Community as the Antidote for Internal and External Collapse and the role Transition Towns Play in Administering the Medicine
Oil will peak. I get it. M. K. Hubbert was right on target (maybe not with his exact calculations but at least in theory). A system based on growth but dependent on a finite resource is destined for collapse. We are killing our planet, paving our world, and letting faceless corporations eat us raw. I get it. I read Richard Heinberg, and I watched The End of Suburbia, An Inconvenient Truth, The Corporation, and The 11th Hour. I am convinced that this thing we call civilization is ludicrously based on profit and is a madman’s interpretation of the pursuit of happiness. I recognize the insanity. The illusion that participating in the race for stainless steel appliances and ride-on lawn mowers as a worthy endeavor is squashed forever.
So now what?
Guilt. Guilt, because I cannot ride my bike to work from my home in La Conchita to Santa Barbara. Guilt, because I cannot keep a house plant alive, never mind grow a garden. Guilt, because my idea of fresh fruit is Motts applesauce. Guilt, because I just printed an 859-page document for work. Guilt; because I worked a long day and I am about to heat up this frozen, chemically-processed, pesticide-filled pizza.
This guilt I speak of is generated by what I refer to as the Great Lag. The Great Lag is my word for what is currently happening all over the globe. The Great Lag is what occurs when a person awakens to the reality in which we find ourselves (a heating planet, dying species, loss of sacred forests, peak oil, etc) and then comes to find there is no mechanism in place to react appropriately. Sure there are farmers’ markets you can go to once a week, and solar panels you can buy, and films you watch, but the majority of your day is still spent drenched in a matrix that you have just realized is headed for collapse. You crave to live off the grid yet you are so utterly dependent on it that it leaves you feeling like one big sham.
And what suggestions does the media culture have on how to handle this? Buy Shit. It tells me to buy eco-water bottles, t-shirts with recycle logos, and bags that claim “I am not made of plastic.” Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the underlying attempt in all of these ideas. But is this really all that the greatest contributor to global warming can come up with?
What if I don’t feel better after changing my light bulb, or buying a reusable bag, or switching to online banking? I recognize that any increase in awareness about our planet’s condition is a positive shift, but I find these suggestions insanely inappropriate to the magnitude of what we are facing. Is it justifiable that my contribution to healing a planet so sick it may not be hospitable to my grandchildren consist of turning my refrigerator setting down to 2?
It is because of the Great Lag that we are left with such pathetic attempts to relieve our guilt. Our infrastructure is not designed to support the movement towards sustainability at the rate in which our consciousness demands. Awakening is instantaneous, while democracy is as hard to move as the Titanic.
And the Great Lag is worse for those without the means to switch to organic clothing, buy solar panels, grow fruit, or offset their emissions. The more I read about what I can do, the more depressed I get about not being able to afford any of these suggestions. I am having trouble making rent each month, never mind buying solar panels and organic cotton. I don’t have access to soil to grow my own vegetables. If I have $20 to last until my next paycheck, where do you think I am going to go shopping – my local Co Op or Vons? I am going to stock up on high fructose corn syrup, pesticides, and MSG at the nearest linoleum-smelling box grocery store.
I yearn for a garden, yet here I am microwaving a frozen Hot Pocket. I crave to cruise on my bike, yet here I am sitting in rush-hour traffic. I long to create a baby and actively take part in a natural and organic birth, yet here I am laying under the bright lights of Planned Parenthood with my legs spread wide and metal up my crotch. I dream of a world where children are not pumped with a drug that is outrageously similar to meth, yet here I am reaching into the medicine cabinet for something to help me get some shut-eye. I write angry essays about consumption, yet here I am checking the accruing debt on my Citi Bank credit card. I am starving to participate in the creation of my food, yet here I am adding water to Campbell’s condensed soup.
My innermost intuitive cravings and ambitions are so far from alignment with my daily living that what is generated is a constant nagging of guilt and hypocrisy. This feeling occasionally gives way to spontaneous outbursts of joy and creation but is inevitably followed by frustration. Sometimes I feel so close to creating the impossible and unleashing a new paradigm, yet other times I feel that the mechanical, plastic world will forever drown out my visions.
What is the antidote for such an emotional roller coaster? What is the means to transforming ideas into actions? What is the answer to the greatest crisis in human history?
Community
Burying myself in books such as The Party’s Over, The Omnivore’s Dilemma, The Long Emergency, Simple Prosperity, and A New Earth has been an eye-opening experience. However, no amount of information can substitute for the experience of community. Community opens the doors to healing, provides a platform for ideas, builds bridges of trust and hope, provides a sense of security as well as adventure, and is the vital catalyst for transforming ideas into realities. No amount of information can combat the stagnant world of isolation. If one experiences the Great Lag while living in a world of isolation, they are destined for the same roller coaster ride of emotions that I have experienced. (My Sangha at the Mahakankala Buddhist Center has been a precious jewel in coping with these emotions: www.meditateinsantabarbara.org.)
This is what M.K Hubbert was speaking of when he stated, “We have an enormous amount of existing technical knowledge; it is just a matter of putting it all together.” The answer lies within each of us, but this alone is not enough. We need community in order to “unleash the collective genius of our own people.” And that is where Transition Town comes in.
Transition Town is more an attitude than a model. The attitude is both a somber honoring of the emotions associated with accepting our current reality, as well as a celebratory outpouring of joy at the opportunity to create a new way of being, relating, and experiencing. The mission of a Transition Town is to “transition to a thriving and resilient local community” that is not dependent on oil or any other finite natural resource.
I recently attended a Santa Barbara Transition Town meeting at Linda and Larry Saltzman’s house. I went with the expectation that I would find out what a Transition Town is, what it looks like, how to do it, and what steps I would take next. However, this is not how Transition Towns operate. If there was one thing that was emphasized the most at the meeting, it was that each person in our community is invited to take ownership in this journey. This means that there is no road map to Transitioning. The journey is one that is organic, unknown, and adventurous. It is more a process that unfolds than a goal to be attained. This was relieving to hear, for we need to be vigilant that we don’t merely create another institution that people must mold themselves into, but that we create a community in which all human beings are active, celebrated, and honored.
The Seed Committee is the committee of people who are responsible for bringing Transition Town right to Santa Barbara. At the meeting, they emphasized that they are not leaders. They are ignitors of the fire of creation within us, and they are just as curious as we are as to what will unfold from this contagious inferno.
Attendees of the meeting were jam-packed into Linda and Larry’s living room, which is surrounded by an organic fruit forest. We feasted on homemade breads, hot casseroles, and fresh-baked cookies. People who attended were an early-child-care professional, global marketer, architect, city recycling coordinator, transportation planner, investment advisor, psychotherapist, attorney, farmer, website designer, irrigation specialist, non-profit founder, wind turbine designer, Spanish teacher, carpenter….
Present at the meeting were three Seed Committee members who had recently attended the Transition Town Training in San Francisco. Cat, Eric, and Sarah each shared what they took from the training. Cat spoke of how it is important to acknowledge the mindsets that brought us to this point, such as fear of worthlessness, fear of powerlessness, and fear of danger. These fears have contributed to our isolation from nature as well as created our insatiable appetite for consumption. Consumption has proved futile in relieving our fears. Cat emphasized that by participating in Transition Town, you will inevitably experience a transition within yourself. [See Cat’s report in this issue of HopeDance.]
Sarah pointed out that in the course of the transition journey, one must acknowledge his or her perspective is one of 6 billion, and, therefore, it is vital all members work toward opening themselves and abandoning their attachment to being right. Sarah emphasized that as we embark on this journey, we must remain open to varying levels of awareness pertaining to subjects such as peak oil, global warming, organic food, permaculture, and conflict resolution. We need to recognize that every single person in our community, without exception, has a gift to give, and that if we are not willing to adapt to different levels of awareness and urgency, than we lose the opportunity to receive precious gifts.
Eric’s thoughts on Transition Towns were eye-opening as he commented that Transition Towns defy classification. While environmental, simplicity, and permaculture movements are all exciting opportunities for growth, none of them are as inclusive as the Transition Town movement. This is because its members do not have to have the same goal, motive, or interest. Transition Town includes the investment banker who would like to expand the meaning of commerce, the farmer who would like to open a vegetable stand, the college student who is sick of Ramen noodles, the five-year-old who just wants to climb trees, the non-profit founder who wants to open up a sacred sanctuary for people to heal, the busy mother of three who wants to stop feeding high fructose corn syrup to her children, the poet who writes dark and dreary poetry about the capitalistic machine, and the architect who wants to form a communal living space.
At the meeting, we were invited to share what we thought a Transition Town would look, feel, and smell like. People said that they saw children running through back yards as they headed for the tangled-up world of the forests. They saw Earth Shrines in yards which reminded people to give thanks to that which gives them life. People saw neighborhood potlucks. They saw a 26-year-old woman paying her rent by teaching yoga to her landlord’s children They saw classes on composting, grey water, and gardening held at local parks. They saw people exchanging, bartering, and developing a local currency. They saw hemp being used to localize clothing. They saw communal living. They saw community.
With the collision of so many perspectives and voices, there are bound to be debates over certain issues. Due to the energy of the movement, these debates are rich with opportunity to learn, expand, and grow. At the Transition Town meeting, we debated on the role of fear. While some felt that fear has no place in such a celebratory awakening, others felt that fear is a natural response upon the realization of our planet’s state, and should be honored and recognized in order for authentic healing to occur. We also discussed what role the internet, Google groups, and websites would have in such a movement. While some felt moments-away from flinging their laptops out the window, others felt that these tools are vital in the forming of a community during these fast-paced modern times. During these debates, we put Sarah’s words into practice by realizing that nothing is in-and-of-itself good or bad. Everything depends on perspective, and all perspectives deserve acknowledgment.
I left the Transition Town meeting feeling like something lay ahead for me. I left feeling that I had something to offer. Most importantly I felt that the Great Lag was finally being addressed. I felt I was, for the first time in my life, hearing an appropriate reaction to the situation at hand. This brought immense relief, hope, sanity, and ideas. I left feeling that the possibilities were endless and something had been started that would grow, evolve, and take shape in ways that no one can even attempt to predict.
Does this sound like something you want to take part in? Whether you are hungry to get your hands dirty, depressed by Christmas consumption, eager to learn how to garden, confused about where your food comes from, anxious about economic collapse, sick of frozen pizza, interested to know more about the current planetary situation, or just curious as to what-the-hell I am talking about, you are invited to participate in Transition Town. Check out more about Transition Town Santa Barbara by going to http://transitioncalifornia.ning.com/group/transitionsantabarbara.
We highly recommend you check out Rob Hopkins’ The Transition Handbook, a tool for initiating the Transition process. But as Larry pointed out, the final chapter – which is about what happens once the Transition Town is in place – is left for the community to write. This is our story. As one man said in the meeting, “We are writing our own narrative, and the problems we face can be considered the dramatic tension that any great story always contains.”
For all things local in Santa Barbara, please visit www.sblocal.org.
For more information on a local spiritual place of refuge, go to www.meditateinsantabarbara.org
For a Transition PORTAL please visit http://www.hopedance.org/cms/content/view/535/1
Katie Liljedahl is grateful for her fiance, her dogs, Santa Barbara weather, pioneers in reconnection with the planet such as Joanna Macy, and her sangha community at the Mahakankala Buddhist Center. She documents the many moods, emotions, and experiences that accompany this transition and is grateful to share them with the community. You can send comments to katielilj@gmail.com.
