addicted to plastic

I stumbled across this film online, and I felt it worth the watch. Though they point to new scientific innovation as a solution to the "plastic problem", this film certainly made me trust technological innovation less and reaffirmed thoughts about making as much of the things that you need to live as possible.

If it only plays half the video...just remember the time it stops at and come back to it a little later. Im not real sure how this website works, but at least its free.

Visit documentary-log.com for free online documentaries!

ohhh 2009

Well...its 2010. What can I say? 2009 was a very full year. A year full of difficulty and joy, hope and disappointment, confusion and new found clarity. I'm grateful t have made it out alive and well and felling excited, optimistic and energized for the next season of life. We're moving in about 3 weeks. Go to my Flickr page if you'd like to see some of the pictures of this past year. Here's a taste...

Wendell Berry Poem

I've been reading quite a bit of Wendell Berry poetry lately. There are many that I have fallen in love with, but I think that this one may be my favorite. I hope that you enjoy it as much as I do.

Some Further Words

Let me be plain with you, dear reader.
I am an old-fashioned man. I like
the world of nature despite its mortal
dangers. I like the domestic world
of humans, so long as it pays its debts
to the natural world, and keeps its bounds.
I like the promise of Heaven. My purpose
is a language that can repay just thanks
and honor for those gifts, a tongue
set free from fashionable lies.

Neither this world nor any of its places
is an "environment." And a house
for sale is not a "home." Economics
is not "science," nor "information" knowledge.
A knave with a degree is a knave. A fool
in a public office is not a "leader."
A rich thief is a thief. And the ghost
of Arthur Moore, who taught me Chaucer,
returns in the night to say again:
"Let me tell you something, boy.
An intellectual whore is a whore."

The world is babbled to pieces after
the divorce of things from their names.
Ceaseless preparation for war
is not peace. Health is not procured
by sale of medication, or purity
by the addition of poison. Science
at the bidding of the corporations
is knowledge reduced to merchandise;
it is a whoredom of the mind,
and so is the art that calls this "progress."
So is the cowardice that calls it "inevitable."

I think the issues of "identity" mostly
are poppycock. We are what we have done,
which includes our promises, includes
our hopes, but promises first. I know
a "fetus" is a human child.
I loved my children from the time
they were conceived, having loved
their mother, who loved them
from the time they were conceived
and before. Who are we to say
the world did not begin in love?

I would like to die in love as I was born,
and as myself of life impoverished go
into the love all flesh begins
and ends in. I don't like machines,
which are neither mortal nor immortal,
though I am constrained to use them.
(Thus the age perfects its clench.)
Some day they will be gone, and that
will be a glad and a holy day.
I mean the dire machines that run
by burning the world's body and
its breath. When I see an airplane
fuming through the once-pure sky
or a vehicle of the outer space
with its little inner space
imitating a star at night, I say,
"Get out of there!" as I would speak
to a fox or a thief in the henhouse.
When I hear the stock market has fallen,
I say, "Long live gravity! Long live
stupidity, error, and greed in the palaces
of fantasy capitalism!" I think
an economy should be based on thrift,
on taking care of things, not on theft,
usury, seduction, waste, and ruin.

My purpose is a language that can make us whole,
though mortal, ignorant, and small.
The world is whole beyond human knowing.
The body's life is its own, untouched
by the little clockwork of explanation.
I approve of death, when it comes in time
to the old. I don't want to live
on mortal terms forever, or survive
an hour as a cooling stew of pieces
of other people. I don't believe that life
or knowledge can be given by machines.
The machine economy has set afire
the household of the human soul,
and all the creatures are burning within it

"Intellectual property" names
the deed by which the mind is bought
and sold, the world enslaved. We
who do not own ourselves, being free,
own by theft what belongs to God,
to the living world, and equally
to us all. Or how can we own a part
of what we only can possess
entirely? Life is a gift we have
only by giving it back again.
Let us agree: "the laborer is worthy
of his hire," but he cannot own what he knows,
which must be freely told, or labor
dies with the laborer. The farmer
is worthy of the harvest made
in time, but he must leave the light
by which he planted, grew, and reaped,
the seed immortal in mortality,
freely to the time to come. The land
too he keeps by giving it up,
as the thinker receives and gives a thought,
as the singer sings in the common air.

I don't believe that "scientific genius"
in its naive assertions of power
is equal either to nature or
to human culture. Its thoughtless invasions
of the nuclei of atoms and cells
and this world's every habitation
have not brought us to the light
but sent us wandering farther through
the dark. Nor do I believe
.artistic genius" is the possession
of any artist. No one has made
the art by which one makes the works
of art. Each one who speaks speaks
as a convocation. We live as councils
of ghosts. It is not "human genius"
that makes us human, but an old love,
an old intelligence of the heart
we gather to us from the world,
from the creatures, from the angels
of inspiration, from the dead--
an intelligence merely nonexistent
to those who do not have it, but --
to those who have it more dear than life.

And just as tenderly to be known
are the affections that make a woman and a man
their household and their homeland one.
These too, though known, cannot be told
to those who do not know them, and fewer
of us learn them, year by year.
These affections are leaving the world
like the colors of extinct birds,
like the songs of a dead language.

Think of the genius of the animals,
every one truly what it is:
gnat, fox, minnow, swallow, each made
of light and luminous within itself.
They know (better than we do) how
to live in the places where they live.
And so I would like to be a true
human being, dear reader-a choice
not altogether possible now.
But this is what I'm for, the side
I'm on. And this is what you should
expect of me, as I expect it of
myself, though for realization we
may wait a thousand or a million years.

New book...

I ordered this a couple weeks ago from the Cathedral Bookstore (I'm trying not to use amazon for brand new books anymore), and it finally came. I started reading it the other night and I really dig it so far. She has a section at the end on the urban agriculture movement here in Detroit, which is pretty sweet. She's trying to fuse the agrarian writers (prophets) of the Hebrew scriptures with the contemporary writers, namely Wendell Berry. I've just begun, but so far I really like her perspective, and I'm excited to see where she takes it. I read ahead a little and she actually addresses the anti-city narrative of the Hebrew bible, including Ellul's Meaning of the City, and she neither embraces or fully denies the validity of this view and is more interested in engaging the reality of what is rather than what should be. I'm excited to read it. I'll have a review in the next Still Small Voice zine.

Winter...

Today was the first time of the year (not counting january-march) that I woke up to snow. As much as I love the seasons and Michigan I can't lie...I'm not excited at all to see snow. I guess mid-December is late for the first real snow of the season if fairly fortunate. I went against my better judgment yesterday, knowing the cold was coming. In the garden I have salad greens, kale, spinach, and some root crops. I thought of harvesting, but was busy with other projects. The root crops are now frozen in place and the salad greens are wilted and probably not salvageable. I'm going to check it out when I get home and hopefully some of the crops have held out. Its supposed to go above freezing in a couple days, and perhaps some things will bounce back. We'll see.

Carl just posted a podcast of our most recent Detroit Villages in which Jim Perkinson led us in a discussion on white privilige in the context of urban ministry. If this is something that interests you I highly encouraged you to give it a listen here: Emerge Detroit

The moving process is getting a little bit closer. We're projected to move in early February. Our housing situation is not set in stone, but we have a few solid options. There are a lot of really great opportunities to start moving toward long term goals and being grounded in place.

Last night our friends over at the Jeanie Wylie house hosted their monthly film and discussion night. The film was one called Poletown Lives!, about a Detroit neighborhood that struggled to protect their community from being decimated to build a new Cadillac Plant back in the early 80's. It was the second time seeing it, and fairly frustrating in some ways. The litany of the powers' choosing profits over the common good is relentless, and confirms my lack of faith in large institutions and is further incentive to continue to pursue change at the grassroots level. I have very little hope or energy for reforming governments and corporatations.

moving soon!

Well, I did it again. Way too long between updates. A lot has happened, but I won't bore you.

The biggest news is that we're most likely moving soon. We have a lot of logistics to work out and the details are pretty gray. If things go according to our current plan, we'll be moving to Brightmoor, Detroit. We will be renting-to-own to fairly small homes across the street from the brightmoor community garden. One of the major draws to the area is that there are already several other household living in a sort of intentional community. They are older than us and will hopefully give some amount of accountability and structure. There are some really great opportunities for urban farming. I think it might be one of the strangest neighborhoods that I've ever been in. On the one hand there are deer, hawks, and even foxes running around. The river rouge runs through the back yards. It feels like youre in a neighborhood in the forrest. This is juxtaposed by crack houses and prostitution. Its one of the poorest and most desolate places in the city. Yet there are a lot of exciting things going on there. Good people, good programs, good churches. I'm not totally sure what to make of it, but I am excited about it.

One of the most exciting (albeit scary!) things about moving there is the idea of being settled long term. Besides when I was a kid living at home with my family, I have never moved into a place with the mindset of permenance. This has sometimes negatively affected my attitude and work ethic toward places I've lived. Will this be different? How long will it take to break the "temoral" mentality? Will I be able to be fully present and give myself to the neighborhood? I don't really know the answer to those questions, and only time will tell. I am hopeful though. This is a truly exciting time for me and I think for all of us. We have desired an inter-generational, multi-cultural, multi-household community from the start...and thats what we'll be living within.

Here's an article about our block that recently was posted on a popular website: Urban Farming in Brightmoor

I still suck at this...

I always forget to update this thing!

Gathering around the unhewn stone
Oh to be back in Philly again. Rolling into town was a good feeling, full of butterflies in my belly and the whole nine yards. This was a really great gathering. Good topics. Good speakers. Good friends. I feel like I learned a lot and made a lot of important connections and perhaps more importantly some old re-connections. Its amazing to me how much buzz there is right now about anti-civilization within the young Christian radical community. I find it exciting and hopeful, though its hard to say where it will go. I overheard a lot of "I kinda agree, but..." types of conversations, which I think is good. This is a hard topic, and one that needs a lot of exploration with our lives, in our sacred texts, and the world around us. It must be a prayerful journey together, because advocating for the collapse of everything is advocating for the death of much (and consequently life for many other things). What part we can/should participate in this as followers of Jesus is one that requires a great deal of reflection. Nekeisha has a good summary of the conference here.

It was also really great to visit my friends and old community mates over in Camden, and go to Mass at Sacred Heart. It's really wonderful to return to places where so much growth and wrestling with life and understanding has happened. Being in Philly and Camden also made me realize how many people I love and miss because I never get to see them anymore. I just don't have the same sorts of connections here in Detroit that I do in the other places that I've lived.

The U.P.
Oh fall in Michigan! Upon returning from Philly, I fulfilled a hard promise that I made to my sister: several days of exploring the woods and waterfalls of the upper peninsula. By hard promise I mean joyous adventure! We went to Pictured Rocks, the Porkies, the Keweenaw, and a few other places. It was beautiful. Most of it was still peak colors for fall, though some were a little past peak. We got to go to the tiny town of Calumet where my dad was born...and the topic of the Woody Guthrie song "The 1913 Massacre". This song is a favorite for sure, so it was kinda neat to go there. I found it online with lyrics if you're interested.

Its funny to me how much people rave about tahquamenon falls, because a lot of the falls that we went to blew them away. I havent spent a ton of time up there, and it was my first time going to the north west portion of the UP. I loved it, and I'll definitely go back some time. I'll be posting some pictures soon.



more updates soon...