Permaculture

Snap. I’m in a class, sat uncomfortably on a meditation cushion. The classroom has no walls and a thatched leaf roof, in the middle of a jungle set amongst earthbag meditation domes, pitch black silent semi-spheres from another planet, and rumor has it one of the residents spent 21 days locked inside in a meditative trance without repreve. Did I choose right? Is this the hilarious worst-case scenario we had joked about?

After I bought my tickets to Thailand, I was caught in a desperate struggle with myself, searching for something more to look forward to, as if 6 months in Asia wasn’t enough. In some radical turn of synchronicity, I had found a Permaculture course set to begin 5 days after we arrived in Thailand, on the small island of Koh Phangan. Now I have been to Koh Phangan many times before, and through these experiences I would be justified in either being intensely excited or shit my pants nervous. Here’s a picture of what I usually look like when I come to Koh Phangan:


Stop hatin, start participatin

This time I swore it would be different, so re-snap back to the moment, sat before our pleasant mannered teacher, listening with cautious intent. He tells us we will not be the same after the course, but not in the same way any snake oil salesman would. His manner is gentle, devoid of ego, and like most people who have amazing things to talk about, he listens with perfect presence. Plus, he has a ponytail and is obviously warm and inviting, (uncommon), and when he told me I wouldn’t be the same, he was dead right.

The problem I’ve always had with end of the world postulation is it is not for the everyman. Either the reasons for doomsday are unavoidable on my part, or in case of prevention, require endurance through a laundry list of actions that would make the end of the world a welcome respite. So when the Permaculturalists tell me that in order to save the world I should be getting nature to do all my work and sit back and enjoy doing bugger all, my ears prick up, and I move from slouch to attention on my impractical little floor cushion.

Basically, Permaculture is the science of understanding patterns in nature, then tweaking them to make life both easy and sustainable. Bill Mollinson had started the movement in the 80’s, and it has seen a steady rise ever since. He states that the biggest problem humans face today is not war, immigration or poverty but in fact soil, the fact that there is not much left, and the fact we are all hopelessly ill informed to do anything about it. The upshot is that we can create good soils reasonably easy, that the process is reversible, and that we can pre-empt our own collapse.

I tend to err towards the fence on the matter of the conspiracy theorist, the beauty being that it is always someone elses problem. I never had to do anything, it wouldn’t affect me even if I did have to, and most of the ‘facts’ they gave me were non observable phenomenon. If you've been molested by ET, I do want to believe you, but I will be needing a grainy, black and white camera-phone video at least, a variety of positions rewarding a definitive bonus point. But these musings are not the case in Permaculture.

Observably, it seems we have lost our connection with Nature. The process that bore us through a chain of ever increasing complexity has been cast aside, a product of a bygone era. The problem with this is that there are checks and balances, there is an accounting in this machine, and any arrears owed at the end of the month require payment more or less immediately. It is not divine judgement that will end us, but terrible accounting.

Thankfully, seeking to understand this process does not require Thai fisherman pants, dreadlocks and a sense of entitlement. I exhale a sigh of relief, mainly because I’ve had dreadlocks before and they are gross as all hell. Plus, hippies smell.

So it was a fortnight of mind expansion, and I feel invigorated with a new sense of purpose and life direction. The science of Permaculture is practical, and I now seek to create a sustainable farm. Equally beautiful is the fact that Maz is on board, her change of direction evidence of the logic and wonderful opportunity ingrained within this knowledge. There is an emptiness that has been there since I said goodbye to those carefree days swimming in waterholes and climbing trees and hello to pubic hair, concrete and western civilization. Now I see I can have the best of both worlds.

Our final night we sang songs into the candle-lit darkness and felt truly happy.

But after our two week stint, the islands seemed so tired. I felt the familiarity of escape rather than the thrill of experience, and although it’s nice to be distracted sometimes, it’s not why I’m here. So we book a train for Chiang Mai, packed our bags and said goodbye to the end of the beginning.

x



Preaching to the converted

Koh Phangan Sunset

The Beautiful Couple