by Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg
This piece was originally published in Home! A Bioregional Reader, edited by Van Andruss, Christopher Plant, Judith Plant, and Eleanor Wright, New Society Publishers, copyright 1990.
At a Kansas Area Watershed Council winter camp many years ago, we decided to have a sweat lodge in a cave halfway up a cliff. The only place to heat the rocks was a long walk away, and the only way to transport them was to form a human chain around the cliff and pass a dutch oven hand over hand. Although the temperature by daylight was unusually warm for December, by the time the rocks were hot enough, winter had returned. Eventually, we filled the center of the cave with glowing rocks, undressed, and poured water on the rocks. Unfortunately, we didn’t realize that the cave had a large opening that would suck all the steam out. Sitting naked in 30-degree weather in a central Kansas cave, we did the only thing we could—we laughed and howled!
Still, the experience brought us the gift of a story that gives our group a sense of its history and of the future. Hand over hand, we pass the weights, we distribute the work, we share the food, we hold each other. Bioregionalism, to become a more common reality for all, tells such a story. How we care for one another, child or adult, animal or plant or rock, is what determines what we learn about our lives here and of the future.
Starting bioregional organizations is the easy part. Sustaining them, like sustaining any good friendship or marriage, is what tries our souls.
We have made certain choices to come together—to work in community for the sake of community. Whether it be our interests in alternative agriculture, midwifery, prairie restoration, or insuring the rights of animals or people, bioregionalism is the common book of the future we write together. And it’s a book that hopefully will hold the names of our children and of their children. After all, bioregionalism is about sustainability above all else. This movement intricately links our lives to the rhythms of the ecosystems in which we live, and teaches us how to live as stewards of our homes, respectful of the environment to the point that we devote our works and words to preservation and restoration of the earth long after we’re buried in it.
Luckily, the earth grants us endless opportunities to learn to live in our place while honoring the past and striving for a balanced future. Plants blossom and go dormant, animals hunt and hibernate, clouds form and disperse. All around us the earth is always moving, and through that motion, perpetuating itself in every aspect. Hopefully, the bioregional organizations we form and sustain are no different. Using the earth as a model, we continually learn to honor the processes of growth and change and the range of diversity within our groups. And in doing so, we perpetuate the human manifestation of a healthy ecosystem.
We cannot afford to ignore the issue of how to sustain ourselves as we proceed, and how to sustain the groups in which we work. This process is often the most tedious and heartbreaking because it requires us to open our private lives up to change and growth and to examine our behavior and response, our egos, our desires, our limitations.
We all need to be continually mindful of the importance of long meals and walks together, of recognizing the value of unscheduled time at events. Too often we get so involved in doing the “work” that our time together is like that of a parent who works 80 hours a week coming home to spend a few hours of “quality time” with his or her child. We cannot afford to offer each other only the scraps of our energy; indeed, we deserve the best of one another’s love, a love rooted in community and commitment to deal as openly and patiently as we can possibly stand with each other.
Beyond our need to sustain each other, we must look to the future. Here the common link of our children (and I mean collectively more than individually) affords us the true opportunity of caring for the earth for the long run. We have learned the hard way at KAW: that we must incorporate children more into our events. At first we didn’t place much of an emphasis on children; many adults avoided signing up for childcare, and either the kids ran wild (certainly appropriate at times) or had to learn excess patience with adults buried in meetings. We now focus on incorporating children’s activities into the heart of the event (and, to be honest, we hire quality child-caretakers for the arteries of the events).
As the kids in KAW grow older, they’re starting to take more interest in planning their own activities. In a few years, with many of them teenagers, perhaps they’ll meet on their own and with us to plan more and more of the events we sponsor. Already at the camps, they usually have their own sweat. Sometimes we hear them singing school songs or KAW songs or just giggling. Whatever they do in their sacred spaces, although certainly influenced by us, is their business and our future. At best, we give them time and space to understand their vital role in caring for the earth as well as the direction and support for handling the responsibility of that understanding.
One of the triumphs of NABC III was the way the All-Species Projects involved and motivated children to take some ownership of the ideas of bioregionalism. If they can feel they own these ideas and ideals, they can find ways to act and speak and dream for a sustainable future for all of us. Through All-Species, children develop a life-long connection with an animal, a connection that brings them strength and pride and hope. In addition to working with this project, we’ve found that nature walks, preparing meals, building sweat lodges, dances, songs, skits, and craft workshops help children feel that bioregionalism isn’t some adult distraction but a way of living that they also shape while it shapes them.
Our community is our family, and as with any family, we must find ways to come to terms with each member to be at peace with ourselves. Like camping in a seemingly hostile territory, we must find ways to live there despite the insects, brambles, nettles and sudden storms of human interaction. Community means commitment to live in a place (of land, weather, people, change) and successful community means living well and in balance within our respective places.
Perhaps it all comes down to the occasional moments when we can truly see ourselves and what we’re doing. For me, such moments come at the KAW closing circles. One by one, adults and children step into the center and offer water from their region or prayers or songs or thanks or dance. Some of us in pain, some in joy, all in transition, the circle bonds us in care for each other that flourishes beyond the circle, and community that grows beyond our lives.
First published in North American Bioregional Congress III Proceedings, 1989.
Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg (b. 1959) is a poet, professor, and former Poet Laureate of Kansas (2009-2012). As a professor at Goddard College, she started the Transformative Language Arts track, and she leads writing workshops and retreats across the country. She is a certified poetry therapist and on the board of the National Association of Poetry Therapy. Her bioregional work includes editing the Kansas Area Watershed newsletter and planning the Congress of the Great Prairie bioregional congress.
