I read a lot of books, ask anyone who knows me. Lately, I can’t seem to function without two or three on the go at once – I need escape, and I need to learn. One that I’m on right now is The One Straw Revolution – An Introduction to Natural Farming by Masanobu Fukuoka. It’s my second Masanobu Fukuoka book and it’s reaffirming my belief in nature and they’re ability to know what they’re doing. Taking the time to understand how the natural environment around you functions, connecting with what’s in the soil and in the sky, to grow food in abundance…

We have spent the last several decades convincing ourselves that abundance is progress and civilization lies in our ability to produce ever more. This has broken our food system. We’ve lost our connection to where our true sustenance comes from. It is in the soil where tree and plant communications thread through the earth. It is in the sunlight that powers those connections, the wind that blows through the leaves and flowers, spreading growth and energy. Because the thing is, nature knows how to grow plants better than any human and when we nurture that knowledge and become part of it is when we live most fully.

I’ve always believed that small scale agriculture can feed the world. It’s not a stretch to me that anyone can grow at least a portion of their own food. Truly, anyone could grow all of their own food and I’m not saying that everyone should. Not everyone wants to and the human connection that can be forged between farmer and consumer is valuable to our growth as individuals and as a society. I think the connection to where our food comes from is the important part be it through personally getting one’s hands dirty or through a strong connection to a farmer. It’s true that if you ate today you should thank a farmer. And it’s true that you can grow food anywhere – some lawn space, some containers, some whatever-you-have that can fit some soil and sit in the sun.

I believe there is a strong connection between how we grow our food and our physical, mental and spiritual health. One of my favourite things about gardening is that it’s never the same twice and you can do it with anything. Every season has different weather conditions, every seed has potential to grow wonky. Nature thrives on variation and diversity and so will a garden. Yesterday, I knew I needed to transplant my peas. They’d been in 4” pots for too long and were really starting to look pretty unhappy. The problem is I’ve been stuck on where to put them and how to string them up. I could have tested soil (I have a kit, and even a pH tester), investigated drainage, etc to figure out the best pea growing location in my garden. What I did was sit in my meditation circle in the middle of my garden and think about it. When I had my design in my head I wandered around my property until I’d found what I needed. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but I found it. My end result is a very cool (I think) spiral creation. My point is, that while I am a believer in science and the benefits it brings, I am a believer that experience is the best teacher and “gut instinct” is a powerful thing. Removing from our minds the idea that we are in control of how nature grows lets us connect more deeply to preserving the health of the soil to preserve the health of ourselves. The spiritual health found in growing food goes hand-in-hand with the physical health and nutrition found in naturally grown food.

Way back in the day, people grew their food. It’s just what one did, it’s the way it was. Simpler times. I wouldn’t suggest we try to go back, simply because we can’t. We can adjust our food system to a more localized endeavour, incorporating a strong connection to the land, as highly valued as medicine and engineering put together. It becomes difficult to connect with our food, it’s inherent nutrition, it’s ability to grow us stronger and to heal our wounds internally and externally, when it’s produced far away, sold to us in giant stores run by corporations. We can shift our thinking and understand that farming does not have to mean bending nature to our will to feed the human desire for abundance, but can instead mean working as part of nature, allowing the land to produce it’s bounty. In his book, Masanobu Fukuoka says “A community that cannot manage to produce its own food will not last long” (p.116) and I think these are true words. We’ve focused for so long on centralizing production as a means of achieving efficiency and economic gain that this fundamental truth has been lost. So much food travels so far to get to our tables because the profit becomes more important than feeding people. It doesn’t have to be this way. For instance, I imagine a small independent grocery store in a small community growing the produce it will sell. They may be able to source cheaper produce from a large farm far away but they can source better quality food that benefits the local community either with their own resources or through local small scale farms. I imagine community kitchens and canning workshops, not as a way to feed the poor but as a way to live as a sustainable community. (And no, I don’t imagine us all living in hippy communes with daisies in our hair singing kumbaya.) The simple connection between our food and ourselves can sustain our communities and help us be better humans. That is what I imagine.

We can’t change the world overnight but we can start. While we still have people starving in the world we have a food crisis. Not one caused by the insufficiency of nature’s productive power but by the extravagance of human desire. We are stuck, because it’s easy to get stuck and believe that things can’t be another way. They can. There’s always a way. If nothing else, we can have hope and we can grow this world. Because even if I knew the world were to end tomorrow I would still plant a garden today.