a buddhist perspective

We are living in a time of almost unimaginable change, a time in which our expectations are increasingly outpacing our world's ability to sustain them. How we face these changes has the potential to alter our future—for better or for worse. The following are a friend's thoughts, which she titled "A Cameo Appearance," on one possible outcome.

My heart has been so heavy with the slowly dawning understanding of the Earth’s peril. The bad news is all around me now. My grief has been devastating, and yet, with the help of Buddhist teachings, I have decided to look for the good news – because there is always another side to a problem. Good news – to see the hope and not the dark shadow of fear.

What good news can there be in this very hard time for the planet and its population?

Could it be that the apocalyptic conditions on earth will force us to wake up and face the truth of our actions? Could it be that this enormous danger will increase cooperation and force us to work together as a one-world community? We will be forced to allow creative entrepreneurship and inventiveness to succeed instead of feeding the greed of profiteers. Many wonderful ideas are being proposed to stop the downward slide of our world. Pockets of peace are still thriving and teaching us how to love the planet. It could be that this is the time for the “sinking boat” ethos to push us all together on this sinking planet.

Could it be that the great struggle for survival we are engaged in will trigger a mass consciousness rising and we will wake up in the dawn of the age of true peace that has been promised for all of us by many prophets over time?

 

"Like most people visiting Asia, I have experienced the constant dripping of a rain of epiphanies during my stays.  One of these occurred on a trip to Northern Thailand, as I was standing on the edge of a new friend’s yard.  I admired the grove of towering bamboo that edged her garden boundary, in a row so straight I could have marked it off with a piece of thread, with not a single trace of bamboo growing out into the road. 

‘How do you do that?’ I asked her.  ‘How do you keep the bamboo from growing all over the place, outside of your yard?’

‘Well, that’s easy,’ she replied.  ‘Everyone knows how good bamboo shoots are in their dinner.  The minute one shows its head outside of my garden, someone takes it home.’

‘Oh,’ I said, ‘In Canada we hack down the bamboo and throw it in the bushes and buy bamboo shoots in a can at the store.’

But that is what North America is all about.  We have been trained that if it is right in front of our face (e.g. free, accessible) it is somehow inferior, and that the only really good stuff is at the store." (Food Security for the Faint of Heart: Keeping Your Larder Full in Lean Times, by Robin Wheeler, pg. 95)

In North America, the lives are many people are those of abundance. Most North Americans living now have only known good times. Sure there have been some difficult times, but they didn't touch everyone and were soon forgotten. And so we believe the past is forever behind us and the future will be an ever-increasing expansion of technology and scientific developments. 

Our distant ancestors were hunter-gatherers. Our more recent ancestors were farmers. What are we? Consumers. We do not grow food. Nor do we know the wealth of food in the wild that surrounds us.  What we do know is "charge it."  And freezers and microwaves so we can eat the artificial convenience food we charged at the supermarket.

We pride ourselves on being educated and not needing to get our hands dirty as our ancestors did. We believe the good times will go on forever. And we push the past even further away.

We do not live in a sustainable manner because we believe dominion over the earth gave us the right to plunder it. We do not do without so there will be something left for future generations. We are living in a tiny bubble of unprecedented prosperity that cannot be sustained, because we are using up the world's resources.

We are hacking down the bamboo, throwing it in the bushes, and buying bamboo shoots in a can at the store.

 

For the past several months I have been going to the farmer's market in Goshen, the town just south of here. This past Saturday I went for my bi-weekly shopping. I live in an area that is next to one of the largest Amish areas in the US. There are also small farms scattered around the area so there is enough food grown even in winter to enable the market to stay open year round.

I could buy the food cheaper at a supermarket, but it wouldn't be the same food. The salad mix I bought from Kate who runs Sustainable Greens, which is just over the state line in Michigan, was picked the day before. Her micro mix is an assortment of spicy greens that adds a wonderful bite to my salads. I also got fresh asparagus from the Amish woman who I have been buying sweet potatoes from. A few months ago, I bought some hulled black walnuts from her. She cautioned me to be careful as they had been hulled by her elderly mother. (The walnuts were perfectly hulled without a trace of a shells.) She doesn't have any more sweet potatoes now, but I got some beautiful locally grown ones at the Maple City Market, the food co-op in Goshen.

Before leaving the farmer's market, I also bought some locally made cheese and fresh radishes. The tiny baby carrots (natural ones not the machine-produced ones sold at supermarkets) were not available this time but I had bought two batches last time and delighted in their colors and sweetness. I still had some eggs from the farmer who assured me he had no roosters so his free-range, naturally raised chickens only gave infertile eggs.

At the co-op I also bought Trader's Point Creamery raspberry yogurt. Located in central Indiana, Trader's Point's cows are pasture raised and are not given artificial hormones or antibiotics. Nor does the creamery use pesticides or artificial fertilizers on their land. The yogurt is wonderful and comes in glass bottles that are ideal for storing other foods when empty or for recycling.

I can't get greens like this at the supermarket. Or asparagus. Or raspberry yogurt.

At the supermarket, I can't talk to the farmers and ask how their food was raised. I can't buy dairy products secure in the knowledge the cows and chickens were raised humanely, and the land was treated with respect and in a sustainable manner. I can't buy food that was picked the day before at the height of its taste and food value, and which traveled not 1500 or even a few thousand miles, but merely ten or thirty or a hundred miles. I can't experience the joy of seeing that a favorite food is now in season and relish the taste made all the more enjoyable by its rarity.

But at the farmer's market and co-op, I can.

I can talk to the farmers. I can buy food raised for taste, not for its ability to travel great distances. I can eat dairy products knowing the animals were raised with care and respect. I can enjoy local foods knowing the land they grew on was carefully stewarded, not plundered until it was worthless. I can chat with the people standing next to me as we wait our turn to make our purchases. I can drive home, relaxed and happy in the knowledge that I did my very best to  "do no harm."

It's all about habits.

It's our habit to use the plastic and styrofoam utensils that are provided when we go to a snack bar or the continental breakfast at a motel. It's not our habit to carry a set of utensils and handkerchief with us when we know we'll be eating out.

It’s our habit to run to the store for a forgotten item whenever we please. It's not our habit to plan our meals for the week, make a list of everything we need from the drugstore, figure out what other errands we need to do, and then do everything in one trip.

It’s our habit to run the dishwasher when it’s only half full or do a partial load of laundry in hot water after having worn the clothing just once. It’s not our habit to conserve water and heating fuel by waiting for a full load of dishes or wearing our clothes a few times before washing them in cold water.

It’s our habit to buy what we want, the minute we want it. It’s not our habit to wait and see if we really even need it. Or can afford it.

We can think these new habits are inconvenient and a bother. We can justify our actions by saying we don't have time to get some reusable utensils, nor do we want to be thought of as a crazy environmentalist. We can tell ourselves that we have too many important things on our minds to not do something when we want to. We can say that one pair of shoes or another paper napkin won't make any difference. We can give ourselves any number of "reasons" for doing things in a way that is convenient for us. We may view all these conveniences as things we are entitled to.

We may not even think.

But we need to. We need to realize that we are all standing around a very large—but not bottomless—container of resources. Each time I reach in and take something out, there is a little less for everyone else.

We need to think about every action we take. We need to make new habits.

And we need to do so quickly, because every day we are getting closer to the bottom of that container.

A little over half of those who read this blog live in the US and Australia, the two countries with the largest average carbon footprint per citizen. A reasonable number of the remainder of readers live in countries that are not that far behind these two "leaders." So I believe most of us are in a position to understand what Sharon Astyk wrote on her Casaubon's Book a few days ago.

With kindergarten ethics there’s enough food for every person in the world to eat to fullness, enough water to have everyone drink their fill and still a bit more to grow good things.  There are fish enough in the ocean for each of us to celebrate and enjoy a lobster or fish dinner once in a while.  There’s enough oil in the wells for us to visit beloved family and friends on occasion, and hold a huge family reunion feast.  There are enough trees for each of us to sit in the shade - all 6.6 billion.  There’s enough wealth for all of us to have clothes enough and shoes and a little house.  There’s enough space for all of us to have public parks and most of us to have a little garden somewhere.  There’s enough.  Not as much as you or I might want, having gotten accustomed to more, but enough to make people in Nigeria cry out with delight.  Enough to impress your own great-grandparents. 

In our "kindergarten ethics" worldview, there is enough.

But really, is there "enough"? 

We have yet to break out of our self-focused world and to, instead, look at the world as others see it. It is comforting to think that others can live as we who are fortunate live, comforting to tell ourselves that there is enough for everyone. I count myself in this group, for I still also get hooked by established ways of perceiving the current world situation and thus fail to do all I can, and should.

We live in a world of technology with access to vast amounts of information: a world in which it is our responsibility as intelligent people living in democratic societies to learn the truth even when that truth is frightening or depressing. We live in a world where the Buddha taught to do no harm: a world in which it is our responsibility as ethical people who upon learning what harm is to refrain from doing it.

Frankly, kindergarten ethics is fine for children. But you and I are no longer children.

We are grownups and have the responsibility to act wisely and compassionately. Our practice as Buddhists is not to withdraw from the world and to look after just ourselves. Our practice is to take the strength we derive from our meditation and learning and, with that strength, to turn to face the world. Our practice is making the hard decisions; it is finding the courage to accept the reality that we share this world with almost seven billion people and an uncountable numbers of other beings. Practice is recognizing the suffering of others as acutely as we feel our own.

Practice is realizing that there is NOT enough for everybody—and acting accordingly.