Peter Forbes of the Trust for Public Lands: Take Steps Toward Environmental Healing and Economic/Racial Justice
The Stone of Hope
I see my job to feed and nourish you, with words.
This is a stone that I've carried in my pocket for 25 years, from the coast of Maine. And as I speak, I want to go around the room.
I believe life is molecules held together by stories.
The Birmingham church bomb—although I am white and live in Vermont, I'm never far from that story. Or the story of Emmett Till, the 14 year old who was sent to MS to enjoy the sun, and came back in a pine box. These memories have made it extremely difficult for Evelyn White (Alice Walker's biographer) to admire nature today: "I was afraid that I'd be taunted, attacked , raped, maybe murdered because of the color of my skin."
At a conference, she cleared her voice and told us directly that she was terrified. Farms, woods were not happy places for her. This was a difficult moment, a hard way for us to start together. Her flashlight failed and Jennifer, the youngest person, took her arm and led her to her tent. Evelyn would later write, "no matter where I go, I carry Emmett Till and those four girls, but I am comforted, I am less fearful, I am ready to come home.
The question is, what is home today. When the levees broke [in New Orleans], this country woke to a very disappointing prophecy. We woke to plainly see that our home is a divided and impoverished nation, judged not by our wealth but by our willingness to leave some behind.
We're asking, what do we wish for? To be whole again. To be proud to serve one another, to trust and be trusted. To truly feel safe, not from police or burglar alarms, but from the peace that arises when we no longer eat in front of those who are hungry. And for me, to be firmly rooted in my own place, in Vermont, but to live with the truth that many have had their land stolen from them. No boundary should survive suffering.
What is the spell we have fallen under to create the world we do live in? It's woven into the 3000 advertisements that reach our children every day, and turns our hearts away from one another. This spell that nature is inexhaustible, that the point of trees is board-feet, the point of land is money, and the point of living is to consume. It tricks us into thinking that [the need to be happy] can be accomplished finally and simply by buying.
This disconnection and alienation—25% now experience serious clinical depression, even higher above $150,000 per year annual income. We produce more malls than high schools, more prisoners than farmers. 270 acres are destroyed per hour—is that progress, or is that extinction? What's been called an environmental crisis is not about the earth, it's about our hearts. The disconnection, isolation. The spell tells us that progress pays no attention to the individual. This is the big lie. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, "We need a stone of hope among the mountains of despair." We need to re-pair, to bring together again. At the expense of others, it's not healing,. There can be no healing for some of us, it must be all of us.
What if I told you that everything we need is already at hand? There's no special membership, no required education. It's open to red and blue states, bankers and farmers, people in suits and those who can't afford decent clothes.
What we need hasn't gone away—we have. We're always seeking the sun's rhythms. The sound of the earth's heartbeat. We answer this call when we stand in front of ocean waves, when we do something our heart begs us to do. Whenever we merge our sense of awe with of justice. It's the voice of life, the intimate experience of earth, water, and sky. It's the wonder that binds us together, it's the wonder that we need. For all of us. That wonder will save us, because inspiration always leads to transformation. When we realize that everything we've piled outside our hearts is lost—the cravings that make us greedy, they simply disappear. The more people feel and respond to that wonder, the more we and our politics and our countries will change.
The land is also where people's blood has been spilt.
The very best aspects of the American spirit come from how we've lived on the land. But so has our intolerance.
And still, today, the soul of our country is born from those epic choices about relationship to land. And it could be good, bad, or ugly
These forces, that relationship, is the foundation of our cultural house. Our relationship to the land is the place where we start to build that healthy culture. How you live, what you eat, who you welcome to the table. It's about love and healing, about relationships. Average Americans get this—they don't need to know the science. Thankfully, love still grabs us by throat. Neither rational nor logical, it pulls us to where we really want to go,. Reconnecting to the land is the first step in diverse people coming to know and aid one another. I know that soul waits to be relit. This is my stone of hope in a mountain of despair. If we're brave enough to have even a modest relationship with the land, that love will transform our relationships. That's where we get those clues about what is healthy, fair. It heals the trauma of our separation. It begins to address the broken underbelly of our culture. The restoration of that relationship is the Great Work, the big repair job, what's remaining in people's lives. It's held in that stone, it's in your skin. And that's my stone of hope.
Preserving Lands Throughout America
The best and brightest are not going into law, they're going into organic farming and seed saving. Put down your laptops and pick up a shovel! Show your civil disobedience, grow your own food.
It sounds so simple, so soft. It doesn't fit today's appetite for bold solutions—that's what the industrial society wants you to believe. They know nothing is more threatening to their industrialized consumerist society. The most radical thing you can do is stay in a place. this is going forward, not backward.
There are more than 2000 CSA (community supported agriculture) farms in the US; that's the fastest growing part of farming. There were almost none 15 years ago.
That same 2004 election, 161 communities, red and blue, conservative and liberal, passed bond campaigns to save local landscapes, putting themselves in debt to save land.
1200 schools have started gardens in the last five years, said no thanks to the corporations that make millions of dollars feeding our children and our prisoners.
It's seen in the growth of 1600 local land trusts. 20 years ago there were just a handful.
I like to think of myself as part of a new underground railroad. The work of liberating people from ways of life that deny them fairness and justice. This underground railroad saves people through inspiration and opportunity, to replace the culture of fear with the culture of care and attention. It's about following the flame of love.
Classy Parker is a 3rd-generation resident of 121st Street in Harlem. Her grandmother lived in the same building. When I met her, she was flipping burgers at the White Castle. She was thinking of her parents. She got the radical idea to turn a vacant lot outside her apartment building into a garden. That was almost ten years ago. She produces food and beauty and tolerance for more than 500 families in central Harlem. Don't tell me New Yorkers don't have a relationship to the land! It is less than a quarter-acre, but it is their own piece of land to which they have developed their own attachment.
"Once I started working with the earth, the love in people started coming out. And they started telling me their life stories, so it was like a healing for them too. We think of ourselves as city farmers, never environmentalists. We love people and plants and working with the earth. This is one of the few places in Harlem where they can be free to be themselves. People gonna go where they feel the flow of love. We're not going to judge you because you're a different culture or you're a male. Don't you feel like my dad's your dad?"
I wasn't prepared for her candor, her hopefulness. I looked at her father ten feet away, 87 years old, garden dirt on his face. Passing each other on the street, outside that garden, our eyes might never have met. But [our connection] was profound. It was the awareness that my own pulse beat within him.
Make Personal Choices/Redesign the Systems: Visionary Yet Practical Steps Toward the Future we Want