Many of
us may have heard the word "bioregion" but
probably have only a vague notion of what it actually
means.
A bioregion,
obviously, has something to do with "place"
and with the living matter that inhabits such a
place.
But just how much
"place" does a bioregion encompass? What
distinguishes the life forms that range its
boundaries?
A bioregion can
be as large as you like. But it's probably best to
start with our homes.
We know a region
by its distinctive characteristics. In the U.S., we
identify these characteristics more often by the
names of roads, addresses, shopping malls and maybe
even its weather patterns than by natural and living
forms.
I must confess my
own ignorance of native species of trees and shrubs,
for example, which I see every day, even in my own
back yard.
I couldn't tell
you, really, what are the drainage patterns of nearby
streams and rivers, how much they've been altered by
human intervention, or whether the water is potable.
I have little
knowledge of the soil beneath my feet, other than
that it's sandy, or what its potential for growing
food is. I haven't given much thought to it. I
haven't had any need. I buy everything I need at the
grocery store.
So what does it
matter whether I'm familiar with my own surroundings
and its potential for sustaining life forms, many of
which could be used to meet my needs for food,
clothing and shelter?
It matters a lot.
I've begun to
consider in earnest the questions that bring closer
to home the fact that I can do more to sustain
myself, lessening my dependence on outside sources,
and lessening also the impact of my actions on the
environment.
The world
situation demands it. Everywhere I go, people
complain how impossible life is getting - its
personal and environmental degradations and
devastations, its hostilities and violence, its
quickening and maddening pace.
No one seems to
know what to do about it. We wag our heads in
frustration and hope that somebody will come up with
a solution.
The solution, I believe, is as close as the soil
beneath our feet. As Bill Mollison, advocate for
sustainable agriculture, argues: "The problem is
the solution."
One way to begin
thinking about how to turn things around is to take a
closer look at where we live, to consider the
elements that make up our bioregion.
I like to start
with what is familiar and expand from there.
Recently, while
browsing the Internet, I stumbled across a list of
questions which, honestly, I had great difficulty
answering. The questions are designed to get us
thinking about the area in which we live.
Questions like:
How much renewable energy is produced and used in
your region? How much of the food consumed by people
within your region is produced there?
The questions,
adapted from Bill Devall's Simple in Means, Rich in
Ends, are basic. You may think of other, more
relevant questions. It's important in any event to
begin the process, to locate ourselves in an
identifiable bioregion that we can call home and to
which we must give our utmost care.
An awareness of
the resources and uniqueness of where we live can
prod us to assume more responsibility for the
treasures at our fingertips.
The following
questions, then, are offered as an exercise in
self-awareness. Some questions can be answered easily
while others may require a lifetime of intimate
experience and mature understanding of your place.
This is not a
test to see how good a bioregionalist you are; no
marks are awarded. Rather the aim is to stimulate
your interest in the place where you live, to help
you understand how you relate to it now, and to
suggest ways in which you may wish to develop that
relationship.
THE
QUESTIONS
What are the
native plants of your region?
What species have
become extinct due to human interventions?
What native
plants have edible parts at what seasons of the year?
What is the most
endearing feature of the landscape for you? What do
you fear the most in this region? Where are the
headwaters of the river upon which you live?
How much has the
drainage pattern of streams and rivers been altered
by human action? Are there any ancient woods in your
region, or other areas of semi-natural vegetation
such as marsh or flower-rich meadow? How often do you
visit them?
What wild animals
do you regularly see and recognize?
What is the
history of human modification of the landscape in
your region?
Do you know any
old people who can tell you of changes to the rivers,
hills and woods, or about the old crafts and skills
of dwelling in the place?
What was the
landscape and way of life like in your region a
thousand years ago, or two thousand?
What is the
night-time like in your region? Can you see the stars
on a clear night? How much time do you spend
outdoors? Have you visited all the toxic waste dumps
in your region? Can you name all the chemical
compounds which have been deposited in the dumps? Do
you know who owns the major parcels of land in your
region?
How much fossil
fuel is used in your region? Do you know where it
comes from, how it is transported and where it is
processed?
How much
renewable energy is produced and used in your region?
How much of the
food consumed by people within your region is
produced there?
How much is
imported from elsewhere in the U.S., and how much
from overseas?
How many organic
farms or market gardens are there in the region?
Climb the highest
hill in your region. What do you find there?
Go for a walk in
your neighborhood on the stormiest night of the year.
Feel the currents of the wind, rain or snow. At what
point in the walk do you feel danger, fear? Can you
become part of the storm without suffering
discomfort? Do you enjoy the storm or hate it?
These
questions are adapted from a passage in Simple in
Means, Rich in Ends, Bill Devall, Green Print, 1990.
Stacey Warde
