Losing the plot. Finding a new one.

“When she transformed into a butterfly, 

the caterpillars spoke not of her beauty, but of her weirdness. 

They wanted her to change back into what she always had been. 

But she had wings.”

~ The Poetry of Oneness

I've been thinking a lot lately about what I'm doing here. Not in terms of my day-to-day functionality -- I have a 'to do' list two pages long that keeps me on track there. But the bigger picture, zoom out/wider lens framing. More existential stuff. The kind of thinking that happens when your world gets turned upside down and you're faced with the question, "Now what?" The kind of thinking that happens when you're trying to write a book and you're faced (every damn day) with the question, "What's my story?"

I moved to the farm six years ago because I wanted to extricate myself from the dominant culture that is killing our planet and ourselves through reckless production and senseless consumption. To create space where I could live a life of meaning and connection. To take the path less chosen. Inspire others to do the same. I wanted to make a difference. To be able to look into the eyes of my kids and their kids (if that comes to pass) and say, "I tried."

But is that enough?

We live in a culture that craves quick fixes and easy solutions. To ask the big questions, make life-changing decisions, to fight against the overwhelming pressure to conform is exhausting. And at times terrifying.

It's easier not to recognize the gravity of our situation. The fact that much of our western civilization is built on a regime of unsustainable growth and appropriation of "others." And the very corporations and governments that perpetuate this madness offer top 10 lists and simple solutions to save the planet and preserve our comfortable existence. Absolve ourselves from personal responsibility. Keep up with the status quo. Defend our smartphones, SUVs and cruise ships to exotic locales.

As Derrick Jensen says, we've all been greenwashed:

"One way this culture gets people is with the delusion -- "If I just consume less and less, I won't be contributing to the death of this planet. If I wear out my recycled shoes and skip showers, then I won't be part of this destruction." But the salmon don't care about your purity and your lifestyles choices, they care if there are dams and fish farms… So when they tell you to take a shorter shower, it's prestidigitation. It's a magic trick -- sleight of hand. They're trying to make you think, "If I take a shorter shower I can make things OK."

He also writes about our cultural refusal to confront reality: "We're facing the death of the planet and nobody's panicking?... There's a line in a book by Eduardo Galeano that, "The legislature voted that reality doesn't exist." Congress is debating climate change this year. They're going to vote that reality doesn't exist. The narcissism in this culture kills me. It kills everyone."

It would be much easier to give up, sell out, move back. This piece of earth has provided me with a place to grow roots, but at times those roots feel like anchors. The work is relentless. There is always something that needs doing, fixing, tending. There are personal ramifications to this life. I lost a 20-year relationship, in part, over my beliefs, my differences. Divergent paths. There are times (most days) when I feel strong and powerful for choosing to stay, to keep fighting for this life, and there are other days when I feel utterly alone. Disconnected. And yet the idea of leaving is soul destroying.

The person I've become is inextricably woven into the fabric of this place. I no longer feel that the farm belongs to me, but I belong to the farm. It is my refuge and my prison. It has seeped into my very being. I am its caretaker and its mistress. There are times I yearn to escape this place and yet when I'm gone I realize how much I need it. I have purpose here.

But again I ask, is that enough? Or perhaps the true question is, am I doing enough?

I grow vegetables and plant trees and raise animals in a way that respects and celebrates their innate beingness. I do so to rage against the industrial machine that poisons our water, our earth, our air and our sense of humanity. But I do this work quietly. And because of that these actions can seem so inconsequential. 

Am I, too, suffering from the delusional belief that this will make things OK?

I've created a place of refuge from the world but one that is small and separate from the community that I long to connect with. This place is becoming an expression -- an extension -- of me but it could be so much more than that. But that takes letting people in, opening myself up, becoming vulnerable.

Admitting that I don't know what I'm doing. But I'm doing it anyway.

My relationship to this place and my role in it is constantly shifting and evolving. I came here as a borderline militant vegan and now (though still vegetarian) I raise animals for meat. I ask so many questions, both practical and ethical, and offer so few answers. I read work that I wrote when I first moved here and I blush at the naivieté. The rose-coloured glasses. But have I allowed wisdom and experience to become stand-ins for hunger and conviction, corralled possibility into something more safe and manageable?

And as for my writing:  the world is such a messy, complex place and I abhor being yet another voice that offers simple solutions. And so I let my thoughts steep, like my daily pots of strong tea, waiting for some definitive answer that never comes. Too often I bite my tongue, swallow my words, leave things unsaid. Succumb to fear. Not fear of difference or stepping out from the crowd, but fear of being judged for being wrong. Or much worse, a hypocrite. There is still a large chasm between my intentions and my actions. Who am I to tell people to wake the fuck up, get over yourselves and do something real?

Then again, who am I not to be? I am a person who feels and experiences this life deeply. Passionately. I fall head over heels, lead with my heart first, then with my head. When I fall, I fall hard. Desperately so. But when I take risks and allow myself to let go of the fear and the conditioning and the criticism for being "too much" (or conversely "not enough") I can feel my wings stretching. Then I fly.

Just say no to GMO

Their future is depending on it.

Stop GM Alfalfa

I try to keep politics off my blog. These pages are meant to be an online diary of sorts, to document my attempts at a "simpler" life, not a soapbox for my (many) rants about our broken food and farm systems.

But I've ranted before and I'll do it again. Like right now...

While only (only?) four genetically modified (GM) crops are currently grown in Canada -- canola, corn, soy and sugar beets -- there will be soon be a fifth, if Monsanto and Forage Genetics get their way. That's why we need to stop the release of GM alfalfa -- the first genetically modified perennial crop to be introduced in Canada.

Alfalfa, popularly known as the "Queen of Forages" is the most important widely grown forage crop in Canada. In 2011, alfalfa was produced on over 25 million acres of farmland, or 30% of Canada's cropland.* It serves a variety of functions -- it's grown in mixed stands with other grass species then harvested and stored for high-quality hay or haylage for dairy, beef cattle and sheep; organic farmers (who can't use chemical herbicides or nitrogen fertilizers) use it as green manure in crop rotations to help build nitrogen levels, increase soil aeration, as well as outcompete weeds; and when planted in pure stands it's used for seed production.

In 2005, Monsanto received regulatory approval for glysophate-tolerant (aka Roundup Ready) alfalfa in Canada, and the Canadian Food Inspection Agency (CFIA) and Health Canada approved Roundup Ready Alfalfa (RRA) for environmental release, animal feed and human consumption. But before the crop can be commercialized and sold in the marketplace, seed varieties need to be registered as per the Seeds Act, which in itself is a convoluted and classified process that takes place with no public consultation or disclosure.

The Canadian Seed Trade Association (whose members include Monsanto and Forage Genetics International, the U.S. forage seed company that has applied the Roundup Ready technology to alfalfa) is developing a "coexistence" plan for GM and non-GM alfalfa hay so that farmers can continue to serve both organic and conventional markets (though contamination from GM alfalfa will threaten our export markets). But alfalfa is an insect-pollinated, perennial crop and nature cannot be contained; it is pure corporate hubris to think otherwise.

According to a new report from the Canadian Biotechnology Action Network (CBAN), "If GM Roundup Ready alfalfa is registered and commercialized in Eastern Canada, the flow of genes and traits from GM to non-GM alfalfa will be unavoidable."

We have already seen the disastrous results of GM flax and GM canola contamination across Canadian farmland. What's more, as more GM varieties are registered, fewer non-GM varieties become available.To add insult to injury, if patented GM seeds are found in an organic farmer's saved seed, that farmer can be sued for patent infringement. And the incidence of glyphosate-resistant weeds is growing; another Roundup Ready crop will only accelerate the development of resistant weeds.

Farmers will lose both money and markets if GM alfalfa is released. But if you think this is just a farmer issue, consider this: if GM alfalfa is released, organic farmers will lose an important high-protein animal feed. Without access to GM-free forage, what will happen to your organic meat and dairy?

As Wendell Berry famously said, "eating is an agricultural act." This assault on family farms affects us all.

To learn more or to get involved with the "Day of Action to Stop GM Alfalfa" on April 9th, visit CBAN's website.

* From CBAN's "The Inevitability of Contamination from GM Alfalfa Release in Ontario: The Case for Preventing the Introduction of Roundup Ready Alfalfa" (April 2013)

Small farmers fighting back

Sorry for the absence lately. Besides too much desk work, I (alongside a veritable army of passionate supporters) have been helping a farmer friend try to save her flock of rare breed sheep from being slaughtered by the Canadian Food Inspection Agency (CFIA) under the government's scrapie eradication program -- even though the sheep have so far tested negative for any disease.

The 41 Shropshire sheep, including 20 pregnant ewes due to lamb in a month, were supposed to be confiscated from her farm on Monday, but when the CFIA arrived the sheep were already gone -- stolen.

(To read the backstory, I've been sharing the details about the order to destroy, Monday's rally, the theft and the ensuing press reaction on the Rowangarth Farm Facebook page.)

I hope to eventually write down my thoughts about this madness in a more cohesive and comprehensive way (not yet though -- I'm far too mad and emotional, and this kind of issue requires input from the head, not just the heart) because it's not just about my friend's farm and her flock, or even this particular breed of sheep -- this kind of heavy-handed government action is destroying the lives of small farms across Canada and the United States.

To highlight just one: I recently read about the Baker family of Baker's Green Acres in Michigan whose farm is under attack because the U.S. government has designated the heritage free-range pigs they raise as "feral." Let me repeat: the government has said the pigs they raise are in fact feral, and are thus a risk to crop growers. This kind of action isn't to protect farmers -- it's to protect industry, as in Big Ag.

(For more information on the Michigan Department of Natural Resources actions under an Invasive Species Order, go here or here. This second page also features a YouTube video of the farmer, Mark Baker, sharing his story.)

While governments profess to be supporting small farmers, these kinds of actions -- and any regulations that make it impossible for farmers to grow, process or market their products without intrusive bureaucratic interference (for example, the loss of local, small-scale abattoirs is making it increasingly difficult for farmers, especially organic ones, to have their livestock butchered, and it is still illegal for farmers to sell raw milk despite increasing consumer demand) -- only serve to destroy and "depopulate" small farms.

And it's not just the loss of small farms that is at stake here: biodiversity is lost, consumer choice is lost, food sovereignty is lost, personal freedoms are lost.

When I first started posting news updates on my personal Facebook page, a few friends expressed concern thinking that I was the one under attack. I told them no, it's not me -- but it could be. It could be any small farmer. And that means it should be everyone's problem.

Why small farms matter

I just finished writing my "Editor's Message" for a farming publication that I, uh, edit, and I thought I'd share it here simply because I think the message is important. I also think that everyone should go see this new film...

* * *

I recently saw a new documentary "To Make a Farm” by filmmaker Steve Suderman. It follows five young people through a year growing food and raising animals on their small-scale CSA farms.

It’s a beautiful feel-good film and I was moved, uplifted and inspired by the passion, dedication and drive of these new(ish) farmers to grow food, steward the land and connect with their communities despite challenges that would test the most seasoned farmers.

After the film there was a brief Q&A with Suderman and two local farmers. While the consensus was that the film was both cinematically beautiful and inspiring, a few audience members dismissed these farmers as “romantic idealists” -- while it was great that these “city folk” wanted to move to the country, farm and save the world, could it make a difference on such a small scale? Was it realistic? Was it enough?

I didn’t respond at the time but on the drive home I ruminated about what I wish I’d said. And here it is:

Passion and idealism drive many people to their profession, be it doctors who want to save lives or lawyers who want to right wrongs or teachers who want to enrich children’s minds -- why must it be different for farmers?

While coming from a long line of farmers, or growing up on a farm, has its advantages, I don’t think either is a prerequisite for farming. Farming isn’t a birthright, it’s a choice, and the fact that city folk are deliberately choosing this life is something to be celebrated. In fact, it’s young farmers who are essential to the future of agriculture. Even if idealism brought them to the land, it’s clear-sighted realism about the benefits (and costs) of this life that enables them to stay there.

Yes, small-scale farming is physically demanding. It’s work that tests the body, mind and spirit. But as Wendell Berry writes, “We must learn to think of human energy, our energy, not as something to be saved, but as something to be used and to be enjoyed in use. We must understand that our strength is, first of all, strength of body, and that this strength cannot thrive except in useful, decent, satisfying, comely work.”

Farming is filled with risk and uncertainty, but it’s also transformative and joyful. (Ed note: I referred readers to two stories in the magazine that don't have much relevance here, so this sentence was actually much more interesting and relevant that it sounds.)

I’m not saying small farms are the solution to the complex challenges we face related to agriculture and food production, but they are one solution -- and one that shouldn’t be dismissed solely on scale.

So to those skeptics in the movie theatre, I’d say that for the local communities that are savouring the food grown by these farmers, for the land and animals that thrive under their care, and for the future farmers who are inspired to follow a similar path, “It’s enough.”

photo credit: Tarrah Young of Green Being Farm

Say 'no' to Monsanto seeds

Blogger Erin at "garden now -- think later!" just posted a link to this list of seeds owned by Seminis/Monsanto, which includes everything from beans to watermelon. Every gardener, farmer and eater needs to know about this list.

Monsanto, the world's largest seed and biotechnology company, has a long evil history of terrorizing food growers and seed savers in the company's effort to control the global seed market.*

Whoever controls the seeds, controls the food. Our food.

So before you order your spring seeds, check out this list. Then source from seed companies that sell only Monsanto-free seeds and stay away from these varieties. Seeds should be the building blocks for a robust and healthy food system, not profit-making corporate commodities.

Sourcing heirloom and open-pollinating varieties of seeds is a simple but powerful way to challenge food dictators and biopirates and reclaim food democracy. Put your money where your mouth is. Source, grow and save patent-free, chemical-free, GE-free seeds. Join this grassroots revolution and just say "no" to Monsanto.

"It is not inevitable that corporations will control our lives and rule the world.
We have a real possibility to shape our own futures.
We have an ecological and social duty to ensure that the food that nourishes us is not a stolen harvest."

~ Vandana Shiva, author of "Stolen Harvest: The Hijacking of the Global Food Supply"

* For a great read on why to keep Monsanto out of your veggie patch, visit "A Garden for the House" here.

A rant

"Well-behaved women seldom make history."
~ Laurel Thatcher Ulrich

My brain is buzzing with about a thousand thoughts this morning. I'm often one to embellish, but today that figure actually seems like an underestimate. Last night I attended a lecture on the future of food and farms and while I was hoping to be inspired, turns out I was outraged.

While some of the information presented was interesting, too much of the nitty-gritty was platitudes, generalizations and even deflections, especially when the speakers were asked to address burning issues such as GMOs, international trade agreements, barriers to entry for the next generation of farmers (it costs a new farmer $1 million to buy a dairy quota, which simply gives him or her the authorization to sell milk -- you still need to buy the land, the cows, the equipment and so on!) and national policies (or the lack thereof) regarding farm succession, land access and the growing, processing and selling of food produced on small farms.

Outrage is a valid response, but hysterical over-reaction is not. That's where education comes in. Since moving to the farm, I've maintained that our lifestyle isn't for everyone: no one can or should be moving to the country to become more self-sufficient. But I think we're all responsible for educating ourselves about just how broken our industrial food system is -- then demanding that policy makers do something different. While I understand that not everyone cares as much as about small farms as I do, we should all care about our food and by extension, where it comes from.

I've always felt compelled to 'make a difference' and since the birth of my children, most of my energy has been directed fulfilling this purpose through them; simply by raising them in a loving and secure home that tries to tread lightly on this earth and maintain a reverence, respect and appreciation for the natural systems that sustain us. I still stand by that belief and it is the force that grounds and inspires me to do better, be better, for they are the ones who will inherit our planetary mistakes, as well as our triumphs.

But I also have a voice -- one that can perhaps incite or inspire change beyond the borders of our farm. Perhaps it's time to start using it.*

* I don't know if these are thoughts I will share on this blog or perhaps I'll start another one for my rants and revelations. I just had to get this one off my chest. Stay tuned...

Knitting therapy

Yesterday I had a Bad Day. There was no catastrophic event or anything; just a series of small horrible ones... work bothers, family spats, a bad case of mummy guilt and a soupy mucky flooded mess in the barnyard brought on by two days of monsoon-like rain/slush/sleet.

The children were away at school and I was feeling a wee bit sorry for myself. So I threw a pity party. While some women turn to drink or chocolate, I stoked up the woodstove, brewed a big pot of strong tea, turned on some music and knit.


At least it was a productive pity party.