Saturday, August 25, 2012

Gardens of Accommodation: Heinrick Harrer, the Dalai Lama, Seven Years in Tibet, worms, toads, and Jonathan Livingston Chicken

Tonight, I'd planned on writing about an all-day event that I attended, a communal building of an outdoor oven for a member of my brother's permaculture group, an occasion akin to the barn-raising scene in the movie, Witness. 

Very moving.  But, as poet Naomi Shihab Nye explains, sometimes you want to go to church, but your writing takes you to the dog races instead.

Over the years, I've learned to follow my writing, rather than direct it.  And tonight, eating dinner out by the garden, watching thunderheads build while the wind kicked up and sent the pergola lights swaying, I felt an impulse to post instead about gardens of accommodation.

The pergola at the garden at Dry Creek at night


I'm so new to the sustainable-living lifestyle, I'm hesitant to claim authority about anything having to do with gardens, pastures or farm animals. Yet my garden, for its size, has been incredibly successful, and I purchased zero commercial fertilizers and used zero pesticides along the way.  In fact, from the garden's very inception, I've went out of my way to accommodate nature rather than control it.  Perhaps, that has brought good karma.  Anyway, I'll choose to believe that until life proves otherwise.

My favorite scene in the movie Seven Years in Tibet is when Brad Pitt's character, Heinrick  Harrer, complains to the young Dalai Lama that he can't proceed building the requested movie theater because the workers refuse to kill worms.

The Dalai Lama explains why all life is sacred to Tibetans and then says, "You cannot ask a devout people to disregard holy teaching."

Heinrick Harrer smiles in disbelief, "I'm sorry, but we can't possibly rescue all the worms if you want the theater finished in this lifetime."

"You have a clever mind," responds the Dalai Lama.  "Think of a solution and in the meantime explain to me what is an elevator."

The next scene is of monks gently sifting dirt from worms dug out of the foundation trench and then carefully covering the worms up with dirt in their new home.

I found myself in a similar position when I started filling in a garden bed by our back steps and my youngest son, Everest, protested, "but, Dad, remember that's where our toad lives."

Remembering the movie, I decided that although I needed that garden space I would not bury the our toad-friend under the stairs.  Therefore, Everest and I used river stones to build a series of stepped-back retaining walls that provided stairs to his house under our back porch.  While we were at it, we also decided to save the rabbit brush that had grown wild near by.

Because of our extra work, we've enjoyed many nights of watching our toad catch grass hoppers in the garden under the swaying lights.


The next accommodation I had to make is for our youngest chicken, Blackie, who I quickly nicknamed Jonathan Livingston Chicken for a couple of reasons:  first, because she's a loner who was persecuted by the flock as youngster; second, because for a chicken, she can really fly.  Our summer coup is a converted dog kennel which is over six-feet high.  Although, I put a roof over most of it for shade, I left openings as part of the Japanese-modernism design I desired.  It worked great, except for one problem:  one night, Blackie decided it would be nicer to roost alone up under the great spiraling Milky Way, rather than down in the cage with rest of the flock.

That would have been fine if we didn't have owls, hawks and eagles, not to mention raccoons.
Now, I could have easily strung chicken wire across the openings in the cage to keep Blackie in her place.  But, I thought of Jonathan Livingston Seagull, my favorite movie as a child, and one of my favorite books now:



What he had once hoped for the Flock, he now gained for himself alone; he learned to fly, and he was not sorry for the price he paid.

I would not keep Blackie, my Jonathan Livingston Chicken, from flying higher than any chicken has flown.   So, I spent two very long, hot days building a second story to my coup, an open-air screened room, so that she can roost up there under the grand sweep of the Milky Way, away from the flock, and still be safe at the same time.

Sky Nest added to the chicken coup for Blackie
Sky Nest (detail) addition for Blackie
And at some level, I think she knows that I went out of my way to accommodate her, because I've never gotten around to filling in the other holes in the roof, and I know she could fly out if she really wanted to.  But instead, each night she flies only into the penthouse I made her, happy enough to be high up under the grand firmament spiraling overhead.

Perhaps I'm just some wacko post-hippie, but not only do I believe that all animals from worms to whales have their own individual (not just as a species) spirit, intelligence and will, I also believe that by accommodating these independent wills the best we can, we gain grace that blesses our lives in unexpected ways--a garden that yields more than it should or a loyal chicken who follows you around, hops on your lap and stays--not because she has to, but because she wants to.





Saturday, August 18, 2012

We Make Really Good Tomato Jam while the Boys Are at School

Grape vines ready to harvest at Dry Creek


The sun has moved south; the days have shortened; school has started.  We turn in job applications and wait for calls.  While we wait, we listen to music--John Lennon, Bob Dylan, Paulo Nutini.  And while we listen, we read--Country Gardens, Hobby Farm Home, P.D. James, The Murder Room and Gardening at the Dragon's Gate by Wendy Johnson.  We live off the last of last years wages and take long showers together.  It feels like when we were newlyweds--lots of dreams, some hope, but nothing is for certain, so we cling to each other. 

We harvest the garden and feed the chickens.  We make pickles and jam--really good jam.  Tomato jam, the recipe of which we'll share with our readers.

Marci feeds the chickens

Our first batch of bread and butter pickles


And for now, everything we do, we do together.  It won't last.  It can't last, but while it does, we'll enjoy the last of summer before Eden freezes over.

Marci's Really Good Tomato Jam


Overall, we followed the recipe for plum jam that is in the box of Pectin, replacing the plums with tomatoes and adding spices.  Marci wasn't satisfied with the jam because it didn't taste like her great-grandmother's.  However, two households went through a jar each in a couple of days and everyone raved about how good it was.  Enjoy and post comments to help us convince Marci that this is Really Good Tomato Jam, so that she can move on. 

Half done with my job


Ingredients:


5 3/4 cups of chopped tomatoes (not peeled).
1/4 cup of lemon-lime juice (1 lemon, 2 limes)
1/2 tsp. of cinnamon
4 whole cloves
1 pkg. of Pectin
8 1/2 cups of sugar

5 3/4 cups of chopped tomatoes--yum!

Directions:


1.  Bring tomatoes, lemon-lime juice, cinnamon, cloves and Pectin to a full rolling boil.
2.  Quickly add all of the sugar.
3.  Bring back to a boil and cook for four minutes, stirring constantly.
4.  Remove from heat and ladle into prepared jars.
5.  Process for 20 minutes.

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

First Connection: Brandon Flowers and the Killers

Late afternoon, maybe February, sunlight intense on the cliffs above Lukachukai.  I top the pass between Chinle and Tsaile, the pinion valley below green-gold. Patches of snow littered with pinion needles hide in the shadows as I race by this high, dry forest.  I'm listening to a Killers CD that I bought as a Christmas present for Marci.  Neither of us has really listened to it, but she likes the single, "Mr. Brightside".

Same day--just a few minutes later, in my driveway:  I'm in the van and I won't get out.  This song is different.  There's something so open, so vulnerable, so rebellious.   The lead-singer keeps repeating...

I got soul, but I'm not a soldier
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier

Lyrics don't seem special, and yet something feels familiar.  I replay it, listen closer to the words.

When there's nowhere else to run
Is there room for one more son
One more son
If you can hold on
If you can hold on, hold on
I want to stand up, I want to let go
You know, you know - no you don't, you don't
I want to shine on in the hearts of men
I want a meaning from the back of my broken hand

Still, nothing, at least not in the lyrics, that seems would grab me.  But something does.  Especially during the refrain,

I got soul, but I'm not a soldier
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier



Then, strangely hymn-lines come to mind--

Put your shoulder to the wheel; push along,
Do your duty with a heart full of song,
We all have work; let no one shirk.
Put your shoulder to the wheel.

and...

Onward, Christian soldiers!
Marching as to war,
With the cross of Jesus
Going on before.

What the heck, this is a retro-punk group, with chunks of the Cure, the Fixx, U2, and the Police buried not-so-subtly below the main text of the melody.  Why on earth are Mormon hymns coming to mind?

So, I replay it, and replay it.  Of course, I don't get why.

Yeah, you know you got to help me out
Yeah, oh don't you put me on the backburner
You know you got to help me out
You're gonna bring yourself down
You're gonna bring yourself down
Yeah, oh don't you put me on the backburner
Yeah, you're gonna bring yourself down

Over and again, last call for sin
While everyone's lost, the battle is won
With all these things that I've done
All these things that I've done
If you can hold on
If you can hold on

Fast-forward a few months, and we're at the house in Page (I think), visiting Marci's parents.  We're all around the computer and Tyler tells us Brandon Flowers, the lead singer of the Killers,  is a Mormon.  I don't believe him.  How can I with the lyrics of "Mr. Brightside"?  His uncle Shane backs him up. 

"They say Alice Cooper grew up a Mormon," I protest.  "And that's false.  Why believe this?"

Later, I do some research. Sure enough Brandon Flowers grew up in Nephi, Utah, and is Mormon.  The Killers are based in Las Vegas where Flowers moved as a teen.  Early on the band was asked to relocate in LA, but Flowers refused to leave his adopted home. 

Flowers, like myself, then, grew up in two very different worlds.  Small town Utah and Vegas.  I grew up in small town Utah and Reno. 

With some context, I think I now understand "All These Things I've done."  "I got soul, but I'm not a soldier / I got soul, but I'm not a soldier" is Brandon letting his parents know that although he feels the spirit of the law, he can't live it.  He's got soul (he feels the spirit), but he's not a soldier (he's not going to be a typical Mormon, not part of the united army of belief).  In other words, he's leaving the flock.

Although many other themes, like Vegas, influence Flowers songwriting, his Mormon upbringing continues to seep through.  He's caught between two worlds, Utah and Nevada--neighboring states, worlds apart culturally, although both were settled early on by Mormons.  Like Flowers, I've been caught in a crossfire between heaven and hell.  And I think, like Flowers, I had a hard time deciding which was hell--small town Mormon Utah or the bright light, big Sodom and Gomorrah.  And of course, I also couldn't decide which was heaven.  Even though "Crossfire" is clearly about typical struggles in marriage, it extends, I think, to Flowers wavering between his religious upbringing and his new found freedom in the ways of the world.  That probably is also a source of the marriage tension discussed in the song.


"Human" written earlier than "Crossfire" directly demonstrates his mixed feelings about religion.  He both wants to be part of it, and at the same time break away from it:

And sometimes I get nervous
When I see an open door
Close your eyes
Clear your heart...
Cut the cord


The doors to the world have opened for him; he's got the chance to "cut the cord."  But he can't.  Why?

And I'm on my knees
Looking for the answer
Are we human?
Or are we dancers?


Most lyric sites record the lyrics this way, and they work.  But if you listen to the song, Flowers never puts an "s" at the end.  So, some sites print the lyrics this way--

And I'm on my knees
Looking for the answer
Are we human?
Or are we dancer?


--which are not only grammatically incorrect, but don't have any clear meaning.  Here's what I think Flowers is singing:

And I'm on my knees
Looking for the answer
Are we human?
Or are we denser?


In other words, he's on his knees, pleading with the Lord for an answer to his question, which is, "Are we only human (simply a product of evolution) or are we denser? (in other words, do we carry a spirit within us and have a divine purpose?)

This time, even after his prayer, Flowers decides to cut the chord:

And so long to devotion
You taught me everything I know
Wave goodbye
Wish me well..
You've gotta let me go


It sounds like he's leaving organized religion behind him.  However, he's not angry; he knows his religious upbringing has made him who he is:  "You taught me everything I know."  But he wants to be free between the crossfire of heaven and hell, so this time he chooses to leave.

For much of my life I felt the same:  Mormonism made me who I am, and it was good, but I want more. I incorrectly believed the church limited my artistic, intellectual and spiritual growth.  I now know it's quite the opposite:  I can only achieve my artistic, intellectual and spiritual potential through the church.  It's who I am. 

Based on a recent interview, it sounds as if Flowers has come to the same personal realization.  But, of course, testimony is a day to day affair, so he could again decide to cut the chord.  Whether he does or not, Mormonism will always be an influence on the Killers.  Mormonism is now a major world religion, and as such, more and more artists, writers and musicians will bring that herritage with them to the arts community.  It is time for critics to take Mormonism seriously as an influence on both American and world culture.

Mormons.  We are.



Friday, August 3, 2012

What do Chekhov, Issa, Basho, Duane Niatum, Natalie Goldberg and Italo Calvino have to do with Mormonism?

You're a writer who loves these big, tough songs that pierce your heart and make you feel alive all over again.  You believe in literature with a soul.  You believe in the book that makes you think, that makes you feel as though you've been somewhere and experienced something, that you're a different person for having read it.  Writing to entertain doesn't matter to you.  Writing to impress others with your cleverness or your hoped-for-brilliance doesn't matter as much as it once did.  Your desire is like Chekhov's who spoke of describing a situation so truthfully that the reader can no longer avoid it.  Or, in your own words, to wrangle with the tough places in yourself and your subject.  Those things matter to you. 


Thus opens "Writing:  An Act of Responsibility" by Phyllis Barber, which serves as the introduction to The Best of Mormonism 2009 as well as a personal reflection by the author on the role of contemporary Mormon writers in Literature.  As is clear from the opening paragraph, this essay, like the entire anthology, holds its own ground.  So, one might ask, why even publish an anthology of Mormon writers?  If they truly are on par with their intellectual peers across the nation, why not read their work in Black Warrior Review, Iowa Review, Puerto del Sol, New Yorker, etc.?  Obviously, one reason might be the same reason I assume Duane Niatum put together Harper's Anthology of 20th Century Native American Literature in 1988.  Prejudice.  Lack of market.  Unequal access.  History distorted by other voices.  The desire to be taken seriously without abandoning your culture.

But, I think there is another reason, which is indicated by the fact that this personal reflection is written in second-person, not first.  Very different from say Natalie Goldberg, whose personal reflections are always wonderfully personal, wonderfully informal, wonderfully irreverent.  That second person is there for two reasons:  First, as Mormon artists we are unsure of ourselves in the outside world.  Not afraid that we aren't good enough writers, but afraid that if we write about what matters to us most, our religion, we won't be taken seriously by non-Mormons.  So we distance ourselves, seek safety in the second or third person. 

The truth is we don't fully believe that we can "describe a situation so truthfully that the reader can no longer avoid it."  Not that we'll fail as writers, but that the world will fail as readers--that the mere mention of our religion will kill any chances of being heard.  Believe me, this is a valid fear.  If you're still tuned in, you're more enlightened than most. Thank you.

Barber doesn't openly discuss this fear.  Most Mormons won't.  When it comes to facing prejudice, Mormons have largely turned the other cheek.  It's what we're taught. Confrontation kills the spirit.  The Holy Ghost and argument can't coexist.  It's pretty difficult to get a well-brought-up Mormon to Bible bash.  The unintended effect is a lot of us spend much of life invisible.  Not that people don't know we're Mormon.  We're pretty open about that.  Not that people don't know we're writers; we're pretty open about that.  But we're afraid to be Mormon writers.  We want our intellectual and artistic life to be separate from our spiritual life.  Absurd, of course.   If poetry is bread, and I'm Mormon, it's ridiculous that I should try to write only secular verse.  And yet we do.  That is the deadliest effect of prejudice.   It makes the victims question themselves.  I am is no longer I amI am is either what you want me to be or I am is a reaction against what you want me to be.  Either way, I am no longer exists.

Barber does talk extensively about the other fear that plagues Mormon writers.  Will we be open enough, or will our religion cloud our vision?  In other words, will we be as prejudice towards others as others are towards us?  Will we get on our high horse? 

In reflecting on this, Barber uses politics as a venue to discuss the role of personal belief in literature, paraphrasing Italo Calvino's rules as a start:

1) Literature should never be used for a single cause--i.e., Maoist theory is the only valid subject for Chinese writers.

2) Literature should never be viewed "as an assortment of eternal human sentiments".  It is not the job of the writer to write what is already known, but to discover the unknown.

3) Literature is vital when it "gives voice to whatever is without a voice".

4) Literature has the potential to "impose patterns of language, of vision, of imagination, of mental effort and the creation of a model of values that is at the same time aesthetic and ethical".

I believe Calvino's descriptions of the right and wrong mixtures of politics and literature extends perfectly to matters of religion.   I also believe Calvino's descriptions of right and wrong mixtures extends to many of the arts.  I therefore propose to write several small articles about the work of Mormon writers and artists.

The purpose is not to proselytize.  I'll leave converting to the missionaries who have probably already knocked on your door during supper time.  And the purpose is not to build bridges--to find universal values that we share across our distinct cultures.  If you don't like me for who I am, too bad.  I spent the first thirty years hiding who I really am, and I've been done with that for more than a decade.  I AM.

Rather, I want to demonstrate that there is a healthy, vital Mormon arts community out there, and if you're not familiar with it, you're missing out.  Imagine the world without Jewish, Catholic, Buddhist or Islamic art. 

Secondly, Mormon culture is strong enough to ""impose" unique "patterns of language, of vision, of imagination, of mental effort and the creation of a model of values that is at the same time aesthetic and ethical."   Much of Mormon art is uniquely Mormon.  Just as you can't read Issa or Basho without becoming a little bit Buddhist, you can't read or listen to certain Mormon works without becoming a little bit Mormon.

If that scares you, well, you've got a problem.  But, you don't have to deal with it.  Just exit this blog, don't return to it, and your world will remain forever the same.

As for my title, "What do Chekhov, Issa, Basho, Duane Niatum, Natalie Goldberg and Italo Calvino have to do with Mormonism?"

Nothing really, but would you have you typed in "Mormon Writers," "Mormon Artists" or "Phyllis Barber" in your search?  Probably not.  Thus the need for this and many similar posts.