I'm doing clutterbusting this week, sorting through three decades of writing, collecting, hoarding, letters and cards. I'm burning an awful lot of stuff because it no longer pleases me or I've finally outgrown the need to cling to it, while saving some for some future purge.
One of my treasures unearthed is a photocopy of an article from Whole Earth Review, fall '85 (if you can imagine hanging onto something physical for that long...), called "Four Pairs: Eight Principles for Designing Natrual Systems," written by Dan Hemenway. The author edited The International Permaculture Seed Yearbook, a publication that explored sustainable agricultural practices.
I loved this article the moment I first laid eyes on it; maybe because of having grown up on a farm, or maybe because I went on to work with nature quite a lot in the form of the human organism. Either way, I decided to bring it here to share.
I'm not especially interested in designing natural systems, but I happen to be one myself, and I work to help restore others that are similar everyday, and, especially in light of the fact that each of us has a brain/mind that we are responsible for cultivating, I think these ideas are useful:
One of my treasures unearthed is a photocopy of an article from Whole Earth Review, fall '85 (if you can imagine hanging onto something physical for that long...), called "Four Pairs: Eight Principles for Designing Natrual Systems," written by Dan Hemenway. The author edited The International Permaculture Seed Yearbook, a publication that explored sustainable agricultural practices.
I loved this article the moment I first laid eyes on it; maybe because of having grown up on a farm, or maybe because I went on to work with nature quite a lot in the form of the human organism. Either way, I decided to bring it here to share.
I'm not especially interested in designing natural systems, but I happen to be one myself, and I work to help restore others that are similar everyday, and, especially in light of the fact that each of us has a brain/mind that we are responsible for cultivating, I think these ideas are useful:
For more than ten years, I have struggled for a way to express a practical philosophy (perhaps "art" is a better term) for living according to the principles of nature, because I still use these principles in the work I do nowdays.
The philosophy I seek carries within it patterns for reconstruction, healing, and renewal. Stock design formulas and recipes ignore the uniqueness of every person, place, and thing in creation and diminish our power to resond to them. I've learned rather to seek guidelines, not rules.
While I borrow freely from any appropriate source, I owe a special debt to my friend and teacher, Bill Mollison, whose coined word, "permaculture" I use to describe much of my own work. Bill's emphasis on human participation in the design process of nature fitted together for me the pieces I was gathering.
Working with these guidelines, I found that the patterns I observed fit within eight principles of design. None of these four pairs is likely to surprise anyone familiar with the wisdom within the various grounded religions and philosophies our species has articulated. Nonetheless we, especially those of us who are North Americans, rather routinely fail to observe them in our daily lives. I find their articulation helpful in evaluating my own lifestyle and seeking to correct my course.
While each of the principles is familiar in sense, if not practice, there is value in stating them together as part of a whole. That is perhaps the ninth principle: Everything is part of the whole. Problems which occur together often have common solutions. Ecologies are efficient and durable when all parts support capture, transformation, and storage of energy by the whole. Each whole is part of a larger whole, to the point where there are galaxies of galaxies of galaxies of galaxies of galaxies. Probably the principle continues beyond that level, but at that point human comprehension, even aided with instruments and computers, is exhausted.
There is a sense, then, in which each principle is an aspect of the others. The appearance of the connections between them is a function of our vantage point, where we stand at the moment. Each of these four pairs contains the image of the others.
A system which thinks in terms of creating scarcity by withholding the gifts that must always move and destroying genuine abundance, of "cornering the market," holding monopolies, manipulating "supply and demand," is not merely an enemy of the people. It is an enemy of life itself.
To me, the best way to respond to such a system is to withdraw my energy from it insofar as possible (one step at a time). That's just the conservation principle, avoiding actions which are unnecessary. However, conservation goes further, and restores broken cycles. That is our real work: to design many pathways for this renewal, based on a design that connects us in our diversity of resource and perspective.
I. ECONOMY AND ELEGANCE:
1. Do only what is necessary. This involves humility in realizing that our understanding is limited. It means a respect for the natural way in which things happen.
This is what the radical farmer Fukuoka means when he says that his is a "do-nothing" philosophy and why he always questions the reason for every task. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."
Conservation is always the first resource of "doing nothing." In its simplest terms, it is putting on a sweater instead of turning up the thermostat. As a state of mind, that's a fair beginning. In the deeper application, conservation means honoring the naural cycles, not breaking them apart which results in "waste."
Conservation involves passive restraint from change or disruption of natural systems and active participation within them.
2. Multiply purposes. Never do anything for only one reason. "Stack functions" is the way Bill Mollison expresses it.
In nature, all design is elegant. My hand is clearly designed for grasping. But it also serves as a heat radiator for my body, a weapon (fist), a signal device, a bodily support surface (as in pushups), a sensory organ, a carrier of affection (caresses), and an implement of communication (fingers in sand).
If we perceive several functions of an object of decision, then many more will be present. If we perceive only one function, then fear, greed, or our egos are in the way.
II. BALANCE
3. Be redundant. "Repeat function," Bill would say. "Don't put all your eggs in one basket" is how my grandmother put it. Look at any nutrient cycle or watershed. There is always a variety of pathways by which an ecosystem can proceed about its business. In nature, this is done so that each organism occupies a unique niche in an ecosystem; yet if any one species is removed, everything it does for the whole will be accomplished by other organisms.
A system's capacity for storage and resilience stems from its redundancy. It is the understanding of this principle, for example, that reveals that growing our food in monocultures, where everything hinges on the success of one species, is stupid and self-destructive.
4.Check your scale. Design and act within an appropriate size frame. Or, as Granny said,"Don't bite off more than you can chew." This is why permaculture starts at the backyard and works out.. to keep on a scale commensurate with our understanding. We are only responsible for the next step in whatever we are doing, and that step is always right before us, within our reach.
Issues of scale are tricky and require continuous attention to the consequences of a chosen scale. Small may be beautiful, but smallest is not always optimal. Some things can be done well only on a large scale (e.g., manufacture of photographic film), whereas others rapidly deteriorate with increasing scale (e.g., food preparation). The only cultural tools our society provides for evaluating scale are economic; these often lead to the selection of scales that are counterproductive, inefficient, and destructive.
III. RESILIENCE
5. Work with edges. That is where the action is. Straight lines have far less edge than waves. You know this instinctively. People gravitate to the edges, like a beach, the forest edge, the side of the path, or the living room wall (where we put our furniture).
Nature amplifies edges, as in your lungs or kidneys, when it wants to amplify energy transfer; it reduces surface edges, as in a dewdrop or a turtle shell, when it wants to limit transactions. There appears to be no limit to the extent that knowledge and awareness of edge effects can improve on a design. Study of edges in nature will improve our understanding and ability to use this principle.
6. Encourage diversity. Diversity here is intended to be diversity of relations between things, and not just a bunch of different structures assembled. A garden with an assortment of different plants randomly arranged will not be nearly as productive as one in which the plants are arranged as co-productive companions.
Designed diversity is a concept I find difficult to discuss separately from its intimate relationship to redundancy and edge effects. Diversity of pathways is redundancy. Diversity allows both stacking and repeating of function.
IV. RECIPROCITY
7. Look both ways before crossing. Everything works both ways. If the bank gives you 30 years to pay for your home, you give the system (the bank) 30 years of your life in indentured servitude. If energy can come in through a window, it can fly out a window. If it takes a lot of heat and time to warm a mass, it can give off heat for a long time. Death of individual cells is necesary for the life of other cells. What goes up must come down. Got it?
8.The gift must always move. This is the universal law of gifts. To survive and be well and joyous, we must transform and give away all gifts which come to us. This is how species of an ecosystem coexist. I accept the gift of oxygen from the trees and other plants and return it as carbon dioxide. We violate this principle when we accept food from the earth and do not return our urine and feces, but instead use it to contaminate water. To return a gift without transforming it to your nature is to reject it - it is an affront to the love of the universe.
The philosophy I seek carries within it patterns for reconstruction, healing, and renewal. Stock design formulas and recipes ignore the uniqueness of every person, place, and thing in creation and diminish our power to resond to them. I've learned rather to seek guidelines, not rules.
While I borrow freely from any appropriate source, I owe a special debt to my friend and teacher, Bill Mollison, whose coined word, "permaculture" I use to describe much of my own work. Bill's emphasis on human participation in the design process of nature fitted together for me the pieces I was gathering.
Working with these guidelines, I found that the patterns I observed fit within eight principles of design. None of these four pairs is likely to surprise anyone familiar with the wisdom within the various grounded religions and philosophies our species has articulated. Nonetheless we, especially those of us who are North Americans, rather routinely fail to observe them in our daily lives. I find their articulation helpful in evaluating my own lifestyle and seeking to correct my course.
While each of the principles is familiar in sense, if not practice, there is value in stating them together as part of a whole. That is perhaps the ninth principle: Everything is part of the whole. Problems which occur together often have common solutions. Ecologies are efficient and durable when all parts support capture, transformation, and storage of energy by the whole. Each whole is part of a larger whole, to the point where there are galaxies of galaxies of galaxies of galaxies of galaxies. Probably the principle continues beyond that level, but at that point human comprehension, even aided with instruments and computers, is exhausted.
There is a sense, then, in which each principle is an aspect of the others. The appearance of the connections between them is a function of our vantage point, where we stand at the moment. Each of these four pairs contains the image of the others.
A system which thinks in terms of creating scarcity by withholding the gifts that must always move and destroying genuine abundance, of "cornering the market," holding monopolies, manipulating "supply and demand," is not merely an enemy of the people. It is an enemy of life itself.
To me, the best way to respond to such a system is to withdraw my energy from it insofar as possible (one step at a time). That's just the conservation principle, avoiding actions which are unnecessary. However, conservation goes further, and restores broken cycles. That is our real work: to design many pathways for this renewal, based on a design that connects us in our diversity of resource and perspective.
I. ECONOMY AND ELEGANCE:
1. Do only what is necessary. This involves humility in realizing that our understanding is limited. It means a respect for the natural way in which things happen.
This is what the radical farmer Fukuoka means when he says that his is a "do-nothing" philosophy and why he always questions the reason for every task. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."
Conservation is always the first resource of "doing nothing." In its simplest terms, it is putting on a sweater instead of turning up the thermostat. As a state of mind, that's a fair beginning. In the deeper application, conservation means honoring the naural cycles, not breaking them apart which results in "waste."
Conservation involves passive restraint from change or disruption of natural systems and active participation within them.
2. Multiply purposes. Never do anything for only one reason. "Stack functions" is the way Bill Mollison expresses it.
In nature, all design is elegant. My hand is clearly designed for grasping. But it also serves as a heat radiator for my body, a weapon (fist), a signal device, a bodily support surface (as in pushups), a sensory organ, a carrier of affection (caresses), and an implement of communication (fingers in sand).
If we perceive several functions of an object of decision, then many more will be present. If we perceive only one function, then fear, greed, or our egos are in the way.
II. BALANCE
3. Be redundant. "Repeat function," Bill would say. "Don't put all your eggs in one basket" is how my grandmother put it. Look at any nutrient cycle or watershed. There is always a variety of pathways by which an ecosystem can proceed about its business. In nature, this is done so that each organism occupies a unique niche in an ecosystem; yet if any one species is removed, everything it does for the whole will be accomplished by other organisms.
A system's capacity for storage and resilience stems from its redundancy. It is the understanding of this principle, for example, that reveals that growing our food in monocultures, where everything hinges on the success of one species, is stupid and self-destructive.
4.Check your scale. Design and act within an appropriate size frame. Or, as Granny said,"Don't bite off more than you can chew." This is why permaculture starts at the backyard and works out.. to keep on a scale commensurate with our understanding. We are only responsible for the next step in whatever we are doing, and that step is always right before us, within our reach.
Issues of scale are tricky and require continuous attention to the consequences of a chosen scale. Small may be beautiful, but smallest is not always optimal. Some things can be done well only on a large scale (e.g., manufacture of photographic film), whereas others rapidly deteriorate with increasing scale (e.g., food preparation). The only cultural tools our society provides for evaluating scale are economic; these often lead to the selection of scales that are counterproductive, inefficient, and destructive.
III. RESILIENCE
5. Work with edges. That is where the action is. Straight lines have far less edge than waves. You know this instinctively. People gravitate to the edges, like a beach, the forest edge, the side of the path, or the living room wall (where we put our furniture).
Nature amplifies edges, as in your lungs or kidneys, when it wants to amplify energy transfer; it reduces surface edges, as in a dewdrop or a turtle shell, when it wants to limit transactions. There appears to be no limit to the extent that knowledge and awareness of edge effects can improve on a design. Study of edges in nature will improve our understanding and ability to use this principle.
6. Encourage diversity. Diversity here is intended to be diversity of relations between things, and not just a bunch of different structures assembled. A garden with an assortment of different plants randomly arranged will not be nearly as productive as one in which the plants are arranged as co-productive companions.
Designed diversity is a concept I find difficult to discuss separately from its intimate relationship to redundancy and edge effects. Diversity of pathways is redundancy. Diversity allows both stacking and repeating of function.
IV. RECIPROCITY
7. Look both ways before crossing. Everything works both ways. If the bank gives you 30 years to pay for your home, you give the system (the bank) 30 years of your life in indentured servitude. If energy can come in through a window, it can fly out a window. If it takes a lot of heat and time to warm a mass, it can give off heat for a long time. Death of individual cells is necesary for the life of other cells. What goes up must come down. Got it?
8.The gift must always move. This is the universal law of gifts. To survive and be well and joyous, we must transform and give away all gifts which come to us. This is how species of an ecosystem coexist. I accept the gift of oxygen from the trees and other plants and return it as carbon dioxide. We violate this principle when we accept food from the earth and do not return our urine and feces, but instead use it to contaminate water. To return a gift without transforming it to your nature is to reject it - it is an affront to the love of the universe.
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