Slow Living: An Introduction

The third annual Slow Living Summit happens next month (June 5 – 9) in Brattleboro, VT. As the ideas of the Slow Living movement underscore my life here on Saddleback Mountain, it follows that I am enthusiastic about the event and that I encourage everyone to attend.

Here is a helpful introduction to Slow Living:

The concept of Slow Living is built on the metaphor of “slow,” as used by other visionary organizations like Slow Food and Slow Money. “Slow” encompasses several layers of meaning that go beyond simply “sustainable.” Slow is the opposite of “fast” — fast food, fast money, fast living — and all of the negative consequences “fast” has had for the environment and for the health of people and societies. “Slow” embodies cooperation, respect, sustainability, gratitude and resilience. But “Living” is also a key word in our name and our vision. “Living” should be mindful and purposeful, but also celebratory and filled with beauty, joy and gratitude. Defining what is meant by living well, or by a life well lived, is as relevant today as it was to the ancients — and as difficult. Combining these words, “Slow Living” is a more reflective approach to answering how we live, work and play as human beings on a fragile Earth. When we Live Slow, we give back and become more strongly connected to the Earth, to our communities, to our neighbors and to ourselves. A Slow Life is one that seeks the right balance between spirituality, sensuality, introspection and community. A Slow Life recognizes our role as members of our bioregions and of our Earth, taking a nourishing, rather than extractive approach.

You can learn more about the Summit, and the ideas that drive the movement, here:

http://www.slowlivingsummit.org/

My Daughter’s Faceless Amish Doll

Even if you, like me, have little interest in dolls, take a second and look at this one. It’s my daughter’s. My wife and I gave it to her for Christmas.

Why Small Farms Matter Big: 13 Reasons

Small farms matter big because:

3 days 2 nights with garlic

My wife and daughter were away in Oregon last week, so I took the opportunity to indulge in something neither of them fully appreciates—the smell of just-harvested garlic. The day after they left, I pulled the entirety of this year’s planting (three wheelbarrow loads) and moved it into our house.  I spread it out on the kitchen table, and what didn’t fit there I laid under the table.

By evening the house smelled just as I hoped—like a barn loft filled with garlic. In the mud room, the kitchen, the living room, upstairs—everywhere, that whole-earth garlic smell. Plus, there was garlic to look at it, too, neck-to-neck on a table I made in the center of a house I built. It was a new combination of things, the stuff of my hands, my life, my meaning.

Tobacco Farmers, South Deerfield, MA, 1947

Here’s a photo by Gordon Park (1912 – 2006) that I have looked at countless times. These three faces.  The woman, not sure what to make of being photographed; the boy, slightly pleased; the man, nervous, annoyed,  humiliated.

The vulnerability captured here is remarkable–the vulnerability that has attended farming from the beginning.