Interdependence

07 Jul, 2011

When I set off from LA one month and one long state ago, I thought I was setting off to engage in dialogue that entailed me telling others what I thought about Christianity and its relationship to ecology. I thought I was going to teach. What I’ve found is that I am on this journey to learn. As I learn, I am most grateful for those who have been willing to learn with me. Together, we’ve set aside our differences or stepped out of our comforting similarities and gained immensely from facing our ignorance.

On the 4th of July, I was surprised by this incredible group of people. I arrived in the town of Adin, CA in search of fireworks, parades, and watermelon. After learning that the first two traditions were not going to happen in that town that day, I indulged in the latter and set off to the park to read and play some guitar. After several hours of that, I was joined by some friendly folks setting up a picnic nearby. I thought it might be best to keep to myself, so I put on my headphones and put my head into my Kindle version of Moby Dick. Soon enough, this friendly crew had wrangled me in with food and conversation. They fed me and had me do the blessing and, I played some songs for them. Afterward, we engaged in a very thoughtful discussion on Carbon Sabbath and its related issues. Despite any differences between us, I am certain that we all felt a strong connection that day. Thanks again to everyone who was there in Adin!

In the next post, you'll hear how I was re-routed to the East because of heavy snowfall in the Lassen region. The first day of that itinerary, I met Dave Kroodsma and Dave Johnson in a deli and pies place in Chester. Both are climate experts. The former Dave cycled from SF to Patagonia and beyond on a climate education project (see: http://rideforclimate.com/). His insight and advice was invaluable. We discussed the value of our trips in our own development. Great stuff!

NOTE: I’m trying something new this week. I’m going to split up the blog a bit into two different posts that will be spaced out by a few days. That might just mean that you get this Special Edition preachy/touchy-feely blog on Interdependence, but maybe it will make for two thematic, more focused blogs. Next post in a few days: “Mountains.” Stay tuned!

As part of my changed itinerary, I ended up taking the Bizz Johnson Trail into Susanville. More on that soon. As I approached town, I met Dan-- the owner of Bicycle Bananas with shops in Susanville and Reno. (Viva la Electric Banana in Chico!) Dan was kind enough to ride with me back into town and even invited me to his church the next morning. Here he is as we hit downtown Susanville at day mile 83 for me.

I must admit some trepidation at approaching this community. However, I found the people incredibly kind and faithful. Thanks again to everyone I met in Susanville!

For the last few years, I have moved in social circles in which the words “evangelical” and “conservative” were anathemas. I developed sentiments for those words that wavered from condescension and disdain to fear and anger. This week, I had several experiences that dismantled those sentiments. I realized through these interactions how my prejudices separated me from others and hindered my ability to love my neighbors. By relegating those neighbors to categories, I prevented myself from knowing and loving the people I had categorized. This is a lesson I will surely learn over and over again. But I hear it’s clear ring in my ears now, and for that, I am grateful.

Special thanks to Lennie and Edna Eades from the Adin crew for hosting me!

The devise effects of categorization are apparent in our behavior as a nation. For many, “the environment” is a liberal issue. This cannot continue. We must shift the rhetoric that claims ownership of or repulsion by environmental concern. The future of our planet—of us and our children—depends on it. If we claim the love of neighbors, we must set aside our political agendas and categories.

This is the view from what was Tule Lake Internment Camp in Newell, CA.

I passed through a place on Tuesday that is a reminder of the dangers of blind categorization: Tule Lake Internment Camp. On that ground, the War Relocation Authority set up the largest and most brutal of 10 facilities across the US in which Japanese Americans were held in confinement without trial of any sort. In solidarity with those who suffered the atrocities of internment, I slept out on the land where the camp once was. The night was plagued with mosquitoes and heat, but I safely left my guerrilla campsite at dawn.

This shot is a store clerk's son flying a kite for the first time. I endured the heat of the day on a lawn in front of this market. On my second trip inside for water and cool drinks, I asked about the internment camp, which I thought must have been miles up the road. Turns out the store was the officer's quarters. The camp was just up the road, and I'd been there for hours. Now, it's primarily a trailer park community.

While individuality and personal freedom are important, it is also crucial that we acknowledge our interdependence. None of us exists in isolation on this planet. Everything we do is dependent upon others. In urban life, everything we use, consume, sell, or exchange is based on the behavior of others. Even if you live in total isolation, you are dependent upon others for food—whether those are human “others” or plant and animal life. Living on this planet requires interdependence. Our actions necessarily affect our neighbors. By getting to know my neighbors and the land in which we all live, I am learning a love that transcends independence.

There are many fine spices of people that flavor this blog with their presence. Some folks are religious professionals. Some are spiritual-but-not-religious. Some are born-again Christians. Some are atheists. Some are wealthy. Some are not. Whoever you are or however you categorize yourself, I thank you for being you. I am happy to know you and/or to share this experience with you.

 

Until we meet again

Less dependent upon categories

To love one another

More deeply than we thought possible.