CIRCLING HOME 2008
An Online Journal
by Kurt Hoelting
Winter Solstice, 2007
Dear friends,
Welcome to my online journal for Circling Home. I officially begin this journey on the Winter Solstice December 21st. These are my opening reflections, which I will update regularly during the year. I am taking this travel sabbatical in 2008 as a personal response to the challenge of climate change. I will go car-free during the year, traveling primarily on foot, by bicycle and kayak on a pilgrimage into the heart of my own home region, staying within a 100-kilometer circle of my home on Whidbey Island until Winter Solstice in 2008. My essay Circling Home, which appeared in the Sept. / Oct. 2007 issue of Resurgence Magazine, tells more about the vision and motivation behind this experiment, so I won’t repeat that story here. To read the article, go to here<.
One friend described Circling Home as an attempt to chart a rite of passage between the world as it has been, and the world as it will be. This is a commission I can accept. In the coming year I will voluntarily embrace changes in life style that may well be on the horizon for most of us anyway. By stepping into these changes now, I hope to reclaim a sense of purpose that is lost when our actions fall out of alignment with our intentions, or when our deepest convictions are cut off from the way we actually live. I am weary of feeling powerless about this crisis. I am weary of feeling that I have no choice but to continue wounding the world by the way I move through it.
I think we live in mythic times. How else can one describe the planetary emergency of climate change that is now unleashing itself on every region of the globe, caused in large part by the excesses of our very success as a species. This is a crisis never before seen or even imagined, in which everything worthy of our love is literally on the line. Our culture, our freedoms, our families, our livelihoods, our posterity, and the very foundations of life on earth are all on the line now. With such immense stakes, even our most ordinary human choices take on a mythic significance. Every action counts. We can no longer rely on “experts” and politicians to solve this crisis for us. Each of us is being called to make fundamental changes, here and now, in the way we think, and more importantly, in the way we live.
It is the urgency of this need to enact personal change that lies at the center of my Circling Home experiment. But I do not embark on this pilgrimage out of guilt, fear, or despair. Quite the contrary. I see huge opportunities now to change and grow in directions that will benefit all of us. I enter this year as a celebration and deepening of my connection to my own home place, and to the local community in which I am privileged to live. I am animated by a hope not only that we are capable of making the necessary changes, but that we will ultimately be better off for having made them, that we will live richer and more satisfying lives as a result.
THE TRAVEL CONUNDRUM
It has been a full year now since I first conceived of Circling Home, in the wake of Al Gore’s documentary An Inconvenient Truth. It has taken all of this time for me to set the stage for such an ambitious life-style change, as I navigate my own complex web of work, family and personal obligations. Ironically, all three strands of that web are calling for increased travel, even as I’ve come to better understand how much our collective dependence on travel is accelerating the advent of climate change itself. I claim no moral high ground here. I travel a lot in my work, and I also understand the magnetic pull of far-away places that are increasingly available to us in this jet age. I have been a full participant. If we are lucky enough to have the means, it is pretty hard to resist this magic carpet. The call to hit the road is an ancient impulse that jet travel has merely put on steroids.
What is clear now is that there are dragons lurking under this mountain of mobility, and they are generating a lot of heat.
On the eve of my Al Gore-inspired travel fast – (I cannot tell a lie. You might as well know the truth.) - I squeezed in one last trip to visit my daughter Kristin, who is a Fulbright scholar living in Norway this year. I couldn’t quite stand the thought of not seeing her for an entire year.
It was an inspiring trip, even as I felt some ambivalence about this added indulgence. Our visit ended in Oslo just as Al Gore was arriving to receive his Nobel Peace Prize. Sharing the headlines with Gore on the European news channels that day was Australia’s surprise decision to ratify the Kyoto Protocol, leaving the United States as the only industrialized nation left in the world that has refused to take that step. That same newscast from my hotel in Oslo told me of devastating floods back in my home state of Washington, with speculation of links to global warming.
Norway gave unexpected new impetus to my Circling Home aspirations. Throughout my visit, the streets of Bergen and Oslo were remarkably car-free, even during rush hour. Bikes, buses and pedestrians filled the streets, where swarms of automobiles would have greeted me in any comparable city in America. Adding the true costs of gas consumption into its price at the pump has encouraged Norwegians to create a vibrant culture that is remarkably less dependent on cars than our own, even as they are one of the top oil producing countries in the world. Not content with small steps toward oil independence, Norway’s Prime Minister recently committed his country to becoming fully carbon neutral by 2050. The contrast to the United States could hardly be more striking. My Circling Home project began to look less daunting in the company of these robust Norwegians, who think nothing of plunging into the December cold and dark on their bicycles.
Flying home from Oslo the next day, musing about these contrasts, I glanced out my window and was knocked breathless by what I saw. While my fellow passengers sat transfixed by the twitching images on their personalized DVD screens, I was ambushed by one of the most beautiful spectacles I had ever seen. Below me, in real time, lay the deep cut fjords, peaks and glaciers of Greenland’s west coast, locked in December sea ice, and bathed in a soft winter light under a clear blue sky. So unprepared was I for the impact of this heart-rending beauty that my eyes filled with tears. I experienced a wave of grief in knowing that these very glaciers are among the first conspicuous victims of climate change, and that they are melting much faster than expected. The impact of their melting on rising sea levels, and on the ocean currents and salinity that drive the climate of the North Atlantic, is only beginning to be understood, and ranges from the calamitous to the catastrophic. I was left to contemplate the double binds we all face now as we try to comprehend the tide of danger that is rising all around us. Here I had flown half way around the world to visit the daughter I love, whose future is put at further risk by the very act of flying to see her. I was returning home to begin my travel fast amid a perfect storm of contradictions.
Vaclav Havel said, “Hope is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.” This sentiment seems to me a pretty good place to start my journey back toward home. There is so much to be done, and almost certainly dark days ahead. I have no illusions about that. I also have no idea whether my efforts at carbon-free living in the coming year will do any “good” when measured against the enormity of the challenges we face. I have no idea what I will learn on this “narrow path to the deep interior”, as Basho called his own travels on foot through the mountains of Japan several centuries ago. But I do know that my heart swells at the thought of entering this path. I continue to recognize a persistent voice beckoning me to begin. I know the biggest dragon of all may be my own restlessness of spirit. Taking on this restlessness is itself a mythic act of defiance. How can we hope to slay the dragon of climate change if we aren’t willing to contend with the forces of distraction and restlessness that drive us to look everywhere but in front of us for meaning in our lives.
To all of you who are reading this, and who wish to accompany me on this journey, may the coming year be a time of deep discovery and growth. May we learn from each other, take risks together on behalf of our wounded planet, hold out a hand to each other, and seek inspiration in small acts of restoration and love. May we take comfort, as always, in the return of the light.
Happy Winter Solstice!
It has been a full year now since I first conceived of Circling Home, in the wake of Al Gore’s documentary An Inconvenient Truth. It has taken all of this time for me to set the stage for such an ambitious life-style change, as I navigate my own complex web of work, family and personal obligations. Ironically, all three strands of that web are calling for increased travel, even as I’ve come to better understand how much our collective dependence on travel is accelerating the advent of climate change itself. I claim no moral high ground here. I travel a lot in my work, and I also understand the magnetic pull of far-away places that are increasingly available to us in this jet age. I have been a full participant. If we are lucky enough to have the means, it is pretty hard to resist this magic carpet. The call to hit the road is an ancient impulse that jet travel has merely put on steroids.
What is clear now is that there are dragons lurking under this mountain of mobility, and they are generating a lot of heat.
On the eve of my Al Gore-inspired travel fast – (I cannot tell a lie. You might as well know the truth.) - I squeezed in one last trip to visit my daughter Kristin, who is a Fulbright scholar living in Norway this year. I couldn’t quite stand the thought of not seeing her for an entire year.
It was an inspiring trip, even as I felt some ambivalence about this added indulgence. Our visit ended in Oslo just as Al Gore was arriving to receive his Nobel Peace Prize. Sharing the headlines with Gore on the European news channels that day was Australia’s surprise decision to ratify the Kyoto Protocol, leaving the United States as the only industrialized nation left in the world that has refused to take that step. That same newscast from my hotel in Oslo told me of devastating floods back in my home state of Washington, with speculation of links to global warming.
Norway gave unexpected new impetus to my Circling Home aspirations. Throughout my visit, the streets of Bergen and Oslo were remarkably car-free, even during rush hour. Bikes, buses and pedestrians filled the streets, where swarms of automobiles would have greeted me in any comparable city in America. Adding the true costs of gas consumption into its price at the pump has encouraged Norwegians to create a vibrant culture that is remarkably less dependent on cars than our own, even as they are one of the top oil producing countries in the world. Not content with small steps toward oil independence, Norway’s Prime Minister recently committed his country to becoming fully carbon neutral by 2050. The contrast to the United States could hardly be more striking. My Circling Home project began to look less daunting in the company of these robust Norwegians, who think nothing of plunging into the December cold and dark on their bicycles.
Flying home from Oslo the next day, musing about these contrasts, I glanced out my window and was knocked breathless by what I saw. While my fellow passengers sat transfixed by the twitching images on their personalized DVD screens, I was ambushed by one of the most beautiful spectacles I had ever seen. Below me, in real time, lay the deep cut fjords, peaks and glaciers of Greenland’s west coast, locked in December sea ice, and bathed in a soft winter light under a clear blue sky. So unprepared was I for the impact of this heart-rending beauty that my eyes filled with tears. I experienced a wave of grief in knowing that these very glaciers are among the first conspicuous victims of climate change, and that they are melting much faster than expected. The impact of their melting on rising sea levels, and on the ocean currents and salinity that drive the climate of the North Atlantic, is only beginning to be understood, and ranges from the calamitous to the catastrophic. I was left to contemplate the double binds we all face now as we try to comprehend the tide of danger that is rising all around us. Here I had flown half way around the world to visit the daughter I love, whose future is put at further risk by the very act of flying to see her. I was returning home to begin my travel fast amid a perfect storm of contradictions.
Vaclav Havel said, “Hope is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.” This sentiment seems to me a pretty good place to start my journey back toward home. There is so much to be done, and almost certainly dark days ahead. I have no illusions about that. I also have no idea whether my efforts at carbon-free living in the coming year will do any “good” when measured against the enormity of the challenges we face. I have no idea what I will learn on this “narrow path to the deep interior”, as Basho called his own travels on foot through the mountains of Japan several centuries ago. But I do know that my heart swells at the thought of entering this path. I continue to recognize a persistent voice beckoning me to begin. I know the biggest dragon of all may be my own restlessness of spirit. Taking on this restlessness is itself a mythic act of defiance. How can we hope to slay the dragon of climate change if we aren’t willing to contend with the forces of distraction and restlessness that drive us to look everywhere but in front of us for meaning in our lives.
To all of you who are reading this, and who wish to accompany me on this journey, may the coming year be a time of deep discovery and growth. May we learn from each other, take risks together on behalf of our wounded planet, hold out a hand to each other, and seek inspiration in small acts of restoration and love. May we take comfort, as always, in the return of the light.
Happy Winter Solstice!
Kurt
10 comments:
I have been learning about St. Francis lately, and just recently rented "Brother Sun, Sister Moon," Zeferelli's lush story of Francis's early years. In the eyes of almost everyone around him, he was simply nuts. What he was doing made no sense. And yet his willingness to say YES unreservedly to a deep inner calling is profoundly inspiring. And what a difference he made!
This act, Kurt, has about it that kind of heroism--an act that makes little sense viewed through small mind, but is powerfully right in light of these times. I admire you enormously for taking this action, not out of any conviction that it will or will not make a difference, but rather simply because this is what you are called to do. And in the end, it will matter everything. Thank you for doing this.
Bravo Kurt! May you help us all find a way to change...
And you'll have more time to help Kristin do her research on Lena and Ole jokes! ;-)
Kristin's reflections from attending the Nobel Peace Prize award ceremony in Oslo last week.
http://lenaandole.blogspot.com/2007/12/nobel-peace-prize.html
Kurt,
"Circling Home", what an outstandingly creative and enlightened thing to do. Hats off! I'm looking forward to following your adventure.
Happy Circling!
Fran
what a beautiful time of year to begin your journey! as many people hunker down and dream of warmer days, you will be celebrating through your exploration. your adventure is inspiring, and revolutionary--we all need to learn how to adapt to climate change through positive and even celebratory means, and you are helping to pave that way.
it is becoming more and more critical that we view our adaptations to environmental crises not as sacrifices but as opportunities. what a gift to be able to explore your home so closely that you will know it for the first time.
watch out for those menacing cars this year as you travel on bike and foot, and i am looking forward to hearing of your travels!!
Kurt, this from Joseph Campbell....
Nietzsche was the one who did the job for me. At a certain moment in his life, the idea came to him of what he called “the love of your fate” (Amor fati). Whatever your fate is, whatever the hell happens, you say, “This is what I need.” It may look like a wreck, but go at it as though it were an opportunity, a challenge. If you bring love to that moment—not discouragement—you will find the strength is there. Any disaster that you can survive is an improvement in your character, your stature, and your life. What a privilege! This is when the spontaneity of your own nature will have a chance to flow. Then, when looking back at your life, you will see that the moments which seemed to be great failures followed by wreckage were the incidents that shaped the life you have now. You’ll see that this is really true. Nothing can happen to you that is not positive. Even though it looks and feels at the moment like a negative crisis, it is not. The crisis throws you back, and when you are required to exhibit strength, it comes.
Hi,
Because I need to know, will the course be the outer circumference, a zig zag free flowing course from the center and then out or perhaps sideways, or preplanned?
Will your stay overnight be prearranged or by chance?
1789 a woman, Sarah Blackman, traveled by horse drawn wagon zig zag fashion throughout parts of our very rural county and recorded historical data about the residents and the places. It is a wonderful read and a piece of work which I have been challenged to repeat.
Compassion and adventure is a glorious combination. God Speed!
I will be reading your blog.
Sincerely,
foghornbarb@yahoo.com
Kurt,Thank you for this act of kindness. Genpo's tears ran into my pockets as you described the loss of glaciers on Greenland. I am inspired to face this challenge as best i might. gasho,Tom
Hi Kurt, On a dark and dank, foggy / chilly, deep and lovely solstice evening in my old neighborhood under the oak hickory and pine trees on Lookout Ridge in the low Ouachita Hills at the water gap where the old Arkansas river flows out onto the mid-south Delta, the vast Missouri, Mississippi, Ohio, Arkansas alluvium laid down, in part in the spring floods at the end of the melting of the last ice age, I am sitting at my computer right below my beautiful brocade framed Green Tara, ever with her foot off her moon disc coming to our aid... I have been reading your Circling Home statement and your first blog. Thank you. Keep on keeping on. May this year, birthing out of this long night, be for you, and for all of us, a turning towards love and reason, peace and earth healing.
Love and a bow to you, Pratt
"I know the biggest dragon of all may be my own restlessness of spirit. Taking on this restlessness is itself a mythic act of defiance. How can we hope to slay the dragon of climate change if we aren’t willing to contend with the forces of distraction and restlessness that drive us to look everywhere but in front of us for meaning in our lives."
Kurt, I admire how you are continuing to use careful and honest self-examination to plumb your own depths. And using your gift with words to share what you are learning inspires me to do the same. "Restlessness of spirit" is a dragon I too know well. Like Chuang Tzu's woodcarver, you are choosing to carve yourself by your rigorous choice to "guard your spirit... not expend it on trifles that are not to the point." In this case, your fasting from travel may well help carve not only a new path toward your own heart and home, but help create a path toward renewed live encounters with the precious yet threatened world beneath our feet.
I salute you as you commence this outer and inner journey. Thank you for taking me and all of us along with you via your good words and great spirit.
Walking in the spirit in nature must be an exhilarating compliment to your Buddhist practice. You exhibit a strong power of one that matches the intention of your mission. The compassion you show for veterans will bring you good fortune someday when you need it. May this be so.
I look forward to following your adventure.
Post a Comment