Category Archives: Great Work

Whoa

Winter Solstice                                                Full Moon of the Winter Solstice

Just to show you the power of the internet.  I sent this e-mail after I wrote the last blog entry and Professor Christian answered within 30 minutes.  From Australia.  How ’bout that?

Hello, Professor Christian,

Very stimulating material.  I love the large frame and the reframe.

Here’s the question:  if the primary outcome of our uniqueness, the idea of collective learning logrolling adaptation into the future, is increasing energy consumption, is there any hope for those of us in the environmental movement who want to throttle back what now seems to me to be the defining characteristic of our species?

I’ve just finished this lecture, so you may answer this question further on, but as a person responsible for the Sierra Club’s legislative work here in Minnesota, it gave me pause.

Thanks for introducing really new ideas to me.  It’s a lot of fun.

Charles,
Delighted that you enjoyed the lectures.  I think the question you ask really is the key and where all this leads (at let for us humans).  If I’m right, collective learning has yielded huge benefits, but also got us in a serious mess.  But collective learning is also, as far as I can see, the only thing likely to get us out of this mess.  So, more funds fir education, research, and particularly research into sustainability in all its forms.  I’m not a politician and, stated like that I may sound simplistic, but I can see no other way of interpreting the story I tried to tell in my lectures.
Thank you very much for your kind email.

David Christian

Homo sapiens the Energy Sink

Winter Solstice                                                                    Full Moon of the Winter Solstice

Still listening to the series of lectures, Big History.  There was a really striking concept in the most recent lecture, one in which Professor David Christian, considered the perennial question:  What makes humans unique?  There have been many answers from imago dei to tool-maker to bi-pedalism to our brain to bulk ratio.  Each of these has run into challenges over time.  Professor Christian offers an idea that was new to me.

His idea is that humans, unique among organisms on earth, perhaps even unique among organisms in our galaxy, have the capacity to adapt quickly and often to their environment.  He offers as evidence the escalating energy controlled by humans ever since the Paleolithic.  This was the time when the humans went of out of Africa and began the vast migrations that put our species in literally all parts of the known world.  Each time an organism enters a new environment it has to adapt to that environment in such a way that it can meet its energy needs.  The familiar finches from Darwin’s Galapagos journey developed beaks suited for the kind of nut or other form of food found in the particular new niche they inhabited.

As Christian points out, organisms usually develop one such trick and apply over and over until their run as a species ends in an extinction event of some kind.  We are unique in that we adapt within one generation to a new or changed environment.  We then pass on those tricks through symbolic language so each generation can build on the learnings of the past.  Christian calls this collective learning.  It is, he says, the truly unique facet of homo sapiens.

How it manifests itself is in our increasing control over energy sources.  We now consume up to 40% of all energy utilized by all organisms on earth.  This means that some species no longer have enough energy and die out.  We are an extinction event ourselves on the order of magnitude of other notables like the Chixilub meteor.

Here’s what really caught me with this idea.  Our unique ability to adapt early and often manifests itself in increasing energy and resource consumption, consumption that has grown remarkably since the migrations of the Paleolithic.  To me this means that those of us in the environmental community have placed ourselves over against the defining outcome of what it means to be human.  I’m not sure what this means quite yet, but I don’t think its good.

Politics and Juicy Lucys

Winter Solstice                                                           Full Moon of the Winter Solstice

Matt’s juicy lucy’s are a gourmet treat to this Indiana boy.  There’s just something about hamburgers, a, and hamburgers with cheese, b, that makes me happy.

Justin Fay, the Sierra Club’s new lobbyist, and I met there to discuss the upcoming session of the Minnesota Legislature and how we might work our issues in this new political world.  Justin’s a pro and we share a similar pragmatic outlook toward politics and government, be mostly right and win, rather than 100% right and lose.  That means he’s a good pick for a lobbyist.

Lots of new twists to the political work this session, not the least among them, a friendly governor.  We don’t know how to work yet in a friendly governor, less friendly legislature setting, but we’ll learn.

While I waited for Justin, I looked at the bar and tried to figure out what made them popular places.  Yes, alcohol, I know, but beyond that.  Matt’s has a lowered, dark ceiling, dim lighting and food.  Women serve men.  Entertainment–TV and jukebox–are the primary non-food/booze elements.  It looks like a cave.  You come in, blinking from the bright snow and the darkness and warmth creates a sort of instant intimacy, a feeling of safety and camaraderie.

Mark Odegard’s introduction to his man-cave in his new place and Paul Strickland’s in his made me aware of the similarities between what many men value in decor and the inside of bars.  Pretty close.

A Northstar Solstice Party

Samhain                                                              Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

After a meal and some awards, members of the Northstar Chapter of the Sierra Club gathered around a bonfire under a clear sky lit by the almost full Winter Solstice Moon.  A poem was read; there were some reflections on Christmas in Santa Fe and the wonder of fire, then the annual solstice event began to break up with couples walking the quarter mile down a moonlit path to the parking lot.

The potluck meal, served before hand, represented the various subcultures within the club.  Vegetarians, vegans and carnivores all had dishes.  My favorites were the creamed corn, the summer sausage and a vegan vegetable and bean soup I made earlier in the day.

Dodge Nature Center is in West St. Paul, one of those spots south and east in the metro area, below St. Paul.  We live north and a bit west of downtown Minneapolis so we drove across most of the metro area to get there.

It was nice to have Kate along and I hope we can begin to do things like this more and more once she retires.

It’s a form of suicide, isn’t it?

Samhain                                                                                     Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

“It’s a form of suicide, isn’t it? We build houses that kill ourselves (in earthquakes). We build houses in flood zones that drown ourselves,” said Roger Bilham, a professor of geological sciences at the University of Colorado. “It’s our fault for not anticipating these things. You know, this is the Earth doing its thing.”

Midwest Radicals

Samhain                                          Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

Worked on learning the ablative absolute and the passive periphrastic.  This last one is also the name of a colon problem.  Not really.  But this is strange about it, periphrastic is a latin derivative from the Greek.  The actual latin equivalent is circumlocutio, to talk around something.  Do you see the irony here?

This goes to the work of translation and the ways in which literal renderings don’t always, in fact, often don’t, serve idiomatic English.

Also spent time today with Leslie Mills, the UTS intern for whom I have been supervisory clergy over the last semester.  She’s a young woman, growing into her sense of herself and her understanding of a very odd beast, the UU ministry.  UU gatherings mimic protestant forms, e.g. congregations, church buildings, clergy, Sunday worship, but have none of the underlying biblical or church historical rationale, at least in their Midwestern humanist incarnations.

It is a peculiar fact of Unitarian-Universalism that the true radicals in the movement are and have been in the Midwest for some time, since the early 1800’s as the east coast heresies of unitarianism and universalism followed the frontier.  In the time of Jenkin Lloyd Jones and his creation, the first World Parliament and Congress of Religions, the liberal faith tradition in the Midwest gained breadth.

In the post WWI years Minnesota and Iowa, respectively, Des Moines and Minneapolis in particular, became the center point for a non-theistic approach to the human condition, an approach focused on the human and the human experience, as it played out in this vale of tears not in the triumphant heaven of certain Christian beliefs. In this atheological turn the Midwest Unitarians gained depth.

(happy Minnesotans dancing around a local outdoorsman)

Now, in the first decade of the third millennium, the third thousand year period after the dramatic events played out in Palestine, the Midwest has come the front again, this time building on the humanist legacy, but moving the human from the center as the humanists moved God from the center.  In its place now the diverse world of pagan thought has put the natural world and our home planet within that world.  It has been, you might say, a Copernican revolution in metaphysics, moving first away from the heavens to the consciousness and lives of humans, then moving those same humans to a place in that world, rather than pride of place.

This dramatic, unusual chain of thought and faith experience makes the gathering places of those humanists now something other than churches, something different from the great cloud of witnesses, or the gathering of saints.  Just what they are is not clear, nor will it be for a while, I imagine, maybe decades, maybe centuries.  They may be unnecessary now, vestigial organs of the Christian traditions.  Or, maybe not.  Time.  Only in time will we know.

Day by Day

Samhain                                                           Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

Thursday is art day; Friday is Latin day.  Today Greg and I will go over my (rough) translation of verses 36-48 of Book I of Ovid’s Metamorphosis.  Though slow going, I get a thrill each time I crack a phrase, write it down and it makes sense.  Even if Greg later points out I’m wrong.   I have a lot of opportunity for improvement and that makes the learning worthwhile.  Saturday is errand day and around the house work day.  Sunday, again, is Latin.  Monday is business meeting and Woolly day.  This leaves me Tuesday and Wednesday as buffer days.  So far, this schedule seems to work pretty well for me, though my lackluster performance yesterday made me wonder a bit.

(this graphic illustrates the verses I’ve translated for today.)

On the climate change front.  The world has begun to lurch forward on two aspects of climate change:  reduction of carbon emissions and adaptation.  In the more radical wing of the environmental movement adaptation or mitigation has been capitulation, something to avoid since it muddies the gravity of the problem we face.  A tipping point may be at hand.  Folks have begun to put forth adaptation in the context of realizing the global warming train has not only left the station, but is well on its way.  A certain, not insubstantial amount of warming is now inevitable, perhaps as much 2 degrees, possibly more.   Given that, mitigating projects that can help soften the damage, are not only a good idea, but necessary.  If proposed in the context of inevitable warming, mitigation projects can also underscore the need to take dramatic steps now to prevent more warming.  I’m hopeful we’ll see progress out of Cancun.

My comments above do fly in the face of polling numbers that suggest climate change has receded in the public’s mind, especially as the economic crisis has shoved personal financial peril forward.  Understandable, but not good.  My hunch about a tipping point comes more from the gradual roll out of an increasing consensus about the science.  We’ll see.

Unthawed.

Samhain                                           Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

So beautiful.  The moon floats above our cottonwood trees, a thin sickle, its horns pointing to the east.  I’ve never seen any art object that can compare to the sleek curves and understated lighting of a sickle moon.

When I ran out of sleep a couple of days ago, up for a while in the morning,  I set up today.  After my two tours at the MIA, I’m worn out, tired, a bit dejected.  Losing sleep fiddles with my emotional monitor, I become more sensitive, less able to assess accurately how I’m feeling or doing.

The Thaw exhibition has proved a puzzle for me.  I don’t seem too good at touring it and I can’t quite figure out why.  I base this on the flatness of all three tour’s responses to my guiding them, a flatness that is out of character for most of my tours.  I love this show and the objects in it.  They fascinate me and they shine with a fierce enthusiasm, witness to the powerful visions of people who live close to the land.  But somehow what I’m doing doesn’t convey my excitement.  I may approach this show too analytically, too much absorbed in the art historical arguments about native masterpieces and how to view native art.  Maybe.  I just don’t know.

As I said, when I’m worn out, like today, the negatives surface with ease and have more endurance, that may be an aspect of this problem, but it’s not all of it.  Perhaps I need to reconstruct my tour on different grounds, use different objects.  Maybe I need to develop actual questions for each object, something I resist doing because I prize the conversational atmosphere, just folks walking through the gallery sharing what we see and what we know.  That usually works well for me.  Not this time.

Winter’s Loon

Samhain                                       Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

It’s the best time of the year.  Ring a ling, ring a ling, ring a ling.  Yes, because the woods are lovely, dark and deep.  And because we have promises to keep.  It’s the best time of the year.

I’m no Christmas curmudgeon.  The lights and the cheeriness lift my spirits, too.  Yet it is not the lights toward which I drift, drawn in Frost’s New England sleigh pulled by a draft horse black as the snow falling is white.  I wander toward the woods, the dark and the deep.  In there, amongst the trees, far from city lights lies the reason for the season for me.

Each night for the last week or so I’ve heard my favorite sound of the season, the hooting of a great gray owl which lives in our woods.  I’ve never seen this bird and this may will be the child of the one I heard years ago.  The bass voice declares a confidence in the dark and the cold, an embrace.  The rhythm and the solitariness of the sound captures the winter dark as a loon’s cry distills the summer sun setting on a northern lake.

This is the carol for which my heart yearns; strange, in its way, since the great gray is the apex predator in our world, excepting, of course, the humans.

So, as you drink your Christmas cheer, crack the window a bit, listen. You might hear the voice of the woods, lovely, dark and deep.

Emmer concedes governor’s race to Dayton

Samhain                                          Waxing Moon of the Winter Solstice

Back up at 8 am for an 8:30 conference call with the Minnesota Environmental Partnership.  This concerned information we may use when defending against roll backs to current environmental policy.  The sound quality was poor, but the information, presented in power point slides via a webinar website, had a lot of good data.  I can’t discuss it, but it was far from discouraging.

Here’s good news just posted at the Trib:  Emmer concedes governor’s race to Dayton.   A tip of the hat to the state Republicans.  They read the state right; we’re weary of recount wrangles.  Perhaps we can begin a more bi-partisan approach to Minnesota’s future.  I’d like to see it.  Bi-partisanship is good for environmental issues.

We will probably spend more time on administrative and rule-making work for the next two years than we have in the past. We being the Sierra Club and our allies.

In between I looked up Latin words in preparation for translating lines 40-45 of Book I, the Metamorphosis.  It’s something about water and the sky and sun, but I have yet to put it together.