It all starts innocently enough.  The wild horses range rather freely, grazing on a variety of grasses and moving around constantly, which prevents overgrazing.  They know where the good watering holes are and where predators hang out.  The band cooperates for survival.  They live in natural rhythm with the land and seasons and other wild animals.

Once upon a time, people grew most of their own food.  They had small farms with gardens, grains, and a collection of livestock.  Some of the folks lived in town, but they purchased their food from their farmer neighbors.  In turn, the farmers bought goods and services from the town folks.  Because there were lots of small farms, a person usually had a choice about where to buy their food and they knew who was growing it.  Farmers knew their reputation was at stake, so they worked to earn the trust of their patrons.

One day, some riders appear.  They fan out around the select group of horses, and start gradually moving them in the desired direction.  If the horses are particularly skittish, the riders may spend several days camping near the band to have the horses become accustomed to their presence.  As long as there is food and water, the wild horses seem fairly content.

Gradually, cities grew. Machines were invented. People worked in factories, producing various items of necessity. Tractor power replaced horse power on the small farms, and one farmer could tend to more land.  Some farmers bought up more land from their neighbor farmers, who were willing to sell for various reasons. Some farmers began to specialize in raising one type of crop, such as corn or wheat, or one type of meat animal, such as chickens or hogs. At the same time, the processing of these crops and meat animals started to become a specialty; it was no longer done on the farms, but at facilities owned by companies.  Food was distributed to city dwellers by various companies.

The wild horses steadily move away from the riders, who, in turn, steadily follow.  The band groups together; some are becoming alarmed.  They pick up the pace, attempting to put distance between themselves and the intruders.   When the band attempts to change direction, the riders carefully manage the detour and pretty soon the band is again on its way toward the canyon.  The valley gradually narrows.

Companies and corporations are formed to pool money for the purpose of accomplishing tasks that are too large for an individual or a small group of individuals. This has always been a two-edged sword. The danger is made manifest when the corporation becomes too large or corrupt, and wields more power than individual citizens or communities. Corporations began to buy crop land or pay farmers to raise crops for them.  Corporations began to hire livestock producers to raise animals that the corporations owned. Mono-cropping (raising fields of one crop type) left crops highly susceptible to disease or pests.  Crowding of livestock resulted in high levels of disease and parasites.  Chemical pesticides, herbicides and medications came into wide-spread use.  At first the problems seemed solved.  But the weeds, parasites and bacteria evolved.  They became resistant, thus necessitating deadlier chemicals.  The cycle repeated itself over and over.  Still, the farms grew in size, while the number of actual farmers plummeted.  Citizen consumers, meanwhile, became enamored with grocery stores and supermarkets.  No longer did they have to milk the cow; milk appeared in bottles and cartons.  For awhile, food was basically recognizable.  Gradually, all manner of boxed and canned items materialized, with claims of nutrition and incredible flavor. So many choices!  So easy to fix! Never mind that the list of ingredients became ever longer and the names of the ingredients more unpronounceable. This was food heaven.

The wild horses break into a run, disturbed that the riders are still following so close.  Some of the lead horses surge ahead , looking for escape routes.  A few try again to veer off the path; the riders deftly and decisively force them back to the herd, knowing that it wouldn’t take long for the rest of the band to catch on and bolt away from the intended trap route.

Corporations, being rather organized, wealthy and very un-democratic, began to work together to shape economics and laws that benefitted themselves.  Farming became ever more expensive, which heightened the barrier preventing new farmers from even getting started.  Weather and markets contributed to volatility in farming, as they always had.  The central government at some point stepped in and offered subsidies, designed to stabilize agriculture and provide food for citizens.  Consumers were fairly oblivious, thanks to the lower costs of their increasingly complex food items.  Little by little, the large corporate farms began to merge, thus gaining larger market shares and subsidies.

When the central government would attempt to protect citizens and communities from the growing hazards of industrial farms, livestock production and feedlots, the corporations would lobby for their rights, which had been steadily granted by various legislative bodies.  Meanwhile, the meat-packing plants and food manufacturing plants grew and consolidated until only a handful now remain. This fact has been disguised from the citizen consumers by peppering the multitude of products with scores of different brand names, thus creating the illusion of choice. Low food prices, due in part to low wages paid to production workers, lulls the consumer into complacency.

By now the herd is strung out, but lined up and galloping toward the trap.  In their panic, they are no longer aware of much else.  Moving forward seems equivalent to survival, so onward they run.  The stragglers, young and old, fall back – exhausted, injured, dying; the riders don’t care.  Suddenly, the herd leaders find themselves in the box canyon, with its high, steep walls.  There is no way out!  They turn and begin to gallop back the way they had come.  They encounter the other members of the herd, and chaos ensues as the horses mill about , deciding whom to follow.  Which way do we go?  What has happened? How did we not sense the trap?

These corporations have also contributed vast sums of money to politicians, who would then grant them favors after gaining seats in local, state or federal governments.  Corporate officers were appointed to various government committees.  Now the foxes were guarding the hen houses.  At some point, the corporations were given permission to patent the “life” – seeds and animals – that they developed through genetic engineering.  These new entities were considered similar enough to natural entities to allow for their use without extensive testing.  The corporations sell the seeds to farmers, who plant them and raise the crop.  But the farmers  cannot keep any of the seeds produced by the plants grown on their land, because the corporation owns the rights to them.  The farmer must buy new seed every year, at the price conveniently set by the corporation.  The farmers attempt to buy from other corporations instead, only to find that there are really only a few to choose from, and those few collude to keep prices in their favor.  Pollen from the altered plants spreads to neighbors’ fields; corporations accuse these unsuspecting farmers of stealing, and file lawsuits against them.

Some of the citizen consumers are becoming increasingly alarmed by the chronic diseases associated with rapant chemical use, the outbreaks of new and deadly strains of antibiotic resistant bacteria found in some food items, the unquestionable degradation and loss of our once incredibly rich, productive soils, the ballooning volume of chemicals and toxic waste polluting our various sources of water, and the untested personal and environmental consequences of genetically modified organisms. These people also realize the danger of having a handful of megacorporations controlling all of their food supply chain, from planting, to production, to distribution. This fact is very ominous; it is contrary to any idea of personal and national security.

The herd of wild horses has turned, racing back toward their former lands.  The riders are using all their tricks to stop them.  The barrier fence has been closed across the valley opening and the riders form a menacing wall.   But this may not be enough to stop a group of determined horses who have realized their mistake, and refuse to give up their freedom so easily.  If the herd is large enough…

The last decade has seen the explosion of farmer’s markets and various types of community supported agriculture systems. People want to meet the farmers that are growing their food.   Increasing numbers of consumers are seeking out produce, meats and other products that are grown in manners that support the environment; these consumers are willing to pay more for these products.  Methods of farming that heal the soil and ecosystems are being shared and adopted.  One by one, the farmers themselves are being restored to a higher place of honor.  Young people are seeking to apprentice with farmers and to buy their own farms.

Even city dwellers are planting their own gardens, in place of their former lawns, or in pots on their patios and rooftops.  Abandoned lots are being converted to gardens.  Chickens abound in some city backyards.  People are choosing to eat locally produced and seasonal foods.  Communities are becoming stronger as their members support each other’s businesses. Groups of citizens are demanding to know what chemicals or genetically modified organisms are in the food products, so they can make their own choices. These citizens are demanding that the governing bodies remember they exist to serve the true human citizens, not the artificially-created, private corporate entities.  If enough citizens join these efforts…

How do these stories end?  That, dear reader, it up to you…

Author’s note:  My story is not intended to be a comment on the wild horses of today; I’m aware that their situation and management is a complex issue.  I just felt this allegory was useful in my attempt to portray the larger picture of what is happening to our food system.  I purposely did not include dates or names; the reader can easily find plenty of information with a little research.  The topic, players and details are less important than the perspective needed to see this pattern as it occurs over and over: the attempts by a greedy and powerful few to entrap, and thus control, the many.  This pattern is repeated in so many areas of life.  Constant vigilance, taking personal responsibility to educate oneself, and participating in civic affairs are the actions necessary for maintaining true democracy and choice.

With a bus stop a block away and several times and buses to choose from, I could no longer justify NOT riding the bus.  Granted, it meant that I would have to allow a little more time for getting to work (ahh, discipline).  I was in a bad habit of flying out the door with enough time to zoom downtown if the traffic lights were blessing me.  Yes, this would take some shifting.

But one day, I took that step; I rode the bus.

I really enjoy riding the bus!  Besides the benefit of experiencing a cross-section of humanity, I also get a chance to relax before and after work.  I read or look out the window or chat with people.  I think about my day, or look forward to spending time with my son or my horse.  All that in the span of about 10 or 15 minutes!  Who knew?

I still remember the Latino girl and her young son who were at the bus stop that first day.  She told me, yes it was where I could get Bus 5, and how it became Bus 6 at the downtown depot and continued to “southtown”, where she lived.  Meanwhile, Bus 6 would arrive at the depot (usually a few minutes late) and switch to Bus 5, which I could catch home at quarter past or quarter ‘til.  Other Buses stayed the same number and had longer routes.  Yes, Bus 7 also stopped at my neighborhood post.  I thanked her and waved goodbye as I disembarked at the depot!

Such a variety of people ride my buses!  Being a university town, there are students of many nationalities.  Sometimes I close my eyes and listen: Spanish, Asian, Middle Eastern, European.  It is like being on the Disneyland “Small World” ride for real!  One woman had the unique and beautiful eyes, and 3 lovely children who looked just like her; where was she from?   Young girls with veils get on the bus.  I smile at them: “as-salamu ‘alayukum” (peace be unto you), as an old Pakistani friend taught me to say.  Yes, may we all live in peace.

There are elderly people; the driver lowers the bus for them to step on and off.  Some have shopping bags.  Others just seem to ride for fun.  Occasionally, someone is in a wheel chair; the passengers fold up the side seat and help the person secure his wheels.  There are lots of young people.  Young boys (age 10?) going to the library by themselves.  There are mothers with children, and sometimes both parents.  Let’s sit here, Dad! – in the seats that face each other near the back.  Such an adventure to be had!  I find myself smiling.

Teens: all flavors from geek to Goth, singles and groups.  Fashion clothes, black tees and chains, or whatever’s clean even if it doesn’t match.  Some with ear buds in and world out.  One day I sat and chatted with a teen I recognized.  She is going to be senior, and is worried that she won’t have friends at school since some took the GED route and others don’t like each other.  Ah, yes, the days of identity chaos – be unique, but find a place to belong.  Actually, those seem to be the two bookends of my life even now!  But I worry less about it and choose to welcome all who would like to ‘belong’ in my world.

I find it fascinating to discover who people are beneath the surface.  Like my African-American friend whom I met that first day.  An older student in forestry management, but so much more, too.  She is working for women’s rights, an end to poverty, and respect for the land.  She is a voice of Divine Love for all people.

There are folks who are clearly around the poverty line and probably can’t afford a car.  I at least have a choice about riding the bus.  There are people who talk to themselves, or have some form of mental challenge.  Their lack of social restrictions is actually a bit refreshing – they are more like inquisitive children than stuffy adults!  There was the young man who bummed bus fare from me and asked if I knew any single girls.  Plenty ride the bus, so maybe he will find what he is looking for.  Most bus riders smile and make eye contact; they thank the driver as they leave the bus.  Have a good day! Others, for what ever reason, keep to themselves.  When I’m tired, I can understand their desire for solitude.

Sometimes I meet people as I walk the blocks to and from my downtown work.  Like the angry young hippie who fell into step with me and proceeded to tell me why he hated America, how his girl left him and broke his heart, how people didn’t understand him and sometimes spit on him, how they were kinder to his kitten (that rode harnessed on his backpack in front of his guitar) than to him, that he didn’t do drugs and knew lots about rocks and gems and spiritual stuff, and so on… for several blocks.  Even if I could have thought of some good advice, I wouldn’t have been able to interject it into his tirade.  So I just listened.  Finally, nearing the bus depot, I simply asked him his name.  He stopped, a bit stunned, and then shook my hand as he introduced himself as Nate.  Nice to meet you, I’m Becky.  I don’t think he knew how to respond to someone who treated him with respect, because after we chatted a few more seconds, he turned and headed back up the street.  I have thought of the kid many times.  He was just passing through town; I wish him well as he finds his way through life.

I walk those blocks at various hours, when the town is sleepy and when the streets are flowing with impatient cars.  I, too, used to zip along, eyes front to avoid rear-ending someone.  As I walk, I randomly choose my path, gazing in the windows of shops and restaurants I have frequented, and those I haven’t.  Few have a name recognized across the country; most are family-owned businesses.  Some are new and some have stood the test of time and generations.  As everywhere, the economy has been challenging, to say the least.  A few businesses have faltered and quietly passed away.  Others are kept afloat by the age-old principles of loyalty and community.  They are friends and family, we greet each other by name.   All understand the interdependence of our lives.

I have always admired trees, but hadn’t noticed just how many grow in town.  They are everywhere!  I heard the city even employs an urban forester to look after them. From the back seats of the bus, I am eye level with their curving branches.  When it is hot, I walk along under their shade.  I look up through the canopy (and hope I don’t trip on the sidewalk).  I stop to feel the texture of their bark.  Some I recognize from long-ago Botany class.  Instead of a forest floor, they are surrounded by concrete or asphalt.  Yet they grow, sometimes pushing the man-made ground out the way with their mighty roots.  They have observed decades of transition.  A few old ones probably carry the memories of Native Americans who lived in this area, before settlers arrived in 1845 and changed everything.

I have been surprised by the fact that I almost always leave the house with time to spare.  One day I was even ready fifteen minutes early, so I caught a different bus.  This gave me time to browse through the gathering of artists displaying their amazing creations on the courthouse lawn.  I purchased a magical little print from an artist friend there, and every day I delight in its colorful strokes of sun, moon, earth and sea.  Have I missed other treasures in my fast-paced life?  Hmmm.

Though most of the time the buses run true to the clock on the nearby courthouse tower, there are exceptions.  I call them lessons in patience and flexibility.  When I drive, I get irked if I have to sit through two rounds of the traffic light.  But the other day, when the Bus 5 mysteriously never appeared, I shrugged my shoulders, dug out my book and prepared to wait another half hour.  Meanwhile, Bus 4 appeared, running 15 minutes late.  I hadn’t taken it before as the nearest stop is about a 7 block hike from my house.  Hmmm, take a sure thing or gamble on Bus 5?  I hopped on Bus 4.  Be flexible!  Besides, what are a few more blocks of walking?  My sister lives on a ranch; her motto is, why walk when you can ride a horse.  Well, yes, but my horse doesn’t live in town with me!  And the extra walking, from bus to work and back, has paid dividends: my clothes fit looser.

I look forward to more days spent floating along in the “aquarium on wheels”, a microcosm of the larger sea of humanity.  Riding the bus reminds me to not only tolerate differences, but to celebrate them.  That diversity brings a richness to life.  That people are vastly more complex than the simple categories my rapidly assessing mind files them into.  That strangers can sometimes be kinder than friends or family.  I see bits of myself in all of my traveling companions and I smile with understanding.  I feel part of a community and it feels good.

Hair – in the “correct” place – is valued; otherwise, it is cut, waxed or shaved from existence.  We have hair products to clean and condition, color, curl, straighten, add or reduce volume or frizziness.

We diet and exercise our way into the “correct” figure shape.  Cellulite, especially if visible, is a four-letter word!   On the other end, there is too skinny or too flat.   With enough money, you can “buy” your perfect body from the plastic surgery store.

We can pamper ourselves or pay someone to pamper us.  Facials, manicures, pedicures, hair care, massages, saunas, oils, hot rocks, tanning, waxing, and even mud baths.

Then we have the adornments, also known as clothes, shoes, accessories, jewelry, tattoos and piercings.  Value equivalent to price.  Price equivalent to worth as a human being.  Or so we are taught.  It’s all available, whether you want to blend in or own a one-of-a-kind.  What amount of our energy and time is traded off to afford our must-have styles?

There is nothing inherently wrong with any of this!  Taking care of our bodies is important.  And designing, producing, selling and buying all these body-related products and services provides an outlet for creativity, discovery, and commerce.

Yet, isn’t it interesting that we don’t extend these ideals of care to the earth?

The beautiful face in the mirror is more important to us than the view out our windows.  We like our nails and lawns manicured, but disregard the environmental damage done in producing these displays.  The natural flora of a place is not as exciting as the exotic, just as natural beauty is shunned for artificial.  Wild and scenic is valued in body art, but trivialized in the countryside.

We liberally apply sunscreen to our bodies, but ignore the thinning ozone layer.  We brush dandruff off our shoulders, while we litter our roadsides.  We are far less horrified by the cellulite mountains of garbage we pile on the planet than by our own.  We hydrate with specialty bottled waters as we dehydrate our lakes and aquifers.

We soften our skin with lotion and harden the land with pavement.  Our personal baldness is far more a concern than our rapidly thinning forests.  Our antioxidant preparations often contribute to the environmental toxification we are using them to protect ourselves against.  We tolerate relentless conformity of our food crops, but fight for the right of individual self expression.

We would never exfoliate to the point of scraping away the dermal layer, yet we have nearly done this to our topsoil layer.  Consider the horrendous scars and voids left by strip mining; we would absolutely hide such if on our own bodies.  We worry more about keeping our arteries unclogged than we do our rivers.  We deodorize and purify the air inside our houses, while oblivious to the noxious fumes polluting the air outside our houses.

Maybe the greatest paradox of all: we do everything we can to extend the length of our lives, while doing nothing to make sure we have a healthy planet on which to live those extra years.

Isn’t it time we started thinking beyond our own bodies?  Do our bodies really have a physical boundary anyway?  Are we not part and parcel of all that is around us?  Part of the whole system we call life on earth?  What if we expanded our thinking to this Whole Body?

In many ways, community and family have been replaced by the individual.  “Every man/woman for him/herself!”  Somewhere along the line, “he would give you the coat off his back” became “he will take the coat off your back if you let him”.  Never satisfied, we justify “more is better, it’s mine, and I earned it or at least figured out a way to take it from you”.  I find it interesting that, in a nation where we profess to be serious about our spirituality, and most religions and spiritual paths emphasize treating others at least as well as you treat yourself, we have become so possessive, greedy and competitive.  Do we even read our spiritual guidebooks?

It is said “we create what we defend against”.  In defending against scarcity, we have indeed created a sense of scarcity in our minds.  And in the current economy, apparently.  Hence, the lack of sharing and the unwillingness to support others to thrive along with your own efforts to thrive.  We politely ignore appeals to give voluntarily of our time, talent and money.  We adamantly oppose any formal legislation that would require us to do so involuntarily.   What is the answer then?

Yes, it is important to take care of myself.  I am responsible for my life.  But I don’t think that means “look out for number one” only.  Far more can be accomplished when we move from an independent to an interdependent mind set.  Collaboration and cooperation allow for great results, and, I say, more fun and enjoyment.  Creating an economy that meets the needs of all, including animals and the planet, is not beyond the capacity of our collective intellects.  We just have to be committed to doing so.

It is time to say goodbye to the “great depression” of our hearts and minds.  It is time to recognize that it is not things, and the acquiring of more of those things, that will bring us true joy.  It is through loving ourselves and others, and accessing the abundance within us, that we will finally feel satisfied.  I extend an invitation to you: join me in ushering in a new era, one of Great Generosity; of Great Enjoyment; and of Great Contentment.

Two other movies have caught my attention lately.  One is “UP”, the marvelous animated story of finding adventure in life, even if it isn’t how you planned it.  If you’ve seen this Disney/Pixar movie, you know about the dog collars that translate dog speak into human languages!  (“Squirrel!”)

The other movie is “Avatar” (20^th Century Fox).  I won’t even try to explain how the human-like Na’vi beings connect to the minds of various animal creations, such as the direhorses, but the resulting ability to share thoughts is way, way cool!  The movie is awesome for other reasons, too, so watch it when you get a chance.

Mythology has many examples of direct communication between humans and animals, and even some beings that were a physical combination.  Most of us are familiar with the image of the centaur: human upper torso with the body of a horse.  The human in this image is still the thinking entity.  Fewer are familiar with the mare-headed human-torso goddess form of Demeter.  Here, the horse represents the wisdom of the natural world; what a novel thought that humankind would not only partner with nature, but would even consider letting nature take the lead.  Linda Kohanov tells the story of Demeter in her Way of the Horse book and card set; Kim McElroy created a beautiful rendition of this mystical being for the card.  Demeter gave birth to twins, one of which – Aerion – was a horse that had the gift of human language.

Ah, don’t all of us wish our horses could talk that easily to us!  As David Walser says of Frederic Pignon and Magali Delgado, in their book Gallop to Freedom, “Roles are reversed: the horse whispers in their ears. He becomes ‘the Whisperer’.”  Frederic, Magali, and so many others of us are committed to listening to the horses we love, in hopes of elevating our level of understanding.

I have met some talented animal communicators, and I believe they have innate gifts.  I have taken classes to learn how to chat with the animals, but still feel rather inept.  Like with any other skill – keep practicing, I guess.  What I do know is that a deep love and respect for the animal is fundamental to the ability of any person to communicate with an animal.  We must believe the animal is a sentient being in its own right.  We must feel that we are all connected in some manner, all parts of the same whole.

As much as it drove us all nuts, I have to admit that he could transform these castoffs into amazing and functional items, thus granting new life, while confirming the old adage, “a penny saved…”.

Many cars today have heating and cooling vents right near each passenger.  Dad’s solution for heating the covered bed of our GMC pickup was to make a tiny wood stove (yes, out of scraps…) with a chimney poking out of the back corner of the metal shell.  I’m sure people wondered about the smoke trail as we tootled down the highway.  But I have to say, we did stay warm!

It was the mid 70’s when we moved to the ranchette.  Translated, ‘ranchette’ means can’t make any money, but get to live with our horses.  Since there was no house yet, we camped out in a trailer and tents – Mom, Dad, we five kids, several dogs, and occasional relatives and friends.  Our solar shower consisted of a black 55 gallon drum, heated by sun and wood fire, with a hose feeding cold water into it, and another hose taking the heated water to the extra-large outhouse built over the septic tank.  It worked very well, though you didn’t want to be the first or the last shower-taker.  We all learned to take quick showers!  Having a well for a water source made us conscious of our water use and we always conserved.

By winter we got to move into a 30’ by 50’ cinderblock house, set into the hillside at the back.  Yes, all 7 of us.  The doors and windows were from my high school that had been demolished.  The interior walls were old curtains from a church.  Thankfully, the shower stall moved indoors!  Pot-bellied stove for heat, with electric backup.  No TV, which wasn’t appreciated at the time.  Now I realize that forced us to play games, read, create and actually talk to and laugh with each other.

We gradually harvested logs from the surrounding forest (careful selective cutting), which we skinned and let cure in the sun.  Dad designed a jig to trim two sides of the logs flat and one to scoop out the ends where the logs overlapped at the corners.  Slowly but surely, a log wall grew on top of the cinderblocks.  Passive solar wasn’t talked about much in those days (and nobody had solar panels), but my father knew enough to have lots of south-facing windows, including on the roof.

It has taken me five decades to wake up to the fact that he had a great deal of talent and ingenuity.  Though Dad has passed on, my mother and one sibling (with her husband and twins) still live in the house.  I have lived in a variety of houses, but realize I am happiest in small, simple spaces.  I conserve water and heat, buy mostly second-hand clothes, recycle everything possible, reuse plastic and cloth bags – all ways of living I learned from Dad and Mom.  Yes, I guess they did know a thing or two!

The connection to sustainability?  I feel sustainability is less of a moral issue – doing good to planet and people – and more of an intelligence issue.  Living interdependently with nature and each other is the smart thing to do.  It works and it works well.  Nature, if you look closely, is more about cooperation than competition.  I am certain that we have the innate abilities it will take to design systems for living which are more in line with nature.  Many innovators are already on this path.  Others are leading the dialogues needed for creating respectful social systems that support our global community.  Still others are questioning traditional economic practices, especially those which do not take the cost of natural resources into account.

If each of us called forth even a fraction of our creative potential that lies ready, waiting to be summoned…  Let’s astound the future generations!