"Seeing" Nature

work in progress...

Prologue

Who doesn't love Thoreau? From our vantage point, 150 years deeper than he in the industrial landscape, the Transcendentalist poet appears peaceful and grounded by Nature. He was observant and respectful of "the wild," and when we compare his priorities to our own, Thoreau looks like a sage trying to steer Western society in the right direction. 

But from another perspective (and perspective is what this post is all about), Thoreau can appear naive and superficial. When you compare his experience in the American wild to that of the Native American, he comes off as a tourist and his writing seems romanticized. Why should we care about his perspective of Nature when an entire race of people lived closer to the subject and had infinitely more to say about it?  

In the following essay, I want to exploit the gap between these vantage points, and I'm going to quote from Luther Standing Bear, a Lakota chief of the late 19th century. He writes:

We did not think of the American landscape, with its tangled growth, as “wild.”  Only to the White Man was nature a “wilderness”.  To us, the Earth was tame, bountiful, and surrounded with the blessings of The Great Mystery.

----------

Before we go down this road though, we got to make sure you're properly insecure about the subject, Nature (or specifically: Relating to Nature.) Because, if Thoreau was a novice, you sure can't profess to be "in-tune with the wild." We're too disadvantaged now. The whole planet is now affected by Man. 

Plus, our minds are further from wild. We're now born to understand things in relation to thoughts rather than just relating to them directly. Our intellect has become our defense, our distancer from Nature, and the scientific gaze has become our cultural perspective. But this "studying approach" won't gain insight into the Native American perspective and unless we drop this viewpoint (which is all it is), we will only distance ourselves further.   

A wise man once said, "Understanding is the booby prize of life." In other words, there's real observation and participation that could otherwise be had. And if Standing Bear is to be read, we need to accept that we don't (and can't) contextualize Everything. We must accept there's mystery. He uses that word right there his quote, but all Native Americans spoke of Great Spirit and clearly their culture honored mystery. To ignore these words, or to erase them from the study of Nature, would be like studying a tree without acknowledging the ground the tree is attached to (which, BTW, is exactly how specialists are trained to see Everything.)       

So, achieving self-reflection or humility is going to be tall order for us, but it's worth the try. And although I'm in the same boat you are, totally ignorant about my relationship to Nature, I'm going to proceed using the metaphors I studied because that's what I'm familiar with...  

I come from an art background, and I believe that with this subject John Berger might serve us well. . Specifically, I'm going to build off his famous mid-century critique, Ways of Seeing. 

Now, for those who don't know his work, Berger reflects intensely on the art-audience's vantage-point. He points out how art-viewers are not "blank slates", and that they were never given the chance to see art cleanly. He notes how Modern people are born with cultural context that predetermines meaning for us. Our understanding is already formed and it's impossible to erase. For instance, our education and a never-ending bombardment of media-affirmations continue shape our perspective. We can't see without these contextualizations. 

And if we can't see Art for what it is, perhaps we can't see Nature for what it is either. In our minds we already "know" what we're seeing (though, obviously, we don't: History proves we're perpetually taking new information into account, and we have to adjust the "facts" we hold true.) The worst part about our this is, none of us are aware of it! We rationalize our convictions using the same cerebral tools that actually block us from seeing Nature in its' whole!

Well, as for Berger, his critique on art went over the heads of the general audience (his essay effectively changed nothing about the way we see art), but what a shame if this were to happen with Nature! The stakes are high. So, let's begin by looking at the Nature from scratch, without out pre-formed perspective. Let's start by looking at our looking...         

--------------------

Chapter 1.   Deconstructing What It Means "To See"

"To see," is to connect two entities: (1) There's someone doing the seeing, and (2) there's something being seen. 

The eyes are like ambassadors between these entities. They gaze externally, imprinting the world's perceptible properties on to the retina, and then connect internally to the brain via the optic nerve. This is the physical act of seeing that we're all taught, but the dual external/ internal function makes vision a far more profound of a subject.      

If it were just purely physical, seeing would the focus of the ophthalmologists and no one else. But there's another definition that launches deep into meta-physicals (beyond the physical) and this is how we usually use the word. Etymologically, and still in the dictionary, "seeing" is also defined as understanding what we see.  We combine the internal and external.  

Descartes ("I think, therefore I am), for example, thought that the eyes were the crossroads of the soul, like a highway on/off ramp in an ontological relationship between body and mind. Plato, too, emphasized the eye’s role in our relationship to "the Truth" (which, according to the Allegory of the Cave, lay somewhere out there for our discovery.) What we know to be true, according to the Greek, is made possible by where we stand and which direction we're looking. 

You may think these are ancient thoughts but, in actuality, they describe our everyday assumptions. They are still famous because these philosophers laid-down ideas that continue to dominate our notion of the human experience. For instance, when we say, "Do you see what I'm saying?", we're extending Plato's exact metaphor* of The Cave. 

And the reason I'm bringing it up is, the ambiguous relationship between our non-physical thoughts (including personal identity, what we think as "us" verses "other") and our physical senses (like eyesight), is a problem that continues to perplex as we view Nature and ourselves. We still have not discovered a better way of relating to the world other than "internal me" versus "everything outside of me" (although Eastern philosophy and religions offer alternatives.) 

To recap: Perspective influences what we think is real and not. Thoughts change as our vantage-point changes (which seems obvious to say, but for some reason we don't remember it -- or don't believe it -- when only our brain gets involved.) I, personally, believe we need to doubt all understanding (which is just a vantage-point) and keep our eyes open to new discoveries, new positions. And to accept strange statements like that, or anything said by Standing Bear, we will gain access to the bigger picture. 

---   

This is The End, for now. As I said, it's a work in progress and it's part of a book I'm working on. I'll finish it there. maybe

--------------------

*I can't resist reflecting on the word, Metaphor... 

You can see how meta-phor shares a prefix with meta-physics but don't be frightened by that, the definition of metaphysical isn't owned by the religious. Metaphysics is simply the pairing of meta ("behind" or "beyond") and physical. The Greeks coined the word to describe aspects of realities which were in the head and not found in the physical world. Psychology, for instance. Thoughts, feelings, and yes, spirituality are examples of meta-physical study.  

So that's a little on the meta part, but with Meta-phor the suffix is equally interesting. Phor comes from the ancient word bher, which means "to bear", as in a child.  Thus, a Meta-phor is properly defined as something that bears another thing's meaning -- pods to carry another thing forward. Words themselves are examples of metaphor since they bear the definition of a concept we wish to communicate (ipso facto, metaphor is a metaphor of itself!)   

In other words, we don't communicate in physical fact, we communicate in meta-phoric packages. We'd like to think things can be "perfectly clear" between two people but that's an impossible fantasy. Definitions are already subjectified in our heads, but they become further metaphorical as they're communicated and unpackaged by the second person. There is no such thing as understanding between two people, there is only "I, personally, made sense of the information and I think we're more or less on the same page now."   

The Art of Cidermaking: You Already Know It, You Just Don't Know It

[The following is an essay I wrote in conjunction with the discussion-panel of the Holistic Orchard Network website. Go there for further discussion and comments.]

 

Art can not be taught 

You heard right: Art can not be taught. At best, an art teacher can help the student learn how THEY make art, but if the student is not willing to look inside for the way (or if they are fixating on looking for answers) then forget it, Art isn't for them.

Yes, you can teach the formal aspects of art, but you can't teach the artmaking itself because Art is a relationship, not a product. The "product" manifests from the relationship. This is always the case. Art does not, and can not, manifest itself from the formal aspects alone. 

It's important to note: There's nothing elitist about Art because EVERYONE is an Artist! That's right, YOU are an Artist! Do you have a relationship to your family and friends? Then you are an artist -- you have developed a way of relating to them. Do you have a relationship to Earth and the environment? Then you are an artist -- you have developed a way of interacting with the planet. You already have lots of practice with being an artist and in the practice of painting, or the cultivating of apple trees, or cider making, it will all translate into one.  Learn to trust what you already know! 

So, let's be clear: Apple cultivation is a relationship, and so is cider making. RELATIONSHIPS.
If you can remember this then you can approach apple growing and cider making as any artist does (and how all people should.) You will be well positioned to digest the formal qualities as well, which are helpful tools. You will also be able to contextualize what the experts say (the "science of wine making") and know they are full of shit. There are no experts at life, no one lives more than you do, and that's what art is, life. Experience counts for something, just not much. 

---

OK, so you want little-old me to talk about the formal qualities of cider making? Fine, I can do that, as I have on past posts, but DON'T get lost in my knowledge. This is the trap people always fall it and I've seen it a million times. Words are not real, they are just capsels. My ideas can inspire but they can't be learned. Because ART CAN'T BE LEARNED! So this is rule number one: Don't let other people's ideas substitute for YOUR experience of life. You will figure it out. Trust that. You've been doing it all along. 

Rule number 2: Be weary of everyone who is not you! They are practicing their art on you and trying to convince themselves of their perspective. Fine, but don't trust their words. Retaliate with your life because that's the only thing real. Inspect other people's art and take only what is helpful to you.

I might say, for instance, "Dabinett is a good cider apple but it sucks in Northeast soils unless you amend the soils, graft on dwarf, spray and irrigate, etc." (in which case you're removing 90% of the good properties anyways.) 

Or, when I say, "What you really should grow is wild, assimilated trees because it's not the variety, it's how it's grown," keep in mind this is just what I say because it was true with my experience. I have a very different way of relating to the world than you. 

You TELL me how to grow a cider apple! Seriously, that's what Art is:  YOU tell me. 

This means we can all proceed and relax as equals. There are no experts, only more experienced artisans (and that counts for little.) More importantly, as equals, there's no hierarchy of information. It's what matters to YOU. Yes, I've had lots of experience making cider, growing trees, and with Art in general, but my stories and "wisdom" is offered only as a reference. It's your journey.  

Art is relative. It's ALL about relationships. Only you can live your life. So, what's it like? 

The 2021 Vintage

  Two things to know about the 2021 growing season:

(1) There was an unprecedented amount of rain in the Northeast last summer and the ground was extremely saturated throughout the fall (in fact, it’s still wet from all the rain!) This is problematic for the crop for several reasons: the water makes the apples heavier, the humidity promotes defoliating fungal diseases, but especially, and in combination with the above, the gray skies means less sunlight. As you know, wine fruit is best well ripened.

(2) 2021 was a “mast year” for fruit and nuts. Beyond the farm, every few years the trees in the forest conspire to seed heavily, which is a natural strategy, but when this happens the forest, and the farm trees in communication with the forest, tend to be shy baring the following year. Ipso Facto, we are looking at a very light harvest for 2022.  

  For us in the Northeast, the two factors yielded more juice than usual, but unlike sweet cider makers this is worrisome for the quality dry cider maker. Quantity is almost never a good thing. And, in fact, the sugars and acids were measurably more diluted for wine and cider fruit growers throughout the NE region (don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.) Yet despite all the signs of a bad vintage, to my surprise, in the actual barrels was a far better cider than what I expected. Come spring, what I thought would be a “D” vintage ended-up a “B-”. (Phew, as Wordle would say.)  

  If you care for my opinion, let me offer two reasons why I think our ciders triumphed despite some serious obstacles:  

(1) Vintners who utilize a massive diversity of fruit varieties (as opposed to “selected” varieties) are allowing nature the chance to make-up for the vocal shyness of a wet year. Isn't that common sense? If a boss relies on just one or two strongmen, and those strongmen call-in sick, only a workplace with a healthy, diverse support-staff can continue with the job at hand. Advantage: the wild.  

(2) I believe that the long-term “struggle” of wild trees creates a foundation for expression regardless of the ground saturation. Like a battery, if a tree thinks (they do think) and adjusts to its conditions, the tree will store that memory in its cells. Character is subsequently expressed even when the power-source (the sun) is off! And if I’m right about this, and I am, we have yet another instance in which wild apple trees are communicating to us modern agriculturists something: "This is how to cultivate wine fruit, stupid!" In other words, struggle and are character are closely related.     

But that’s me.