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<br />
<br />,native groups of North America overlapped... almost
<br />exactly with broadly defined major bioregions."
<br />Native Americans thus knew a tragedy of the com-
<br />mons centuries before Mr. Hardin coined the phrase,
<br />as they lost their homes and cultures to colonizing
<br />Europeans. Mr, Snyder warns that we colonizers are
<br />now inflicting a similar fate upon ourselves:
<br />
<br />There will be no "tragedy of the
<br />commons" greater than this: if we do not
<br />recover the common-regain personal,
<br />local, community, and peoples' direct in-
<br />volvement in sharing (in being) the web of
<br />the wild world-that world will keep slip-
<br />ping away..
<br />
<br />And how can we even think without such a
<br />web? "Artificial intelligence" will take on new mean-
<br />ing as ways of thought follow artif"Ice. "Tawny Gram,
<br />mar" stresses that we are not rootless intelligences,
<br />but think with "grandparents, place, grammar, pets,
<br />friends, lovers, children, tools, and the poems and
<br />songs we remember."
<br />Friends of The Land Institute should remember
<br />"Good, Wild, Sacred" from the book Meeting the Ex-
<br />pectations of the Land. Reprinted in slightly different
<br />form in The Practice of the Wild, it connects the
<br />discussion of how our surroundings shape our
<br />thought with observations of a culture which has
<br />" known its surroundings for centuries. In "Blue
<br />Mountains Constantly Walking" the poet-anthropolo-
<br />gist,ecologist observes the Chinese interpretation of
<br />Mountains and Waters as a dyad symbolizing wisdom
<br />and compassion, then wonders about what they "say."
<br />In the terminology of conservation biologists, the
<br />Great Plains "say" bison,. ancient forests of the north-
<br />'west "say" spotted owl. Mountains and waters,
<br />wisdom and compassion, Mr. Snyder concludes, must'
<br />"say" all beings.
<br />The concluding essays provide additional
<br />examples of the practice of the wild and how we might
<br />learn of it and from it. "On the Path, Off the Trail" is
<br />notable for its gentle weaving of Zen, art, and ecology.
<br />We see that a forager, a person hungry for nourish-
<br />ment, does not walk along the
<br />path for long. Off the trail is
<br />where sustenance is found -
<br />and where we do our best work.
<br />"But you must f"Irst be on the
<br />path before you can turn and
<br />walk into the wild," warns Mr.
<br />Snyder. We can put ourselves
<br />, on the path by learning the
<br />creative processes of nature,
<br />then, using those processes as a
<br />model for our own actions,
<br />gracefully saunter off the trail.
<br />
<br />
<br />The Season Circle
<br />Tracy Noel
<br />
<br />Early in the fall during a "warm-up" session,
<br />we had a discussiot;l about ritual. From as far back as .
<br />pagan moonlight dimces, traveling the great cultural
<br />distance to our modern day graduations, rituals have
<br />been important in our culture. Sometimes it is diffi-
<br />cult, though, to fignre out exactly what role some of
<br />the modern rituals play.
<br />Long ago, and still for some cultural groups,
<br />many rituals centered around natural events. The
<br />changing seasons, rains, ripening of plants for har-
<br />vest, and the migration ,of animals for hunting were
<br />of primary importance and widely celebrated. To-
<br />day's society has lost touch with many of these
<br />natural connections. 1\1' ow we celebrate the football
<br />season with homecomings and Superbowls, and
<br />imitate the cannons and gunf"Ire of years of bloodshed
<br />with fireworks on the fourth of July. Some people
<br />believe it is important to recognize and celebrate the
<br />natural world, both individually and communally.
<br />This requires a good bit of creativity, since much
<br />must be created anew or redesigned from the
<br />remnants of a largely forgotten past.
<br />The idea of creating an "earth circle" or "season
<br />circle" at The Land Institute had been floating
<br />around among the interns for a month or two before
<br />our warm-up discussion. As the fall equinox ap-
<br />proached, we realized that it was the right time to
<br />carry out plans for the circle.
<br />We needed an open space with a clear view of
<br />the horizon on the east and west. A small, sparsely
<br />vegetated section of rocky soil east of the parking lot
<br />near the Wauhob Prairie prove,q ideal. On the
<br />afternoon of September 21 we dug a hole and set a
<br />native osage orange pole to prepare for the equinox.
<br />At sunrise two days later, we placed the first of
<br />several limestone slabs embossed with ancient fossils
<br />from eastern Kansas to mark the due east rising sun.
<br />This point marked the radius for drawing the rest of
<br />the circle. We used a strip of nylon webbing to make
<br />a compass by tying one end to the top of the pole and
<br />stretching the other to where we placed the stones.
<br />Following this end around the pole we scraped a
<br />circle in the ground and later covered the scrape with
<br />wood chips. Just before sunset we collected stones
<br />from the Smoky Hill River, which borders the west
<br />edge of The Land. As the sun was setting we set the
<br />largest stone on the circle directly in line with the
<br />pole and the sun. We stacked the other stones on top
<br />and watched the last summer sun disappear. Au-
<br />tumn had begnn, and our season circle was com-
<br />pleted-for now.
<br />We invite future interns to set stones in the
<br />season circle during the solstices and other occasions
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