"A Fist in the Eye of God"

One of the essays in Barbara Kingsolver's book is titled "A Fist in the Eye of God" - an interesting title for an essay on genetically modified crops. Some years ago a women's group that I belong to had a study group on such issues as bioengineering and genetically modified foods and the (not so) brave new world of the by-products of this rapidly expanding industry. I wish that I had read this essay by Barbara Kingsolver then - I would have understood the key issue better.

The problem in a nutshell with these new crops is that they "don't play by the rules." And what are these "rules"? They are the rules of natural selection that have been going on for millions of years. You can call that Darwin's theory or you can call that "God's plan" if you wish. But when a crop is grown - for example, corn - that is resistant to various diseases it soon spreads its pollen to native crops, which now become contaminated and weakened. One large company sells seeds for a crop that grows abundantly but that produces no viable seeds, meaning, of course, that farmers must buy more seeds the next year. Don't think this industry isn't driven by profit. Interestingly I just read an Associated Press news article dated today, June 29th - Monsanto's third quarter profit jumped seven-fold! Monsanto is the biggie in this business.

Kingsolver is quick to point out that science is science and what it can do is make discoveries, provide knowledge. How the knowledge of science is used becomes a matter of ethics, and is one of the concerns of religion in a broad sense. As a scientist, a biologist, Kingsolver is fully committed to natural selection. In some American schools Darwin's theory of evolution and natural selection is still being taught as "one theory" as if there were many of equal weight to choose from. This is providing a disservice to students who should be taught not less, but more, real science.

And yet, she says, we must tread lightly when it comes to modifying seeds. It is wise to treat nature with "the reverence humankind has traditionally summoned for entering places of worship. a temple, a mosque or a cathedral."

I'm enjoying reading a balanced, thoughtful, but passionate writer.

What's a Little Rain?

Today I participated in a Golf Fore the Cure event organized by the Ladies Division of my home golf club Ken-Wo in Nova Scotia. The proceeds from our particular charity event will go to the Cancer Patient Navigation Program. This wonderful program assists people who might otherwise be lost and/or confused in accessing programs and assistance that might be available to help them cope with their illness.

Unfortunately, the actual game, which was to be a two-lady scramble was first delayed, and later cancelled because of heavy rain. However, the afternoon passed quickly indoors with hastily organized activities including a putting contest and a karaoke for would-be entertainers. There were many draws for door prizes and a fun auction. The event concluded with a delicious meal and I don't think anyone went home unhappy with the day. In fact, there was a wonderfully warm feeling of friendship, engendered by the afternoon of meeting one another off the golf course, and of course of having participated in a worthy cause.

What's that saying about inconviences being opportunities?

A Haunting Story

The first essay in Barbara Kingsolver's book that I'm reading is titled "Small Wonder" and it recounts a haunting little true incident that happened some years ago in Lorena Provence in Northern Iran. A little boy, a toddler of 16 months, wandered off from his nomadic tribe and was found three days later in a cave being nursed by a she-bear. Kingsolver says we can hear this story and think it preposterous and beyond believing or we can see it as a little miracle, a "small wonder," or maybe a parable on mothering instincts. We can imagine a baby crying, and a lactating mother bear who has perhaps just lost her own cub. If we add to that the knowledge that we mammals share almost all of the same DNA code it is not so hard to understand.

Or we can see it as evidence of God if we so choose. Kingsolver writes, "God is frightful, God is great, you pick. I choose this: God is in the details, the completely unnecessary miracles sometimes tossed up by the stars to guide us."

For an abridged version of the essay by Kingsolver see the Orion reprint.

Grist for the Mill

I've started two books, two very different books, one a novel, one a collection of essays. The novel is The Age of Longing by Richard B. Wright, the Canadian author whose 2005 novel Adultery was the subject of an animated discussion in my book club this past year. Interestingly the main character in this earlier (1995) novel is also a book editor. The other book I am reading off and on was published in 2002 and is a collection of personal essays by American biologist-turned-writer Barbara Kingsolver. I've previously read two of Kingsolver's novels, The Poisonwood Bible and Prodigal Summer, both strong books that left me with a lasting impression. Her essay collection takes its title Small Wonder from the first of many pieces written over several years in the reflective non-fiction style I find so compelling.
Grist for the blog mill!

The Pleasure of Their Company

I recall once reading an essay by Loren Eisely in which he said "I know the kind of watch the birds keep on us." He went on to say how aware they are of our movements, our comings and goings. A few years ago we hung some bird feeders on our deck and started attracting some wildbirds to our yard. Anyone who has these regular visitors will soon find out that they do, indeed, keep a careful watch on us humans!

When I put the first feeder up nothing happened for a few days; then one afternoon I came home and noticed two American goldfinches happily feeding. They stayed there for half an hour and I very much enjoyed watching them from my kitchen window as I made supper. This was the beginning of what I call "the regulars" - about ten goldfinches visit daily and occasionaly we have purple finches and siskins. A group of chipping sparrows were regulars for several weeks one spring and several song sparrows come quite often. I always love a visit from the same two or three mourning doves with their soft coos and beautiful soft colouring. Five rather racous bluejays have now become rather demanding when "their" personal daily treat is not readily available. They make a rather odd call and jump around almost questioningly looking and sounding very much as if they are saying "where is it? where is it?" Lately, a couple of grackles have been coming to the jays' feeder; the other morning an adult with two little ones appeared and the adult appeared to be giving instructions as to how to access this delicious meal. When I have suet out in the fall and winter woodpeckers and chickadees are often visitors and small groups of juncos are quite common. Last summer I added a hummingbird feeder and it was an instant hit, although I understand hummers are territorial and I've never seen more than one or two at the feeder.

Watching my regulars is a small thing maybe, but it has added so much enjoyment to my day. They are amazing little creatures and provide so much pleasurable company. It's common for us now to say things like "the finches were here" or "I saw the sparrows this morning." And they certainly do keep a watch on us, as much as we keep a watch on them!

Telling It Like It Is

Don't you just love the words of some of those country songs? When I'm driving around in my car I often have the radio on to our local station which plays country music all day and sometimes I laugh out loud at some of the expressions or I think "well, that's rather meaningful or well-said." Country music: lots of everyday angst and heartache, lots of griping, but gratitude and celebratory moments are recorded too.

Some of the songs are quite sexist, but funny too. What about the overworked gal who sings "my husband and I, we need a wife, someone whose sole ambition in life is to do laundry"? A recent song has a guy crooning (quite unabashedly) that all he wants is "you and me and the lights down low, with nothin' on but the radio." Just for sheer rudeness, the country line "here's a quarter, tell someone who cares," strikes me as a response I'd like to make sometime to someone who is bending my ear boringly! But for a real "telling it like it is" line nothing would beat "my give a damm's busted!" I haven't had an occasion to use that one yet............. but I'm waitin'!!!

Runaway Good

I've just finished reading The Kite Runner and it did live up to all I've heard about it being a good book. Last night I was reading it in public and someone noticed it and remarked that she, too, had read it and thought it was just "phenomenal." I don't know if I would call it "phenomenal" but it was a very emotionally engaging book - a story of relationships, of guilt and redemption, loss and hope, as well as a portrait of a people and a culture in the throes of change.

The story, written in the first person, begins with ten year old Amir growing up in Afghanistan before the communist invasion of the 1970's, moves to his life in California, followed by a return to Afghanistan at the age of 38 during the Taliban regime. The story seems almost autobiographical and this made me wonder how much was based on the author's own life.

As a matter of fact the story does roughly follow the author Khalid Hosseini's life. He was born in Afghanistan to a well educated family, father a diplomat, mother a language teacher. They emigrated to America when he was a boy just at the beginning of the Russian invasion, and he did return to Afghanistan at the age of 38 just as Amir does in the story. Amir becomes a writer; Hosseini is a medical doctor, an internist, but obviously a writer as well. In an interesting interview Hosseini describes how "life imitates art." Amazingly, he found that when he revisited Afghanistan after writing the story he found places from his childhood that he didn't know he remembered, descriptions that he had put in the book that were surprisingly accurate.

A point of interest - Hosseini is probably the only author of Afghan descent writing a book in English. The story's themes are, however, universal in any language and I think that's what makes this book "runaway good."

The Power of Fiction

I find that reading a novel takes me a long time. This is because of connotation - evocative words and phrases that resonate deeply or descriptive writing that brings to mind my own experiences or memories. For example, a reference to a childhood game may set me to thinking about playing that game myself; a description of a lake in a misty early morning may evoke a memory of a fishing-camping trip.

I just read such a line in the book I am reading: in The Kite Runner the main character Amir says "the first time I saw the Pacific Ocean I almost cried." The Pacific to Amir was as vast and blue as he had seen it in movies watched as a child in dusty Afghanistan. I immediately began thinking: the first time I saw the Rocky Mountains I almost cried and likewise, the first time I saw the prairie I almost cried and the first time I stood on a glacier I almost cried.

I think it is a common emotional reaction for many people. We are stunned by the vastness - in awe at the size, distance, height, depth, breadth or flatness of the scene before us. We can never be truly prepared for the beauty by photos or movies or written descriptions. Or, perhaps, we are misled by other who look at the ocean and see only water or look at the mountains and see only rocks! Before I saw the prairies I was told I would see "miles and miles of nothing but nothing" and before I saw the mountains I was told that some people found mountains "forbidding" and that they gave them a sense of being closed in.

Putting it in Perspective

This morning at the golf course my partner and I were joined by two gentlemen in an early morning "shotgun start." A shotgun start means that groups of four may be assigned to begin some or all of the 18 holes at the same time. The time was 7:30am, the course was wet after two days of downpours, power carts were not allowed, and many holes were empty. We four hitched up together.

A Scotch mist began to turn into a steady drizzle and missed shots became the order of the day. I was feeling a little frustrated with the game. One of the gentlemen told a little story that put everything into perspective. He recounted one time playing with a group when one of the players became very angry and disgusted with himself for missing his three-foot birdie putt. One of the group looked up at a nearby hospital and said, "why worry about missing a putt? There are maybe 300 people your age up there who would give anything to be outside here right now having a chance to try to make a three foot birdie putt!"

Suddenly the day seemed brighter. The light mist felt rather pleasant, the air was warm, the company was congenial, and we were able to walk, talk and laugh together. The chance - the possibility - was there that we would make a great shot, do something that would make us want to come back. Sure enough, on that hole one of the group sank a 40 foot putt and immediately afterwards I sunk a 15 footer!

Two Trips - Inspiration for Painting?

I haven't written anything for a few days. I feel as if I'm neglecting my blog! In the past week I've been on a couple of trips - a long drive to my sister's home on New Brunswick's north shore and a day trip this past week to a very special area near where I live. Each trip, in its own way, was a rejuvenating change of scene.

First, the weekend: My sister and her husband treated us royally last weekend and it was great to spend some time reminiscing with family. The view across the Resticouche-Bay de Chaleur is magnificent and we were able to get a shore walk in. It's lobster season on the north shore and my brother-in-law laid out a lobster repast second to none. We browsed around the neighbouring town on Saturday and headed back home Sunday stopping for awhile to visit my brother in Miramichi. It was great - "a good time not a long time"!

My second excursion of the past week was with my sketching group. One of the members of our small group of 5 or 6 is working on a summer project for her master's thesis (biology) and she invited us to come sketch at the site she is exploring. The site is a large tract of land on the "South Mountain" above the town of Wolfville. Wolfville and the Nova Scotia Nature Trust are jointly sponsoring a preservation project of an old growth Acadian forest. We enjoyed our "walk in the woods" and it was especially interesting to have a knowledgeable guide with us, especially one who can say "listen, there's an ovenbird" or "that's a black throated green" (warbler). We also identified red and sugar maples, noted the differences between red and white spruce, and passed through stands of beech and yellow birch. But most amazing were the 400-plus year old Eastern hemlocks, truly magnificent trees standing on the slopes of a ravine with a bubbling mountain stream running through it. In the undergrowth we found a patch of lady's slippers in one spot. Lovely violets near some bright green moss-covered rocks underneath a little waterfall would surely make a wonderful painting! We even did a little sketching and found time for an excellent lunch together (being outside for a few hours does something to the appetite).

Now, if I'm not rejuvenated and inspired to start a painting I don't know when I will be!