Undergraduate Programs

Student Spotlight

Leslie Rodgers

Permaculture 2006: Working in Harmony with the Earth

I first heard of   I.U.’s permaculture class just a few days after the first class ended.  It sounded like something I’d be interested in, designing living systems that meet human needs while working in harmony with the earth instead of fighting against nature every step of the way.

 I once lived on a very tiny homestead, where we raised animals and grew and ‘put by’ much of our food, grew our own medicinal herbs, and made some truly splendid babies which we birthed without drugs and nursed on demand.  (and when I say we in that last instance I mean me).  To hear that there was a class where I could learn to do all those things in more earth-friendly, more efficient and easier way sounded exciting to me.  I’ve always been a sucker for the whole let’s-move-to-the-country fantasy where the weather is always perfect, the animals are tame and eager-to-please and the vegetables are always ripe for picking.  

I promptly made up my mind to sign up, but due to complications of real life it took me three years to actually have a summer free so I could get out to Lazy Black Bear and take the class.

There is no doubt it was well worth the wait.

The Lazy Black Bear is described by those who have lived there as magical.  It is owned by Linda Lee and Andy Mahler, and they themselves are the heart of the land which is located in the middle of a forest near Paoli, Indiana.   Because of their commitment to the forests and the earth herself, Linda and Andy have made their land into more than a home.  They have created a place that serves as a school of nature, and each summer they allow IU to hold the Permaculture class here.

About two dozen of us descended upon them this year.   Some of us were IU students, a few were not.  We ranged in age from 19 to sixty-something and in temperament from shy and quiet to uber-energetic.  Our group contained both men and women, straight and gay, some of us politically savvy and some not at all, some of us skilled in outdoor living and some not at all.  The one thing we all seemed to have in common was our instinctive fashion sense, which could best be described with the phrase, “I’m not taking anything to the woods I don’t want to ruin.”  We made a cheerful if somewhat motley crew.

Permaculture class is taught here by Peter Bane and Keith Johnson, who have been studying and teaching permaculture principles longer than some of us have been alive.  Their knowledge of the subject is stunning.  For two weeks they lived at the Lazy Black Bear with us, instructing us in all the technical aspects of permaculture design and guiding us in projects that teach principles and skills as they improve the land where we had come to learn.   Their patience with us, with the variableness of the weather, with living in primitive conditions, and with the time constraint of trying to teach a whole way of living in two short weeks was impressive. 

Our IU connection is David Haberman, whose love of the land is legendary here at the University.  It is also contagious.  Students who take David’s classes are given new eyes to see with, and come away from his classroom unable to ever again see the earth as just the thing that holds up their dorm building.  For David, for Andy and Linda, and for all those connected with the Lazy Black Bear, the earth is a living entity which we are but a small part of.  A small but responsible part.

It would take volumes to tell what I learned academically in the Permaculture class, and I won’t try to do that.  Take the class yourself.  Do the work yourself, have the experience yourself.  I would, however, like to mention some of the non-academic and unexpected things I learned, the things that really surprised me.

I learned that Bloomington is full of like-minded people.  Of the two dozen strangers in the class, most I had seen before.  Some I had seen in my Religious Studies classes or in the Art School here at IU.   Others I had seen around town in what you might call typically earth-loving places such as Bloomingfoods, the Farmers Market, or at thrift stores.  I had seen them at the library, or riding their bikes in town, or marching in peace rallies.   After years of being thought ‘really strange’ for caring about the planet we are a part of, it was exciting to live and work with people who also  care, and who care enough to give up part of their summer to learn a better way of living on the earth.

I learned that I like whole, real food.  I was raised on the wonderful convenience foods of the sixties and seventies, the era when cookbooks had recipes that said things like “open a can of…….add a package of……and a small jar of………”     My introduction to real fruits and vegetables came when I was a grown married woman with a back yard big enough to plant things.  My gardening was an offshoot of my fondness for houseplants, and for years I was much better at growing things than at knowing what to do with them.   Our cooks at the Lazy Black Bear were brilliant when it comes to the fine art of preparing healthful meals with real natural, home-grown food.  It warmed my heart to read the huge menu board in the dining hall each day, and to see that the salad greens or potatoes were grown next door at Anthony’s Sun Circle Farm, and to see the names of the neighborhood cows who sent us their milk.   It feels RIGHT to know where my food comes from, and to know it is nearby, that the tomatoes I am eating today were picked today, next door, fully ripe and luscious…not picked green 3,000 miles away and shipped cross country then treated with gas to artificially ‘ripen’ them to a tasteless red.

I learned that the whole fashion industry is just weird.  We all brought enough clothes to last two weeks, knowing we wouldn’t have laundry facilities.  We all then proceeded to wear the same two or three things over and over, because they were comfortable and practical.  We washed things by hand, when needed, in buckets we borrowed from Linda, and we hung them on the line to dry in the sun near the solar shower.  The guys wore slacks or shorts and t-shirts, we ladies wore the same or simple sundresses, skirts or sarongs.  We had no need for finely tailored clothes, for anything that required dry cleaning or pressing or careful treatment.  There was no none around to remind us that our skirt was too short or too long for the current trend, no one to care whether the color we had on was currently in style.  When we looked at each other we saw the person, the soul, not the costume.  Without the influence of the media or the fashion industry we dressed for comfort and were quite content.   When I got home I spent a long time just staring at my overfilled closet, wondering what on earth I could have been thinking when I bought all those clothes……wondering who did the labor to make the clothes, what their work situation was like, how much they got paid to make clothes for me that are far beyond my actual needs.  

I learned that I don’t need nearly as much stuff as I have.  For two weeks I lived in a tent with a few books, a sleeping bag, a few changes of simple clothes, and I was perfectly content.  Even with sunburn, even soaked in a sudden downpour, I was fine with things being just as they were.   Returning to my apartment here in town I felt nearly overwhelmed at the sheer number of objects I own.  Objects I know I could live happily without.  Objects I have to take care of, and rent space for and feel responsible for.  Sure, there are things I need for my life as a student here that I didn’t need for those two weeks…stuff like warm sweaters, more books, my computer….but a lot of what I own I have for other reasons.  There are things I have because someone gave them to me, things I have because I once thought they were cute, things I have because my parents and grandparents and great-grandparents died and left them here.    I’ve realized if I haven’t used something in the past year there’s a good chance I never will use it.  If I’m not using it, I have a choice to make.  Do I want to keep renting an apartment large enough to hold a lot of stuff I don’t use?  Or would I rather pass these things on so that someone else can get good use from them, and in exchange have more empty space, more breathing space, and more room for my spirit to grow?   I think I’d rather spend my life’s energy on people than on things.  I’ve been sorting and giving away for several weeks, and it feels really good to be paring my possessions down to a more manageable size. 

Then, I got to thinking that wars seem to usually be about things….about people wanting to have stuff they don’t grow or produce locally….about people wanting more power so they can get more stuff…..about people using their energy to try to control other people and take stuff from them…..

I don’t personally have the power to stop nations from doing this.  But I do have the power to examine my own life, to see where my small actions contribute to the bigger problem.

 I’ve learned I really love living in a city.   Before I came here to go to school I lived my life in the country or in small towns.   We have this sort of mythology in America about country living and how wonderful it is, and for some people that is no doubt true.  But I think at heart I’m a city girl.  When I lived in the country I had to get in the car and drive miles for anything….to see a movie, buy a ream of paper,  get a pair of work boots resoled….unless you know how to make everything yourself a life in the country involves an awful lot of trips to town.

Here in my favorite city I use my legs or my bike instead of a car as much as possible.  I no longer own a car, a choice I made last December, and it is amazing how much a person can do in Bloomington without one.  If I really needed one I could rent one, but aside from when I moved from South Walnut up to an apartment closer to campus I haven’t really needed to carry anything that required a car.   Most of the city is accessible by bus too, but I walk most of the time for the exercise.  If you’re not in a hurry anywhere is walking distance.  Walking has changed the way I see the city.  I feel a connection with the town I didn’t feel my first year here, when I was whizzing past things in my car.  As a car person I saw the city as a collection of destinations.  By walking and biking I’ve learned to see the ten thousand things between point A and point B.  It is a richer experience.

Lastly, I’ve learned that there is no perfect place.  My big bad master plan when I came to the university was to get a good education, get the perfect job, and settle down in the perfect home and live happily ever after.  In studying permaculture I’ve come to realize there is no perfect home.  There is no ideal.  What there is, is workability.  The new plan is to graduate, find worthwhile work to pursue, and settle down in a home near where I work.  Using the skills from permaculture class I know I’ll be able to retrofit the home to meet my needs in an earth-friendly way.  I won’t have to wait until I find perfection….I can create it myself, wherever my work takes me.