January 25, 2012

On militant veganism and the environment

How does one balance the importance of a strong, personal belief with the overarching needs of an entire society? The answer to this question — if there is an answer — could very well decide whether the human race is able to pull back from the environmental brink we’ve landed ourselves upon. Specifically, I’m talking about the unwillingness I’ve seen in — what I hope is a few — certain sects of veganism. These folks believe that the way to salvation for both human health and the earth’s environment is to completely eliminate any dependent relationship humans have with animals. No dairy. No leather. Certainly no meat. The idea is that by doing so we will reduce the number of greenhouse gases (methane), increase the amount of usable land (less acreage used for corn), and improve human health. I don’t doubt that they’re right, but the cost of their proposed changes is too great.

From the very first fencepost humankind put down, we started ourselves on a path that is impossible to veer from or go back down. We are the only species in the animal kingdom who practices husbandry: the raising and caring for other species as a survival mechanism. To that end, we have altered or created new strains of domesticated animals through selective breeding practices and — less endearingly — kill-offs of entire species (Aurochs among others). While this has been largely successful, there are severe drawbacks that need to be corrected. Industrial farming has impersonalized the husbandry process and turned the slaughter of other species into nothing more than a step on an assembly line. It has produced more methane than we can contain. It has taken up large chunks of land for growing genetically altered corn to feed to these species. It has also placed the control of the world’s food supplies into the hands of the powerful and wealthy. Not to mention the small cages, deplorable living conditions for the animals, etc. So yes, there’s a serious problem here that needs a serious solution. Unfortunately, veganism isn’t it.

For one thing, we’ve got billions of animals to care for. If the vegans had their way we would no longer have a use for them, but then what? Release them into the wild where they endanger or destroy indigenous species or worse? Will the methane production cease because we no longer care for these creatures, or is it more likely to get worse as it will go completely unchecked. I’ve heard it suggested by a self-described vegan that the best solution would be to slaughter all of them. Because after all, killing millions of animals all at once in a bath of blood for no reason other than they’ve outlived their usefulness is far better than sitting by while they’re slaughtered for food. This is a problem that has to be solved.

My greatest concern is on the environmental side. For any environmental solution to be effective, it has to be adopted by a vast majority of humankind. Humans are pretty particular about “adopting” things. We want to be less wasteful, but not at the cost of our families, income, personal property, or freedoms. Militant veganism with its confrontational nature, its “do this or you’re wrong” attitude, and its lack of real solutions is not attractive to vast majority of us and can never succeed on the scale required.

It’s a totalitarian perspective on an issue too complex for black and white reasoning. Totalitarianism just doesn’t work. It’s unethical, inefficient, and it chafes. The same group of people who would tell us to stop listening to the “meat and dairy lobby” will in the same breath tell us to listen to only them. There’s a middle ground; however, and while it doesn’t keep us all from eating dairy and meat, it does seem to have a positive effect on our health, the environment, and the overall well-being of the species we’ve domesticated.

The practices of permaculture and localvore by themselves are effective ways of managing resources and health, respectively. If taken together I believe that the bulk of our environmental and health issues related to animal husbandry can be solved. Firstly, permaculture removes the concept of factory farming from our society. No longer would we see mile-long, stainless steel pens and slaughterhouses funded by the government and managed by the powerful, and centralized out of reach. Each family or community would be in charge of their own food production, no matter their location. It’s pure self-sufficiency. Some would choose a vegetarian lifestyle, others would not. Some might raise timber and barter for food or wool. Either way, we end up with closer communities, cleaner air and water, decentralized food production, and a serious reduction in the number of food-borne illnesses and health issues.

Localvore is the economic model and community promise that provides the motivation for permaculture practices. It is the practice of buying and eating a certain percentage of locally-grown foods. Some communities try to be 100% localvore, others shoot for a smaller percentage with an eye on increasing it over time. Whatever the current level of consumption, by choosing to purchase our food locally we reduce the necessity for government-subsidized farming, gain a vested interest in the husbandry methods our communities use, and support the self-sufficiency or oursleves, our neighbors, and our communities. All of the issues — other than the actual eating of meat and dairy — often raised by militant vegans are solved with these two philosophies practiced in tandem.

The species husbanded in this way have healthier, happier lives and are never killed without need. The humans in these environments feel closer to the natural law and order of things. The food — vegetable or animal — is cleaner and safer. The use of pesticides and genetically modified seeds is eliminated. This is a middle ground that works. There are communities doing this today and more are coming on board every year.

The environment and the caring thereof is one of the greatest weapons vegans have in their arsenal. By showing how industrial farming practices, government subsidies, and wasteful eating are affecting not only human health but the health of the planet, vegans have started a positive dialog. The healthier ones among them have shown how — with enough money in the right location — one can live free of meat and dairy. However, in order for that positive dialog to turn into positive action. In order for the people who can make a difference to stand up and change things, the totalitarian, all-or-none diatribes must stop. The cries of “flesh eater” and “food for pleasure” must stop. The hyperbole needs to be put away. It’s blocking the real issues that have real solutions. The problems of our society and our planet are larger than anyone’s personal belief system.

 

Filed under: thoughts — Sabin @ 10:39

November 1, 2011

Autistics in the mist, part one

Today I was awoken from a deep slumber by the older female. She had spent the night working on getting the perfect album ready for a series of photos of her children and husband. She hadn’t slept at all, and as of this writing is still awake. Her work on selecting, cropping, editing, and captioning the 14 photos had taken her most of four hours.

The last photo of a crow purchased from the local pharmacy apparently gave her a hard time, because she wanted me to help her with a caption. After loudly debating the subject for a few minutes, she finally typed in a phrase that she came up with on her own, pressed enter and slumped forward on her desk.

My time with these autistics in the mist may need to be much longer than my university’s initial understanding, but I will not leave while I can still try and understand their ways and my ever-evolving involvement with them. I find myself irrevocably drawn to them, and I fear that my closeness may endanger my ability to remain objective in my studies.

Filed under: autistics in the mist,family,thoughts — Tags: , , — Sabin @ 04:24

October 29, 2011

Runic template

In my rune research the other day, I followed a hypothesis that “eight” and “ætt” are cut from the same cloth. That there is more than phonetics connecting the two. It turns out that I wasn’t far off. Átta is the Old Norse word for the cardinal number eight, descended from átt which relates to directions (north, north-west, west, south-west, south, south-east, east, north-east). Also according to Cleasby-Vigfusson, certain writers would write átt and ætt indiscriminately which tells me that at some point they held the same meanings. In other words, during the development of the Old Norse language, the word that references the cardinal directions could have been the same as the word for family (though a comment in CV calls this “fanciful”, it is the only thing that explains the shared usage).For me, this was the trigger for further exploration.

We already know that the heavens are divided into eight segments (cardinal directions, as well as mythologically) for Norse Heathens. Add to that this idea of “family”, and we end up with an interpretation of ætt as a possible social compass (which I’ve seen mentioned in a few different places over the last month or so). A guidance given to us by our connection to our kin. This idea struck me as very powerful, and I started to re-examine the Elder Futhark with it in mind. Three rows of eight (átta). Each row referred to as an ætt.

When I started to replay the meanings of the runes with this idea in mind, I noticed a kind of story arc  from rune to rune. This idea had occurred to me before, too, but I figured I would stick with it this time and see what happend. Especially since it was a story arc that I was also noticing in my readings of Njal’s Saga and Egil’s Saga and that I had seen inklings of in the Havamal. In short, the order of the runes through the Elder Futhark can be seen as a template for living, as a model to follow in order to get the most out of Heathen life.

For example, the meaning of FEHU is clear as being about wealth, but wealth in a more transient mode — ie, pocket money — with a warning that it can spoil relationships (Gunnar returning from his adventures dressed in fine furs, Sigurd and his “river fire”: neither of which led to great happiness). Whereas the meaning of OTHALA is also wealth, but wealth that is able to be bequeathed to next of kin (what Flosi and Kari end up with at the end of Njal’s Saga). Wealth that is in the form of a stable home, family, inheritance. Even just looking at those two runes, we can start to see the beginnings of a story — from pocket money to transferable wealth — but can’t make much more out of it other than the idea that money now can become an inheritance later.

Looking at the Futhark in this light also helps with some of the more confusing interpretations. KENAZ is a great example of this. It’s a real puzzler. Across the three rune poems, it is represented as meaning three different things: a scab from a skinned knee or a battle scar, the weight of misfortune, or the lamp-lit safety of a cozy cottage. Looking at the rune by itself poses a challenge for interpretation — though it is possible, and most runesters ignore the Icelandic and Norwegian poems altogether. However, when looking at it from the point of view of ætt-as-story-arc, we can begin to see that KENAZ is the wound you live from and tell stories about. Especially coupled with RAIDHO to its left and GEBO to the right. H0w many sagas are there, heroic tales are there, that tell of a hero who goes on a journey (RAIDHO) only to return home with scars and stories (KENAZ) and gifts (GEBO) for his friends? And this continues through every row: each rune has a meaning that sets it as a particular place in a person’s life.

FEHU and OTHALA, KENAZ can all be viewed with this overarching idea, and so can the other 23 runes. Using this interpretation, each rune represents a moment or concept within the progression of one’s life. Either it is a moment that must happen in order to move forward, or it’s a moment that — if it does happen — has to be handled in a certain way or with a certain process.

The first row represents the arc of youth: get some money together (FEHU), prove yourself in tests (URUZ) and against strong opponents (THURISAZ). Journey off into the world and return with stories and gifts to the joy of your clan (WUNJO). The second row is the introspective process of middle age. It’s about internal needs (NAUTHIZ) and their relationship with the forces of nature (ISA) and how we control our interactions with them (PERTHRO). The third row is old age, then. Great sacrifice starts it off (TIWAZ) and there are images of rebirth (BERKANO) and renewal (reconciliation? retirement?), connections with other people (MANNAZ) in a more profound way than before, and then the end. OTHALA and our ability to bequeath some legacy to the next generation’s youth. Obviously there are runes I’m not mentioning, but you get the idea.

Once we have a template, we can do all kinds of things with it. We can use it as a guide for our children, we can use it as a foundation on which to build a society. We can even use it as a map to find ourselves if we’re feeling lost or as a guide to what might be coming up next. I’m using it as a way of trying to find more accurate interpretations of each rune’s meaning. It makes sense that a society priding itself on wordplay, wisdom, and storytelling would have developed a system like this. Given that, I feel comfortable continuing in this vein in the hopes of putting more of the pieces together.

I’ve got a lot more work to do with this line of work, but I figured I would share what I’ve got so far in the hopes we can all help add to the collective thought and work towards recreating so much of what has been lost over the years.

Filed under: philosophy,runes,thoughts — Tags: , , , , — Sabin @ 23:54

September 26, 2011

Perfect day

I don’t normally post during working hours, but since I’m at lunch I figured I would make an exception. As you may have guessed by the title, today is perfect. It’s early autumn here in Vermont, the sun is shining in the glaringly orange/yellow way it does this time of year. The leaves are changing to palettes of red and orange and purple. But it’s not just the weather.

This morning my wife wanted to take a drive to get some breakfasty foods, so we did. All along route 15 and back we chatted while our kids sat in the back. Camellia giggling and counting her toes or shoes or whatever it is toddlers count. Gabe leaning against his window, brooding in that kind of joyful way that only a 12-year old can pull off. Perfect. The mist rose from the Lamoille River valley and we talked about this and that, something and everything.

To be able to start my days this way is joy. My family near me as often as possible is joy. I’m just glad I’m here.

Filed under: thoughts,vermont — Tags: , , — Sabin @ 11:58

September 25, 2011

From a comment to a translation of KENAZ

In the process of posting to a blog (http://heksebua.com/linda/2011/09/rok-runes-6-kaun/), I made a breakthrough in my attempt at trying to come to terms with KENAZ.

This has been a tricky one because the Old Norwegian and Old Icelandic poems talk about wounds while the Anglo Saxon talks about safety and light inside a cabin.

For the Old Norwegian poem, I had translated it as this: “Scab is a bending child; misfortune makes pale humans”. Literal, to be sure, but implies bending from pain and does indeed imply that death can come from misfortune.

The puzzle with this one is the similarity between Icelandic and Old Norwegian, but the vast difference in the Anglo-Saxon version. A well-lit cabin is very different than infection and pain caused by a wound.

This is where I start to ask myself contextual questions. Wounds when survived are talking points, triggers for stories around a fire. As with most runes, I think there’s a story — instead of simple meaning — with this one. It’s about adversity.

A child’s scrape from playing is a mark of their passing through life, a battle wound is a mark of passing through adult life, and then you can sit around the fire and tell the stories. KAUN (KENAZ) then is the adversity or pain itself and the surviving of that pain and a reminder that we should remember what we’ve been through to get where we are.

This is also in keeping with the progression of the Elder Futhark from FEHU to OTHALA.

Anyhow, I’m glad there are others out there working these through. It’s going to take all of us to reclaim the information the runes represent. Thanks for allowing the space for commentary.

Filed under: philosophy,runes,thoughts — Tags: , , , , — Sabin @ 10:03

July 14, 2011

Victor Densmore reads on July 22nd, 2011

Every month, the Jeudevine Memorial Library hosts a reading of local poets at the Memorial building here in Hardwick, VT. My dad, Victor Densmore, is normally the co-host of these events. During the third week of July, however, he will be reading his work as one of the guests of honor.

The reading comes at a good time for both him and fans of his work. His first book, Out of the Hermit’s Meadow and Wood, will be entering a second printing in August and he is hard at work on a second book of 100 or so more poems.

If you’re interested in supporting my dad, or are a fan of good poetry, I encourage you to come out to the reading in Hardwick on July 22nd. It starts at 7 p.m. If you can’t make the reading, then please consider taking a look at his book on lulu.com and helping to support him as a writer. If you’re unable to do that, then feel free to drop a note here or share his book with people you know. He deserves all the readership we can help build for him. I know he’s my dad and some of you will think I’m just saying this, but he really is one of the best poets I’ve ever read.

Within the next couple of weeks, we will be releasing a form for people to pre-order a copy of his second book. All pre-orders will be signed and numbered in the same way he did for his first title. Also, we are looking to broaden the market of his books beyond lulu.com and a handful of local stores. I will be talking about that more in this space soon.

 

July 10, 2011

Even Scottish cows eat haggis

The area between the house and the back woods used to be used as a pasture back when my dad was a boy here. Cows and horses grazed it. When I was a boy, our neighbors ran their horses there. What used to qualify as a pasture can now be considered nothing less than a wilderness meadow. Sweet Bedstraw, Milkweed, Goldenrod, Wild Strawberries, Moss, Alders are all competing for space and pushing out the grass and alfalfa that used to hold so much sway.

While mowing yesterday, I produced quite a lot of mulch from this mix of wild growth and human-designed plantings and wondered what kind of animal — if any — could eat it. Danielle and I would love to get some Icelandic sheep to graze out there. We’ve recently started thinking about — at least I have — having some kind of cow (though a lactose-intolerant family would lead me to believe that perhaps a goat would make more sense) out there. So what kind of animals could survive on such a wild mix of crap? According to my dad not any kind of cow except a particular kind of Scottish breed. As I thought about that, it struck me as funny. So funny, in fact, that the following scene has been playing through my head since yesterday morning. I imagine a breakfast session in our back pasture might go something like this: (with honor to Danny Bhoy).

Morning on the farm. The sun rises above the northeastern woods. A few cows and sheep graze passively in the meadow.

Holstein (munching on straw and hay): Mmmm. I love this clover and grass here. It’s so good. Yum yum light tasty breakfast.

Icelandic (chewing contentedly on a string of moldy roots): Mmph. Ya pansy.

Ayershire (coming in with a giant wad of grassy, weedy, seedy stuff): Aye, sheep. That’s no way ta start tha day, Holstein.

Holstein: Ew. What’s that ball of sloppiness you’re chewing on?

Ayershire: It’s “graggis”. My mum used ta make it for me every mornin’ when I was a wee calf. Goldenrod, grass, moss, alder sprouts all wrapped up in a milkweed leaf. Wanna bite, lass?

Holstein: Heavens, no!

Ayershire: Suit yerself. Oi, sheep! Wanna a taste o’ the graggis?

Icelandic (spitting a mouthful of something out): Ya! That sounds fantastic. It will go well with this moldy squashroot.

Holstein: …

 

July 3, 2011

Pulling magic from the land at Achenmead West

Our garden is coming along slowly compared to some others I’ve seen. We’ve planted squash — perhaps far too much of it — beets, corn, parsnips, chamomile, sage, thyme, rosemary, lavender, nasturtiums, blueberry bushes, parsley, calendula, and a few other herbs I’ve forgotten. I still haven’t gotten the zucchini, salad greens, carrots, tomatoes, or any of the other traditional veggies planted. I’m feeling a little lazy about that. Also, it’s a little disconcerting to see the meadow continue to creep into our planting space. Why milkweed, Bishop’s Weed, Sweet Bed Straw, Goldenrod and a thousand other species of “weeds” thrive while the stuff we want to eat doesn’t is beyond me at this point. Granted, there are some species out there that I normally value for potential herbal remedies, but still. They could at least stay out of our veggies. So did I use today’s sunshine and get a head start? No. I watched Rollerball.

Some days — like today — it seems so overwhelming to go and try and put my imprint on nature. Who am I, after all? This land we’re stewarding has been here far longer than the house has and will be here long after we’ve gone, too. For some reason, though, I feel an urge to try and convince this land to allow us some modicum of control over its tendencies: veggies here, pasture there, wood trees up there, maple trees on that side. I think in the long run the land will concede somewhat but so far it’s a struggle, the garden patch being a microcosm of the entire property.

By no means am I giving up or relinquishing any of my desire — from where ever that comes — to gain sustenance and support from this little piece of Vermont. Not at all. In fact, when I think about watching Rollerball for a fifth time, I feel myself willingly drawn to the encroaching meadows, invasive poplars and elders, and scarcely-growing vegetables to try once again to exert our vision.

 

Filed under: hardwick,thoughts,vermont — Tags: , , , , , , , — Sabin @ 03:14

June 8, 2011

Heathenism in the 21st century

Kind of a short post here, but the sentiment is from my heart: stop creating “Heathen” groups. It doesn’t make any sense.

Heathenism is powerful because of its decentralized and unorganized nature. Families on disparate farms had their own ways of tracking and marking holidays, prayer and sacrifice were — for the most part — individualistic (Uppsala was a huge center for worship where yearly feasts were held, however, and is an example of there being some kind of organization). Part of this decentralized nature could be attributed to regional weather, travel difficulties, distances between farms, perhaps; though it must be said that if any group of people took to travel, the Northern Europeans did. I think, though, that the greater proportion of reason for a lack of centralization lies in the very nature of what Heathenism is.

To be a Heathen is to simply be. To live as a human and get the most out of each day. To strive forward and live with a code of ethics based on honor. To care for your family and friends, to help your neighbors if they need it, to treat each day as though it could be your last. To be a Heathen is to enjoy the hell out of living. You don’t need an organization and weekly meetings and reading assignments to do that.  In fact, it’s better to start your own kindred among your family and close friends. Share old heathen stories with each other, vent about the work day, make a good meal, revel in your shared and personal existences. Work together to understand your place in the scheme of things, and let your common sense guide you in how you will represent heathenism to your neighbors and community.

The constant influx and arguments from the neo-Heathens about which organized group best represents “true” Heathenism is absurd. Those are the arguments for Christians, not for us. There’s no need for a Heathen Martin Luther with his 99 points. Each kindred is going to have different needs, experiences, and expectations out of life. There’s just no way or need to force all of those people to follow the same tenets, rituals, rules, etc. If you must have an example, look to the philosophers.

Existentialism in its simplest form is Heathenism. The understanding that our reason for being here may never be known, that there is no universal moral compass, that we are in charge of our own destinies and decisions. There is great freedom in these things. Great freedom and tremendous responsibility and room for error. These are the foundations upon which an ethical and powerful life can be built if one chooses to do so. These are the foundations of Heathenism. Unfortunately, attaching yourself to a pre-fab neo-Heathen group’s not going to help you. It’s going to turn you into a sheep who cowers from the adventure of free choice, who follows instead of leads. A sheep who might as well be Christian. This is something we each have to find and understand on our own.

So in closing, there’s nothing wrong with a good bonfire a few times (or more) a week, some good mead or beer to clear the head, and a few raucous cries to the heavens in case the gods are listening. Just don’t let anyone else tell you when or how you should do it. Make your own noise as you barrel through life. Laugh at your troubles. Brace yourself for the challenges. Live full and proud and as long as you can. It’s what life is for, after all.

 

April 12, 2011

Spring is breaking through

Here at Achenmead West, spring is starting to finally show itself in recognizable ways: the grass is showing brown and damp from beneath the heavy snow, small birds are flitting about and ravens are hovering above, the driveway is a nearly impassable run of foot-deep mud. Early spring in Vermont: two parts delight, one part slimy brown mud.

Before I get into that, though, I feel I should explain “Achenmead West”. It’s my dad’s name for the 10 acres we live on here in Mackville — an old village within the town of Hardwick. He takes the name from the mythical location of the Densmore family back in Scotland circa 1630 or so. The story goes that a Laird Dinsmoor lived in Achenmead and had two sons. The younger ran off to Northern Ireland and eventually had children who made it to New England. While the hunt for the factual Achenmead — Auchenmade is perhaps a candidate — continues, my dad felt that the legend was enough to lend name to the land here.

While I think that the naming of the land was partially a joke or at least tongue-in-cheek on my dad’s part, it still gives a great deal of credence to this house and the land around it. Here is where my dad grew up with his mother and father and grandfather; here is where I grew up with my mother and father; here is where my son and daughter are growing up with their mother, father, and grandfather. There’s a cycle of history within the last few generations around this place and to give it a name that hearkens back to pre-family times that cycle is strengthened and made clearer. This is my father’s land as it was his father’s land. I continue the cycle as its current steward — I’m in no hurry to own it, just in case any wights are reading this — and the name gives all of that a reason to tell the story.

A farm of your own is better, even if small,
everyone’s someone at home;
though he has two goats and a coarsely roofed house,
that is better than begging.

Cattle die, kinsmen die,
the self must also die;
I know one thing which never dies:
the reputation of each dead man.

The power of the place and of having a place of our own. Stories of family, of names of land, of histories of homes all lend to building the reputation of all of us. Here in Mackville in Hardwick is Achenmead West staking a humble claim to these 10 acres. What stories might be told about it and its residents in the future? What stories do we want told about it? Those future stories are our current lives. We make them as we live.

Filed under: hardwick,thoughts,vermont — Tags: , , , , , — Sabin @ 10:38

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