Saving Nature: In Praise of Frugality

James L. Bull

Originally printed in the MARCH-APRIL 2007 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Bull, James L. "Saving Nature: In Praise of Frugality." Quest  95.2 (MARCH-APRIL 2007):
74-76.

Theosophical Society - James L. Bull first learned about Theosophy from his mother, Evelyn Bull, who had a number of articles and poems published in The American Theosophist. Now a retired psychologist, he remains active as a hospice volunteer.

I've always thought of myself as an accomplished firewood gatherer. I have gone camping all my life—as I write this I am sitting beside the campfire—and cooking, as is my custom, on a small open fire. On arriving in camp, a first task is always to gather fuel. (I have childhood memories of tying a rock to a rope and throwing it over a dead branch to bring it down.) This is the sensible harvesting of a limited resource.
 

I have noticed that frugality is sometimes associated with scarcity. Since I grew up during the Great Depression, people have sometimes suggested that my frugality is scarcity-driven. The threat of not having enough, or scarcity anxiety may be a powerful force that makes frugality necessary. But according to Wendell Berry, frugality may be appropriately paired with abundance. This notion may strike us as odd, in today's commercial world—frugality and abundance? Properly considered, frugality is simply the sensible management of limited resources. It is through frugality that we can achieve sustainable abundance. All freedoms exist within boundaries, and sensible abundance takes into account the natural limits of resources.

Of course the commercial world wants no part of frugality. An important distinction here has to do with needs and wants. Frugality has to do with filling our legitimate needs; the commercial world would have us not only indulge our wants as well as needs, but expand our wants and buy even more. The purpose of advertising, after all, is largely to persuade us to want things we do not need. This constant and unlimited expansion of wants (and purchases) is the driving force of modern capitalism. There is no acceptance of limits in this way of thinking.

Because the earth itself offers limited resources, our prudent use of them is necessary. The use of land by small farmers, as compared with industrial agriculture, is an example. According to Wendell Berry, industrial agriculture regards small scale family farming with contempt and insults. Peasants who save a part of their crop as seed are similarly regarded as standing in the way of progress—and profits, since they do not need to purchase new seed every season. In the eyes of industrial agriculture, many who protect the earth are obstacles to "progress."

Another casualty of global commercial development has been small-scale craftsmanship. Satish Kumar has pointed out that local craftspeople produce objects that are beautiful, useful, and durable, reflecting local styles and history. Such products become more beautiful with age and are often repairable when damaged, although in the world of commerce such items are regarded as old-fashioned. They have been replaced by mass-produced products which are often disposable. So much, these days, is disposable. (When was the last time you darned your socks?) We have come to regard our own possessions with the same disdain with which we view the original resources.

Global capitalism is built on the twin assumptions that growth (to be pursued without limit or question) equals progress, and the planet we live on is available for our exploitation. Taken together, these assumptions form an arrogant and chauvinistic mind set that saturates commerce and the media. Those who object are thought to be old- fashioned, obstructionist, or simply out of step, yet what we need is for many others also to be out of step.

To realize how much the idea of progress has become an unconscious part of our thinking, consider the fact that all economic thinking is growth-oriented. When was the last time you heard anyone promoting steady-state economics? Regarding the exploitation of the planet, consider, for example, the common assumption that all petroleum reserves should be extracted for our use. While it is true that the ethics of consumerism are being questioned and that many individuals and groups are consciously working to change our direction, it would be naive not to recognize the power and momentum of the global juggernaut now gathering speed, especially when driven by the combined force of government and corporate power. Countless native cultures are being undermined. The sweatshops of the working poor have been exported to distant lands, far from our worried glances.

In contrast to the commercial ethic, consider the statement by Gandhi that we should "Live simply so that others may simply live" and the Native American idea that "The earth does not belong to us, we belong to the earth." The two opposing ethics, the global commercial ethic and that of frugality, locality, and voluntary simplicity create what may become the defining polarity of this new century. The survival of countless cultures and languages, in addition to whatever wilderness which has not been destroyed already, is at stake.

The current national policy of relentless use of limited resources puts us on a collision course with some very significant economic consequences. There are warning signs already evident which should alert us, should we choose to heed them. First, there is global warming; second, the end of oil. We can think of these as messengers who have come to tell us that we must change our way of living on this planet. (How fortunate that oil reserves are limited! How disastrous the outcome if they were not!) Both of these developments call to our attention the necessity of frugality. These warning signs may be blessings, as sometimes blessings come wrapped in very strange packages. And although it may take a while to recognize the blessing for what it is, we should bless—not shoot—the messenger.

Today commerce rules. However, if we are to live in harmony with this planet that hosts our existence, commerce, although necessary, must no longer rule. We have been graced to live on this exquisite and rich planet, but we have developed an economic system that treats this sacred ground with disdain, greed, and exclusivity. Fortunately, the earth has its limitations, and we may be about to receive a lesson.

Consider the consequences of continued and unlimited development (i.e., destruction). Are we to allow the exhaustion of all wilderness areas—except a few token islands? Are native animals in their own territories to be extinct—only to be found in zoos? (What if all humans were reduced to living in prisons?) Does a lion in captivity continue to be a lion? What about the soul of the lion?

Americans have a love affair with technology, and it is easy to think that new technologies will solve our problems. I realize that there are technologies out there that may assist us in being less wasteful such as wind generators, solar panels, and straw bale houses, but technology alone will not save us. Only a shift in consciousness, in attitude, will change our way of life. Otherwise, we will simply have found more sustainable methods to carry out the same addiction to consumption and our appetite for speed, greed, and growth will continue unchecked. We would resemble the alcoholic who runs out of money but finds other ways to go on drinking. And consumerism has become very addictive indeed.

After all, the problem was not technological in the first place. The issues of global warming and the end of oil themselves are not the problem; they are indicators of the problem. Corrective technologies, therefore, will fix the symptoms, but not the cause. Just as endangered species are a symptom of encroaching development and the destruction of habitat, so global warming is the canary in the mine. Let us not just change the bird.

Thomas Berry has described our chauvinism extremely well:

The deepest cause of the present devastation is found in a mode of consciousness that has established a radical discontinuity between the human and other modes of being and the bestowal of all rights on humans. The other-than-human modes of being are seen as having no rights. They have reality and value only through their use by the human. In this context the other-than-human becomes totally vulnerable to exploitation by the human, an attitude that is shared by all four of the fundamental establishments that control the human realm: governments, corporations, universities and religions.

It would appear that there are two kinds of questions to be raised here. One is the macro, or economic question: how can the economic system reverse itself to become a steady-state, sustainable system, allowing for population growth only until zero population growth is achieved. The second is the micro or individual question, which I believe is primary: how can each of us separate ourselves from the false values and the addictions of the marketplace?

With regard to the first question, I suggest it is very unlikely that the leaders of global capitalism will just change their minds and decide to stop growing and developing new international markets, stop advertising unneeded products and promoting false values. Only the collapse of global capitalism seems to have the possibility of triggering a basic reevaluation of values necessary to bring about systemic change.

The second question is important: how can we as individuals slow down and become attentive to the small, the local, the particular, and the here and now? How can we calm our inner urgency and become quieter and less needy? Only then can we generate a cultural shift which forces economic change and find a way to live collectively in harmony with the planet.

The solution may be found in the contemplation of Nature. It is fitting that the counter-balance to our frantic lives is found in the opposite conditions of silence, the blessing of natural sounds alone, and solitude. Here we encounter the source of all life and the opportunity to heal ourselves.

Alone with nature, I am closest to my soul. Indeed, solitude is necessary to the appreciation of nature. When we encounter nature on a soul level with open arms and a quiet spirit, we may, from the source of all healing, heal ourselves.

As I write this, I sit on a cottonwood log and watch the autumn seed pods spiral to earth. A wisp of smoke from my campfire drifts upward. Birds sing; a hawk screeches. It is, of course, necessary to stop writing in order to be attentive and really present to what surrounds me. There is, after all, only one primary blessing, to which all others are secondary and derivative. It is that I am blessed to be here, in this place, in the natural space of this planet.


Living Waters

By Betty Bland

Originally printed in the MARCH-APRIL 2007 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Bland, Betty. "Living Waters." Quest  95.2 (MARCH-APRIL 2007):
25-29.

Theosophical Society - Betty Bland served as President of the Theosophical Society in America and made many important and lasting contributions to the growth and legacy of the TSA.

What an amazing feat it is to be able to send rockets to Mars! But not only that—we are also able to send robotic vehicles that relay pictures and scientific data about the surface rocks and subsoil. Recently, David and I had the privilege of attending one of the programs from the National Geographic Live! Series held at the Field Museum in Chicago. Films and narrative about the latest findings from Mars, our neighboring planet, were presented by Kobie Boykins, an engineer responsible for the solar panels used in the Mars Expedition rovers, Spirit and Opportunity.
 

One of their striking findings is that, in addition to the polar icecaps, there may have been large bodies of water on Mars. Many of the formations on the surface appear to be dried lake or ocean beds. If this is true, and Mars did indeed have vast amounts of water, where are the lakes or oceans now? Is what happened to the water something that could potentially happen to our own vast bodies of water?

Of course no one knows for sure, as our science in this area is in its infancy. Yet when we can explore the surface of the moon or another planet, it makes us realize afresh the great gift of our little space-island home and the importance of working in cooperation with all who share this habitation, that we might sustain it and flourish. This is the reverberating message of all who have explored space and our relative place in the solar system.

Because of stories, legend, and even some of our Theosophical writings, a big question in the minds of many has been, "Is there or could there have been life on Mars?" The identification of ice caps in the polar regions certainly indicates the presence of water, and now the identification of probable lake beds make it seem that there may have been vast amounts of water at some time in the distant past. The question of the presence of water is crucial because in our Earth's environment, wherever water is to be found, there is life. This is true for the deepest oceans around the hot and toxic fumaroles, the icy waters of the Arctic and Antarctic, as well as fresh water lakes, whether they be highly acidic, salty, or basic.

Water seems to be an essential element for life. It is the solvent in which minerals and proteins can combine and blend in order to build living forms. Even our bodies are composed of at least sixty percent water. Without the circulatory and lymphatic systems (our blood is eighty-three percent water), there would be no way to support the various chemical and biological processes necessary for life as a complex organism. The great solvent circulates chemical messages and nutrients, and washes away the wastes and impurities in such a way that the systems function as a cohesive whole.

In religious traditions and myths, water is used as a symbol for attaining a more meaningful life. If there is a desert, or dry and thirsty land, it is symbolic of a psychological state in which one feels empty or devoid of meaning. Jesus had to face his temptations in the desert. The Israelites had to wander in the desert for forty years before they could enter the Promised Land. And of course all of the lands around the avaricious dragon Smaug's lair, of Tolkien fame, were parched and barren.

Where there is water, however, the desert blooms and life flourishes in abundance. The holy Mt. Kailash in western Tibet is the traditional source of the four great rivers, the Ganges, Indus, Sutlej, and Brahmaputra, and as such is considered sacred by the Hindu, Buddhist, Jain, and Don religions. It is said to be the abode of the Hindu god Shiva.

The sacred lotus flower of the East, while having its roots in the physical earth and its blossom in the open sunlight, requires water to support its stem. If the mud represents the physical and the blossom in the open sunlight above is emblematical of spiritual enlightenment, then let us consider the meaning of the intervening water. The moisture of life seems to be related to consciousness, but not just any consciousness. Angry, violent, or selfish people are conscious, but they would be said to still be living in the desert.

The way to drink deeply of the living waters is to apply consciousness toward meaning and wholeness. Though not easily achieved, this can be accomplished incrementally by directing attention to the inner life, studying the works of sages, and being open to the insights that come from meditation. Slowly we can each cultivate our consciousness to become the living waters of compassionate unity. And gradually, as we learn to identify with a higher purpose, we breathe moisture around us to others who may also begin to wake up to a higher purpose.

Mars was known as the fierce god of war, and borne in that mythology is a truth for our instruction. Perhaps that warring energy is what turned his namesake planet into a desert, if it ever did support life forms. We should take note of the capability that we humans have to turn our unique garden spot in the solar system into a similar wasteland through our lack of concern for environmental issues and our bellicose and greedy natures. But the root causes lie within each of us as individuals. The moisture of the consciousness of each one of us, enlightened, or at least aiming in that direction, serves to water the gardens of earth and encourage the desert of our existence to flower.

In the Second Fragment of The Voice of the Silence, Madame Blavatsky compares this kind of consciousness to Amrita's clear waters, which are an essential ingredient in the bread of Wisdom. Maya's dew is the consciousness of hatred and selfishness.

"Great Sifter" is the name of the "Heart Doctrine," O disciple. (v.120)

The wheel of the good Law moves swiftly on. It grinds by night and day. The worthless husks it drives from out the golden grain, the refuse from the flour. The hand of Karma guides the wheel; the revolutions mark the beatings of the Karmic heart. (v. 121)

True knowledge is the flour, false learning is the husk. If thou would'st eat the bread of Wisdom, thy flour thou hast to knead with Amrita's [immortality] clear waters. But if thou kneadest husks with Maya's dew, thou canst create but food for the black doves of death, the birds of birth, decay and sorrow. (v. 122)

If thou art told that to become Arhan thou hast to cease to love all beings—tell them they lie. (v.123)

On a daily basis, consider your life and how you might add to the well-being of another; think of the beauty and treasures of this earth; explore the deep recesses of your heart for meaning and purpose in the realms of immortality. By doing so, each day you will be increasing the joy, gratitude, and understanding that fills our lives and our planet with living waters.


Humans, Apes, and the Felix Culpa

John Algeo

Originally printed in the MARCH-APRIL 2007 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation:Algeo, John. "Humans, Apes, and the Felix Culpa." Quest  95.2 (MARCH-APRIL 2007):
73.

Theosophical Society - John Algeo was a Professor Emeritus of English at the University of Georgia. He was a Theosophist and a Freemason He was the Vice President of the Theosophical Society Adyar.

There is a story, perhaps apocryphal, of two Victorian ladies passing a book shop in whose window were displayed copies of Charles Darwin's revolutionary book, On the Origin of Species. One lady says, "Mr. Darwin believes that men are descended from apes." The other, a bishop's wife, replies, "Oh, my dear, let us hope that it is not so. Or if it is, let us pray that the fact does not become generally known."
 

The first lady got Darwin's view wrong (a popular error shared by many others, including some who should know better). Darwin did not suppose that humans descended from apes, but rather that humans and apes have both descended from a common ancestor. The generally accepted scientific view is that their common ancestor was more apelike than humanlike, hence the widespread view that humans descend from apes.

However, the scientific view is focused solely on physical characteristics, which are all science can deal with, while Madame Blavatsky had quite a different focus. She therefore had an opposite view from that of scientists, namely, that the ancient common ancestor of apes and men was, in ways that are of deep importance, more human than ape. She also maintained that humans and apes interbred at one point in history, a miscegenation she called the sin of the mindless (Secret Doctrine 2:185-91). The possibility of such miscegenation has been rejected by conventional wisdom, which holds that once species diverge, they can no longer interbreed successfully.

Conventional wisdom is, however, often wrong. Recent studies of the DNA sequences of humans and chimpanzees point to evidence that surprisingly supports Madame Blavatsky. The conclusion some genetic scientists have reached is "that millions of years after an initial evolutionary split between human ancestors and chimp ancestors, the two lineages might have interbred again before diverging for good. . . . The final breakup came as late as 5.4 million years ago" (New York Times, Dec. 12, 2006, p. D3).

Yet Madame Blavatsky's label of "sin" for such interbreeding may be Victorian, like the reaction of the two ladies to Darwin's book. A Harvard-MIT geneticist, David Reich, has a different take. "Reich argues that hybrids could play an important and positive role in speciation, introducing advantageous traits into the gene pool— including ours. If Reich is correct, the customary image of the human family tree, with its neat and discrete divisions, should be replaced by another metaphor: a dense and impenetrable thicket of branches concealing countless acts of interspecies sex. It's enough to make a bishop's wife blush" (New York Times Magazine, Dec. 10, 2006, p. 54).

Some Christian theologians have referred to Adam and Eve's sin in the Garden of Eden as a felix culpa, that is, a happy fault. Although it was a fault because it got our legendary first ancestors thrown out of paradise, it was happy because it caused the Son of God to be born as a human being, thus uniting the divine and human natures in one person. The notion that the primal sin of humanity might have really been a good thing would not have seemed strange to Madame Blavatsky, who thought that those who believed it was a sin at all had gotten it quite wrong. But if the geneticists who believe that early humans and chimps interbred are right, and if David Reich is also right that such interbreeding can play a positive role in species development, then Blavatsky's sin of the mindless may have been another felix culpa.

Evolution, like God, moves in mysterious ways.


March - April 2005

VOLUME 93, NUMBER 2

For Others
By Betty Bland

And All the Company of Heaven
By Brian R. Marshall

Angels, Mortals, and the Language of Love
By Maria Parisen

The Builders
By Judith Buchannan

Finder's Fee
By Greg Jordon

Speculating About Angels
By John De Hoff

A Thanksgiving Presence
By Annette Weis

The Angel of Central Park
By Margaret Nickel

The Dark Side of Light
By John Algeo

Was It An Angel
By Don Elwert

Wonders Never Cease
By Anita Phillips

The History of International Earth Day
By Ananya S. Rajan



Finder's Fee

By Greg Jordan

Originally printed in the March - April 2005 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Jordan, Greg. "Finders Fee." Quest  93.2 (MARCH - APRIL 2005):52

Having survived a near-death experience in 1970, coming back from the dark side of the veil, I feel I'm no pilgrim when it comes to life-changing events. Sometime in the late 1980s I was attending a weekly traditional Lakota sweat lodge ceremony. During a break in the rounds, a question was asked: "How does one know which is the right path to choose when faced with a choice?" My answer was, "Choose the hardest path. In some cases one would be right and if one was wrong, one would learn a valuable lesson." Some people were shocked and warned me about saying such things in a sweat lodge. Two days later, while driving down a country road, I turned into a blind curve going downhill and was confronted by a tractor hauling a hay wagon. As I drove to the right and hit my brakes, I realized my tires were on wet rocks. Instead of stopping, my car accelerated toward a stand of trees. In less than a moment I knew my options were few: either pull out of my skid and kill the driver of the tractor, or crash into the trees. Against my own advice, I chose the easy path and drove into the trees. As my head was going through the windshield I was grabbed by two sets of hands that stopped my momentum, pulled me out of the windshield, and set me down in my seat. I could hear one of my "angels" say to the other, "I think we got him this time." I cannot tell you "what I got"; however, the scar I carry for the rest of my life is my reminder of entities that exist well beyond my five senses. That day was the last day of my life as a mortgage broker—business man and the first day of my life as a Native American children's story writer.


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