilities. I can never leave my reality in which everything is possible and nothing is true. As Dave Carter (musical partner of Tracy Grammer) once said “All of our songs are true stories. They might not all be factual stories, but they’re all true.” I have lived this way for most of my life – I have experienced the world as not always factual, but always true. I have believed in Mercedes Lackey’s “no one true way,” and through it I have learned to accept the differences of all the people in the world.

My ability to accept these differences has been challenged here. Challenged so fully and deeply every day. From the man in the shuk saying the there is “no such place as Palestine,” to the Rabbi who tells me “that’s a nice thought but it’s not what Jews believe,” to the people who so strongly believe in Torah that they can not accept other versions of history, to the people who are so opposed to the Orthodox Jews that they blame all of Israel’s problems on religion. I have felt more judgement here than any other time in my life.  It has not been a divine Judgement that says I am a bad person, but a very mortal judgement in which my way of life should be kept under-wraps and secret. I have met amazing people here who have to keep their entire life secret in ways that I could never imagine.

 

That does not mean there are things about Israel that I will not miss. I will miss the amazing beauty of the Old City. I will miss the view from my balcony, and the East-facing sunsets I have experienced there. I will miss the friends I have made here, and the way it is impossibly easy not to have a car. I have never experienced before a place where you can take a 5 hour trip at a moment’s notice without needing to rent (or own) a car. I will miss the markets and the freshness of the fruit. I will miss the girls I am living with.

As ready as I am to come home, I just now feel as though I am getting to know this city. I am starting to discover the hidden places that I want to know better, but I know I will also find them in Somerville.

Three days from now, I will be flying towards North America. I pray for the impossible, may this land, the space between Syria, Jordan, Egypt, and the Mediterranean Sea, Whatever name or names it may hold, find peace. And may I return to visit again.

Short post, more next week

I have spent a lot of time thinking about what to write this week, but most of what I want to write is either quite negative or fairly private.

I haven't taken many pictures this week, even though I spent a fantastic day in the beautiful city of Haifa.

This week has been the lull before the storm. And I think that is ok.

This coming week I return to classes, I will get paid for some of my work with the ICSD, I'll edit a very important paper for a very good friend, I'll work on exams for Grad School, and I'll have Shabbat in the Old City. Next week I plan to summarize my trip with a seriously long post.

This past week, I went to a sadly unique and powerful Holocaust Remembrance Day ritual, visited a man named Pesach who lives in a tent behind a harp maker's studio, spent a day in Haifa, meditated in the park, had Shabbat in the park, and rediscovered my love of naps.

Thank you for reading.

Holiday

The view from the top of Mt. Tabor. It was a hazy day which made everything
 look a bit unreal. But you can see the farmland stretching off into the distance.

In Israel, religion and national image are deeply connected. Due to this connection, the week of the religious holiday of Passover is also a national holiday. The holiday begins with a Seder, a ritual meal including a recounting of the story of Moses. I'll probably be going more into it next year - along with the pagan roots and connections, like I did for Rosh Hashannah and Yom Kippur this year - See My October 2014 post. But for now, I'm going to talk about my week of adventure.

Inside the church. This was one of
those few places I felt some
connection in, both indoors and out.

This past week, I got to experience panoramas of Israel from the North to the South. After my Seder in Jerusalem, I traveled north to my mother's cousin's house in the moshav of Moledet. A moshav is a living community in which the individuals may share some communal resources, but for the most part live separately. I arrived on Sunday.

Boats in the harbor at the old city of Jaffa. The colors were
simply amazing there.

On Monday, we went to the Church of the Transfiguration, the monastery on top of Mt Tabor. It was the first of many amazing views. I have had the odd experience over the past few weeks in being in many places of religious significance. In many cases, I have not felt any kind of connection to the divine, but the places I have felt connections have not been based on any particular religion. For the most part, they are places I am fairly sure were of religious significance long before the majority religion was monotheist, but I'm trying not to judge.

A boat at the entrance of Jaffa port. On the left you can see the
breakwater that has separated the port from the sea for
thousands of years. 

After Mt. Tabor, we visited the village of Kfar Kama where there is a settlement of Circassian people from the Black Sea region. They are a warrior people, who came the land currently known as Israel as mercenaries with the Ottoman Empire. They are now religiously Muslim, however they still follow many of their traditional customs.

On Tuesday, I got dropped off in Tel Aviv. After a morning in the Flea Market, I wandered along the beach and explored the old city of Jaffa Port. Many people have told me that I would love Tel Aviv; really I didn't think much of it. It is a fairly generic city, though it is very liberal for Israel.

Wednesday was back in Jerusalem. I had made plans to go to Masada, however I got a bit of a sunburn in Tel Aviv, and really just felt like taking it easy.

The Negev is a beautiful desert, it stretches from just south of
Jerusalem to the Red Sea and Eliat.

Thursday I left for the desert.

Naot Semadar is the ninth most southern Kibbutz in Israel. A kibbutz is a communal living situation in which the majority of resources are shared, including meals and regular chores. Naot Semadar also houses the most southern vineyard in the Northern Hemisphere. It is a beautiful oasis in the middle of the desert. The residents have built orchards and pools and a fairy tale-like Art Center. It is a place that is somehow both peaceful and lively. I was reminded again how important community is in my life and, as I felt myself missing my community at home, I also felt the hope and knowledge that I will be able to find or build an amazing community someday that cherishes all of the natural world, including humanity's place in it.

Below are a collection of pictures I took at the Kibbutz, I don't have to words right now to talk about how it felt to be there and how beautiful it was.

These were both taken at one of the many man made pools.
This garden encircles the Art Center, the cooling tower of
which you can see in the left hand picture.

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From the garden at the Art Center

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The Art Center looks like a palace from the Arabian Nights.

Every floor is different, the concrete dyed in bright colors and displayed in beautiful patterns and designs. The entire building is full for curving staircases, arched windows, and beautiful artistry.

The View from the balconies shows off the metalwork of the railings, and the amazing desert context.

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A walk around Naot Semadar shows both the creativity and ingenuity of those living there and the amazing beauty of the landscape.

On my way back to the bus stop to return to Jerusalem.

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Tourist

Storks are fairly odd looking birds. I mean, I'm sure I
look odd to them as well, but there is something
 majorly awkward about a stork. Plus they carry
babies. 

Sometimes a week is a very long time. This past week was like that. It might be that it was the week leading up to Pesach (the Passover holiday in which we celebrate the exodus from Egypt by refraining from eating bread), or it might be that I spent much of the week being the best tourist I could be.

On Monday, I went to the zoo.

Jerusalem is home to the Biblical Zoo. I’m not really sure what it “biblical” about it. I mean it didn’t have donkeys, which I think are one of the most mentioned creatures in the bible, but it does have a model Noah’s Ark with concessions on the top floor and a small movie theater on the bottom… Jerusalem has really turned tourist hosting into an art form.

Ok, whoever finds me a reference to
lemurs in the Torah, Bible, or Quran
gets a reward.

It sometimes seems as though every aspect of Jerusalem is geared towards the outsider. From the obvious things, like the zoo and the red-string sellers at the wall to the details like the beggars outside the gate, without these things, you really might not know that you were in Jerusalem. It is a city that might use some cleaning up in terms of the garbage left around, but would not do as well as it did if the shuk weren’t full of the most dedicated salesmen in the world. I actually had someone chase me down the street trying to sell me a tambourine on Tuesday.

On Tuesday, I walked the walls of the Old City. It’s called the Ramparts Walk and it costs NIS16. Yes, it costs money to walk around the ancient walls of the old city. Yes it was worth it – but only because I was listening to a good book and I brought a lunch. Otherwise, it’s a great way to get a sunburn and get stared at by the people who live in the upper floors of the buildings.

Not all the animals at the zoo were inside. I caught sight of
this guy outside of the tropical bird aviary.

It was interesting in a lot of ways, being up on the walls. I got to the Christian and Muslim quarters from a whole new angle – The Jewish and Armenian quarters are on a different section of wall separated by the temple mount, I’m not really sure how to get there, and fairly sure I would have to pay the fee again. I also got a good view of the northern part of East Jerusalem. It is defiantly different. It was really like looking at two completely different cities.

In the north-western corner of the Old City, right next to
New Gate in the Christian quarter, is a privately owned
Mosque. According to the plaque on the ramparts, it is
a "Family Mosque."

I came down from the ramparts at Lion’s Gate, right next to the entrance to the Temple Mount. If I had prepared for it, I could have turned my scarf into a Hijab and tried to visit, but that felt very disingenuous. I made my way through the Old City a little lost, but fairly certain that I would be able to find my way, I was on Via Dolorosa during the week before Easter, after all.

So I decided to go to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.

It’s not really a church. It’s more like a collection of churches that all got smushed into each other over the years. The main worship space is actually a tiny chapel inside a huge dome. It’s really beautiful and also quite confusing. As I knelt next to the stone representing Jesus’ grave asking for a prayer for health for my loved ones, I realized that, no matter how much I respect my Christian heritage, it has no real meaning for me. I don’t feel connected to it.

View near Lion's Gate. On the left you can see the Dome of the Rock and everything in this image is within the walls of the
Old City. On of the most interesting things to me were the number of gardens at the height of the Ramparts. 

I continued on alone King David Street, the main tourist shuk of the Old City. This is when I was chased by the tambourine man. He said he wanted me to write a sign for him saying “Opening Day.” He asked if I wanted to buy anything, because that’s how they do it here. I had been wanting to get a tambourine, and I did end up getting one, but he wanted to sell me a second.

Here is the dome, and that cylindrical part is the top of the
chapel. There was a line circling the chapel to get in, so I
chose to stay outside, in the church. (That is a very strange
sentence to write)

“I give it to you, my gift! Just 15 Shekel!” I told him no.

He ran after me.

*****

I wanted to write some about my Passover Seder this year, but as I have already written a full post about other things, I will give some bullet points and I plan to write more next week:

*My family in Israel is Amazing!!!

*Though most of the people at the Seder spoke Hebrew, it was mostly in English. This was in part because of me, but also Ariel Nachman, who is from the states but just moved to Israel, and another visitor from Holland.

Flamingos are cool. An silly, and way more pink than I
expected. 

*A part of the rules of Passover is that you are supposed to eat an “olive sized” piece of matzo after the blessing. There are apparently many debates in religious circles as to what is meant by “olive sized” and what the size of an olive was 3000 years ago.

*There is a lot of silliness in Jewish traditions, this is acknowledged, but people attempt to explain it anyway.

*Every year, at the end of the Passover Seder, we say “Next year in Jerusalem.” Even in Jerusalem, we say it, this is because it is generally agreed to actually mean “Next year in the Temple in Jerusalem.”

*****

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One month

While I have chosen to live in the mountains for the past few
years of my life, I do miss the sea. I love the opportunities
that I have gotten to visit the sea in Israel.

I am officially three quarters of the way through my time in Israel and it has truly been a mix of experiences. I know I have learned more about myself then I would have if I had stayed home. I learned how much I miss winter; I've learned what I truly believe; I've learned how to be alone; I've learned how to haggle in the old city; I've learned more than I can relate, and more than I know.

Last week was the end of my internship with the amazing Interfaith Center for Sustainable Development (ICSD). If you are ever in Jerusalem, look them up, they do amazing work on the best east facing view in the City (at least that I've seen so far). As a part of my work, I completed a fairly in-depth report of the state of environmental education at schools providing clergical learning in North America. It was an amazing project and I am so glad that I got to be a part of it.

View towards Jordan from just south of the Galilee. Straight ahead (East) is Jordan and a bit to the north where there is a
large dip between the mountains, is Syria.

Working for ICSD cemented my commitment to environmental work. Every day, I could feel how my connection to the work was based in my enthusiasm for environmentalism. It was an amazing experience to work within that connection. I also feel as though my spiritual connection to nature has been strengthened.

Ancient cookie presses from Akko, Israel. Because of Akko's
mixed heritage, these could have originated anywhere in
the world. They do look familiar from what I know of
Germanic cookie presses...

Nature is a very different thing here than it is at home. Here forests are a bit scraggaly as the land has a history of having been cleared making the majority of the forested land less than 100 years old. It is too dry for the dense mossy woodlands I am used to. This land has been cultivated for thousands of years, in many places entire forests have been planted in straight lines, like an orchard. The hand of man can be seen almost everywhere.

It is amazingly beautiful, but very little looks truly natural. It is a world of gardens, planted by human hands. And it is a land of stone, laid by human hands. And what stone it is too!

There are places like this in every old city I've
been in in Israel. In this spot, you can see
history in a very different way.Each of the
arches is from a different building, You can
see how they were built one on top of the next.

The majority of the stone I have seen here is pink or pinkish gold. In Jerusalem, every building is at least faced with it, if not built of it entirely. Over this past weekend, I visited Akko, the northernmost Israeli city on the Mediterranean. During the crusades, it was the principal gateway to Jerusalem, even though there are over 100 miles between the two. Currently many of the historic sites for tourists in Akko are from this period.

Akko is the oldest continuously inhabited city in the region (I have heard this several times, but I'm not entirely sure which region they are talking about, Middle East or Mediterranean.) There are Egyptian records dating back to 2000 years ago which speak about the city of Akko. It is an important port city at the northern end of Haifa Bay.

The undercroft at the church of St. John the
Baptist in the crusader ruins and Akko.

And it was a great reminder of my Christian heritage. I often turn away from Christianity and the connection I have to it. Many of my experiences with Christians have been negative, but now I feel like I have to explore that side of my family and life. I need to learn more about my father's family and heritage.

Thinking about these things this weekend led me to the decision to attend Easter services in the the Old City. So next week, you can look forward to hearing about that!

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