by Eva van Loon
Powell River novelist, playwright, and poet Kaimana Wolff packed up an ancient laptop and disappeared for a month—to the poorest country in Central America. There she climbed El Cerro Negro, a live, black-lava volcano, explored the colonial city of Leon, suvived two bouts of amoebic dysentery (“new weight-loss program!”), visited a shade-grown, organic coffee plantation in the cloud forest atop the spine of the Americas (“Brr! Mountain-top nights!”), and spent enchanted evenings on the tropical sands of Las Penitas with, among others, a member of Nicaragua’s national academy of writers.
Having landed in a small slew of Canadian and other ex-pats in the little-frequented northwestern corner of the country, Wolff was soon enjoying a vigorous social life (translation: “The new book isn’t done yet.”). These new connections may create new sharings between Powell River and Nicaragua. Her new friend, playwright, novelist and poet Jorge Arguello, has charged her with finding a good translator (Spanish to English) for his sixth novel, The Flight of the Falcon. An old friend from Wolff’s Yukon days, magical arts administrator Chris Dray, now a rancher just above Las Penitas, is lending his arts expertise to the Community Heritage Publishing Project Powell River (CHPPPR). A New York muralist has expressed interest in working with kids in PR. And a group is forming to buy a small hotel in Las Penitas (also “Cheep cheep!”) which could serve as an artists’ retreat and “Center of Excellence” for art and literacy projects.
I worry through this Spring, usually the season of glad growth. Amid the familiar joys of burgeoning warmth, the perfume of fresh green shoots, and the welcome sight of deciduous trees getting decently dressed once more, I worry. My feet as always love the rediscovery of resilient dirt beneath them; yet heart and brain fret together, over thoughts no generation has ever thought before.
Hearing that the mason bees are out, I check the nest under the eaves and, sure enough, some have chewn their way out of their adobe condominiums to find a new life. This is joy…but I worry. They live only three weeks. There’s mud for them now in the yard, but no flowers. The ancient apple, the crippled cherry, and the teenage plum slumber on, leaves and blossoms as tightly furled as tomorrow. Nothing yet blooms—how will my bees survive?
I want to cry. I might be wrong; I might be right—it doesn’t matter. My hungry bees are a microcosm of the farmer’s hell—that sinking sense of powerlessness before nature. As climate change wreaks transformations, we stand to face legions of unconquerable alterations in patterns of growth, grueling tests of our ingenuity and endurance, beyond the imaginations of all our forebears. Read more »
by yazmin (a.k.a Miss Quirkyhearts)
It started with the stores’ immediate post-holiday, full-swing, Valentine’s-Day mode. I thought about writing cheeky comments about the joys of being single, even while realising this was bravado. Facing another one of those miserable days alone!
So, I began the research.
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James Howard Kunstler published an essay in February ‘07 suggesting ten ways to prepare for a post-oil society. We will have to do things differently, he said. We’ll have to stop focusing on how to run all our cars. We’ll have to produce food differently, inhabit the terrain differently, move things and people differently, entertain ourselves differently, and educate our kids differently.
Far from depressing me, Kunstler’s picture of the collapse of our familiar world cheered me up. Peak oil is, just maybe, a darned good thing--eventually. It will be difficult. But what if we viewed it as a positive evolution rather than a desperate attempt to hang on to our habits and structures? And these happy ideas arose, most of them feasible almost immediately.
1 Stop the noise! Stop the rush! Give yourself time for real life, basic life. Remember how silence nurtures; how nature heals.
2 Retire to a real community. Don’t put your precious money into an acreage, an “adult” community or a gated resort dependent on outsiders. Find a town you love and help it live. (Lucky we live Powell River!)
3 Walk, bike, or putter everywhere possible. Build time for the travel into your schedule, along with downtime to get to know your community.
4 Smile whenever you can. Read, pet other animals, play instruments and games, sing, and party with your neighbors. Smiling is healthy.
5 Find a spiritual practice that honors Gaia, mother of us all. Make it up if you can’t find one that fits. Do the practice, and teach your children well.
6 Grow and raise food. Have a veggie garden. Raise ducks or chickens. At least support your local organic farmers, those brave souls, regardless of cost.7 Plant at least as many trees per year as there are members of your household.
8 Buy only what you truly need, plus what you would forever regret not buying. Buy only products you can respect and trust while thinking about your great-great-great-great-great-grandchildren.
by Captain Paul Shepard
Earth Day has come and gone. One day of the year devoted to environmental concern—better than nothing?
Since 1968, the environmental movement has roller-coastered in popularity. In 1972, escalating human populations seemed the priority, but by 1992, that concern didn’t even make the agenda. When we warned of climate change twenty years ago, no one cared. Now, ecology’s in vogue again thanks to global warming. Big organizations are tapping the public for donations!
These organizations are too political to offer practical solutions. The solution is simple: live in accordance with the three basic laws of ecology.
First is the Law of Diversity. The strength of an eco-system lies in diversity of species within it. Weaken diversity and the entire system will ultimately collapse.
Second is the Law of Interdependence. All of the species within an eco-system are interdependent. We need one another.
The third law of Ecology is the Law of Finite Resources. The limit to carrying capacity implies limits to growth. Human populations now exceed ecological carrying capacity. This diminishes both resources and diversity of species. The diminution of diversity in turn causes serious problems with interdependence.
Einstein wrote, “If the bee disappeared off the surface of the globe, then man would have only four years of life left. No more bees, no more pollination, no more plants, no more animals, no more man.” That illustrates the Law of Interdependence. Forget global warming, folks. The disappearance of the honeybee could end our existence far sooner than we think.
The honey bee is disappearing. Why? We don’t know--perhaps genetically modified crops, or pesticides, or cell phones interfering with bees’ navigation. Around the world bees are disappearing in a crisis called Colony Collapse Disorder. Read more »