The Harvest: A Reflection on Reciprocity
“We spill over into the world and the world spills over into us.”
One autumn morning, I was at the farmers’ market picking up my weekly groceries, as I’ve done for the last few years. The summer season had gone out in a blaze of glory and its softer, more stoic sister had begun to creep in. And as a reflection of that time of year, the produce had taken on such vibrant jewel tones, highlighting the richness of the harvest. I was wrapping up my purchase at the berry vendor when a woman approached expressing her deep displeasure with autumn to me and the berry women. She explained that she could deal with all other seasons, but the decline, that is a key feature of this time of year, often sends her into a slump. We acknowledged her feelings on the matter, but I follow up responding that “This time of year reminds us of what’s to come.” I went on to express that without autumn, we wouldn’t appreciate the beauty of spring or vibrant pulse of summer. This gave her pause. After a moment, she smiled and said, “I like that. I’m going to go write that down.” I am not silly enough to believe that me waxing poetic about the beauty of autumn would override this random woman’s feelings on the matter, but I do appreciate the connection and opportunity to exchange nuggets of perspectives.
At the initial time of this writing, Mabon, the autumnal equinox, had just passed and I’ve been thinking a lot about reciprocity. There was once a time when we respected and valued our relationship with the natural world and in turn, the land provided for us. We honored the lives of the plants, animals, fungi, and the like that sustain us, house us, and clothe our vulnerable forms. We once lived in a symbiotic relationship with our world, but that relationship has turned sour and we are reaping what we sowed.
As the natural disasters continue to upend our lives, we, as a society, must transform our relationship with the land again if we wish to survive. Whether one believes in climate change or not, there is no denying the unprecedented and tragic environmental events. And for the first time in my lifetime, I’m beginning to hear more and more about this concept of the “green economy” and renewable energy sources in the professional settings. I think often about how we would approach the ways in which we work if we carried with us this view of reciprocity instead of what will meet the bottom line? This is a thread through Robin Wall Kimmerman’s Braiding Sweetgrass, a nonfiction book focused on indigenous teachings from plants.
I am not delusional though. Our country does not yet have the wherewithal to overhaul our economic system, especially when the fight for more profit or “greedflation” is rampant. But, I believe that there must be a way to balance the desire for profit and productivity with the health of our planet and support for community. Corporations are the biggest culprits of the devastation of our home. I refuse to lay the blame solely at the feet of consumers, many of whom are trying to build lives with wages that have not kept up with the cost of living. But, I do believe that we, as a society, can begin to shift the ways in which we interact with our environment and take better care of one another.
I am far from immune to material desires, so please don’t think that I’m trying to put myself on any sort of high horse. Anyone who knows me, knows that I enjoy both books and legos immensely. But in this act to be more mindful, for me, it starts with acknowledging the lives that are given for the things that we have. By taking one additional step to acknowledge the flax that made my clothes before I put them on, the fish that lost its life to fill my belly, the wood that went into making my desk, I’m honoring the lives that were sacrificed to sustain my own. In turn, I vote with my dollar by purchasing more secondhand or sustainably made clothing, buying my produce and meat from local farmers who are using sustainable agricultural practices, and using my bike more to get around rather than my car. It does not change the entire system, but the more people who are intentional about their purchases, the bigger the waves that we can make.
I also will not sit here and pretend to be an economist or someone who understands the intricacies of the financial world, but I am a relatively smart individual who cares deeply about our planet. I know that I’m just yelling into the echo chamber at this point, but we’ve spent far too long existing in a society that values individualism over collective support and healing. How much richer would the world be if we reckoned with our tragic, violent history and moved forward under the premise that everyone should have access to what they need and are able to build the life that they desire? How much more productive would we be if people did not have to worry about food, fresh water, shelter, and clothing? Think of all the beauty and innovation would result if so many folks were not just focusing on how to survive.
