Fruitful Misconceptions: Stumbling into Permaculture


My few years in permaculture seem to have been spent going from one mistaken idea to another. I make a generalization, run with it for awhile, then begin to see its shortcomings. Hopefully the next generalization reflects a deeper understanding of the matter.

My father encouraged me in this course, as embarrassing or painful as it may be at times. "Learning things isn't hard," he told me. "What's hard is unlearning them." Don't sit and stew, but keep moving and hold one's preconceptions lightly.

In that spirit, here is a record of my encounter with permaculture.

Permaculture makes no sense

Several years ago a magazine with an odd cover caught my attention at the local organic food store. A roughly drawn spider hovered ominously over her web in the top right corner; in the center was what appeared to be a section of a topographic map,

An article inside had the title, "Pattern - Key to the Universe." What odd cult had I stumbled upon? Intrigued, I bought the magazine. But when I tried to read it at home, I could make absolutely no sense of it. Strange jargon, fierce arguments between factions, bucolic images of gardens and plants. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before.

I put the magazine aside and became involved in other things.

Years later I realize that this mysterious magazine was the July 1998 issue of Permaculture Activist. When I read the articles now, they make perfect sense; in fact this was a great issue! Several of the authors have since become my teachers.

Permaculture is a sect

The next time I crossed paths with permaculture, I had left my job and was investigating a career change. Permaculture seemed to occupy the same intellectual space as my interests: sustainability, gardening, and living in accordance with nature.

I was skeptical. Just another sect, I thought, with an outrageous guru and a Ponzi-type training scheme. Hundreds of dollars to learn the basics -- and what does it prepare you for? To become another permaculture teacher! Uh-huh, I'd heard this before.

I had been trained as a journalist and had come of age during the weirdness of the 60s and 70s, so I wasn't going to cut this odd little group any slack. I thought my suspicions justified as I read more articles and web postings. Quotes from Bill Mollison were trotted out just as those of Chairman Mao had been in the political 60s. Some of the voices were gentle and spiritual, while others seemed as arrogant and dogmatic as any Marxist-Leninist. The permaculture publications with their long, deeply felt articles reminded me of the underground newspapers of an earlier era. They did have a ragged power, I had to admit; nothing slick and superficial about them.

Coming from an engineering environment, I was critical of permaculture's lack of concern about efficiency, priorities and costs. "This is a young person's movement," I thought, "a reincarnation of the counter-culture."

Nevertheless, the philosophy fascinated me and I kept reading. I picked up the jargon: zones, Class 1 Errors, food forests. It was eerie how often permaculture resonated with the things I'd been doing and thinking for decades. I wrote a list of positive points about permaculture:

Whenever a class or talk on permaculture was given in the bio-region, I attended. I quickly learned that no one was getting rich from permaculture. Teaching permaculture appeared to be as lucrative as being a monk.

Finally, I took the plunge and took the December 2003 Permaculture Design Course (PDC) at Lost Valley, Oregon. There wasn't a hint of the dogmatism I feared; people had strong opinions, but they were thoughtful and balanced. I wrote:

"I feel alternately excited and wary. Isn't this the way people feel when they fall in love? You want to think that the beloved will solve all your problems... and as you grow older, you realize the danger of that feeling, so you draw back. But aren't both aspects true? You are in love, and you want to maintain your independence (and your sanity).

You are aware of the warts on your beloved, her bad moods, her difficult ways... and yet you love her still. "

Bill Mollison is permaculture's guru

A big puzzle about permaculture lies in its central figure, Bill Mollison. Permaculture is permeated by his ideas and aphorisms. His books are key texts for the serious student, and his videos bring in the public.

I couldn't figure him out. His autobiography, Travels in Dreams, dispelled any notion of his being a sanctimonious guru. In no way politically correct, he was like a Charles Bukowski of the environmental movement. Never boring, never predictable. I imagined that like many visionaries, he may not be an easy person to work with.

In September 2003 I had a chance to hear Bill talk for a day in Sebastopol in Northern California. At noon, I was about to leave, out of exasperation with the meandering remarks, and the gratuitous insults against vegetarians, New Agers, college students, etc. I felt like throwing something at him.

Fortunately I stayed for the afternoon portion of the talk, when Bill began talking about substantive issues. He is an inspiring speaker, both funny and moving. Many times I felt tears coming to my eyes. He gave me the feeling that what I did was important, that I could be his mate in the struggle for a just and environmentally sound world.

You've got to homestead

The homestead has a powerful emotional appeal. For most of my adult life, I'd been under the sway of this vision.

I had begun dreaming about homesteads in the early 80s while working the graveyard shift in a run-down hotel in Palo Alto, California. A copy of Wendell Berry's essays had fallen into my hands and I read them straight through, pausing only to talk to the homeless people who would come into the lobby to get junk food from the vending machines. Riding my bicycle home in the morning, I'd stop under some brush in a woody section of the Stanford campus, lie on my back and wish that I could live in nature as the farmers and homesteaders did. The only problem was that I had no money, no skills, no partner.

Soon afterward, I found myself in England with my wife-to-be, housesitting a small cottage on the Norfolk coast. I learned about a new scheme called WWOOFing and spent many days volunteering on organic farms in the region. To my delight, the farms lived up to my dreams. Cozy kitchens with wood-fueled Aga stoves, teakettles boiling and bread baking. It was the self-sufficient life so well described in the books of John Seymour and Gene Logsdon.

When we returned to California, the dream went on the back burner, since we had little money and no career. In the spirit of the times, I learned computers and gradually found jobs that paid well. The vision of a small homestead kept me going as I toiled in the corporate cubicles.

When I parted from my employer 20 years later, I thought, "Now I can fulfill the long deferred dream." This time I had some money, some skills, and a partner. Permaculture provided an intellectual framework for what I wanted to do. With theories and a mission, it matched my growing environmentalism. It seemed like homesteading in overdrive. Full steam ahead?

I dutifully read the permaculture books and began gardening in earnest in our community plots. Take it step-by-step, I told myself. I kept Bill Mollison's admonition in mind, "develop the nearest area first, get it under control, and then expand the edges."

But a funny thing happened: the more steps I took toward the homestead ideal, the farther away it receded. It would be tempting to blame land prices or my wife's lack of enthusiasm for the project. The truth was -- my wife was right.

At this stage of our lives, a big garden and assorted DIY projects were all we could handle. We were older and uneasy about new projects that would require unlimited energy. I'd seen in England how much work a homestead entailed and I had to admit that it wasn't for me. There were too many other things I wanted to do -- hike, study, be with my family. Then too I'd come to love where we lived. The hills, rivers and bay were beautiful and easily accessible. The cities offered cultural opportunities. Family and friends lived close by. The thought of uprooting ourselves, as we would have had to do, held no appeal. Slowly the long-held dream evaporated.

Real permaculture means self-sufficient rural holdings

Having distanced myself from homesteading, I began to look critically at permaculture's focus on developing rural properties. It seemed as if you couldn't begin to do permaculture without a quarter acre in the country.

It is true that small rural properties are ideal for demonstrating permaculture concepts and techniques. David Holmgren's well documented Hepburn Demonstration Gardens is a case in point. In contrast, it would be hard to explain zones or install swales in our condominium complex.

The problem is that a rural smallholding is unrealistic for most of us. To make homesteading successful requires a big commitment. Earning a living is difficult in the present economy with high prices for land and low prices for produce. Even long-time farmers are leaving the countryside in droves. And finally, the rural US can be a lonely place for urban people, especially after the 2004 elections. The rest of us should do anything we can to support the brave homesteaders trying to make a go of it.

I'm not arguing against homesteading, but against a fixation on it, as if it were the only way to practice permaculture. It's worth noting that Bill Mollison felt that permaculture ideas could work at "Any scale. .... from the tiny one room flat in Stockholm to the unthinkably large, a 4 million acre cattle station in Northern Territory." (interview by Scott Vlaun in "Seeds of Change," July 2001.)

In fact, he advocated the "Establishment of plant systems for our own use on the least amount of land we can use for our existence..." (Permaculture Design Manual, p.34). And rather than waiting for the ideal homestead with the Aga stove and dried herbs on the wall, he said to get started now: "Wherever we live, we should start to do something." (Introduction to Permaculture, p. 2)

The challenge for me was to see how much I could do where I was. Could I make up in intensity what I lacked in acreage?

I was inspired by the permaculturalists who lived in urban settings. Russ Grayson, the Australian permaculturalist and journalist, posted an essay "Towards an Urban Permaculture" on his website.

Also in Australia was self-described eco-hermit Margaret RainbowWeb, gardening her 150 square meter plot in Adelaide and creating her glorious website (http://www.users.on.net/~arachne/ ) with its profusion of permaculture essays, spirituality, good sense, how-to articles and memories from World War II England.

Other urban permaculturalists had equally imaginative solutions. Among the many: Robert Waldrop in Oklahoma City, the group Food Not Lawns in Eugene, Graham Burnett in England and Green Fairy Farm in Berkeley.

Lack of land seems to bring forth energy and creativity. Some things are harder to do in small spaces, but other things are easier. I've found that I'm never at a loss for interesting things to do. Why did I ever think I needed that quarter acre in the country?

Permaculture is raising food

Permaculture rightly emphasizes the raising of food. I was inspired to grow as much of our food as possible, almost as a moral imperative.

We had started gardening in a community garden several years previous, but now we acquired more beds and began planting year round. Permaculture encouraged us to go beyond seed packets and neat rows of annuals and to experiment with new crops and techniques. We planted more perennials and relied on heavy mulch rather than digging. It was a period of discovery and frustration, satisfaction and burnout. I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

We learned there is an immense difference between light gardening for the occasional tomato and intense gardening for a large fraction of your diet.

What do you do with all the fresh produce that now streams into the kitchen, in spurts of abundance? Crops need to be harvested and you have to do something with those shopping bags of lemon cucumbers, raspberries by the quart, and all the horseradish you'd ever want. We weren't used to eating this way! And neither are most Americans, judging by the complaints from CSA members that they are overwhelmed by the fruits and vegetables that keep showing up on their doorsteps.

At the simplest level, we had to rearrange our kitchen so that the knives and cutting board were handy for chopping produce. We learned to use vegetables before they became soggy and rotten, and if possible, to eat them the same day we picked them.

Preserving and processing food became a necessity, not a hobby. My wife taught me to can and make jams. The lemon cucumbers became pickles. We realized that soups and salads were wonderful ways to use up problem vegetables.

Each new herb or exotic vegetable became a research project, as we surfed the Web for more ways to cook collards or use lemon verbena.

I acquired a great respect for the skills of the traditional housewife.

But as fun as these new projects can be, it is a wrench to change from old habits. Others in the household may not share your enthusiasms and you encounter constant little frictions with mainstream society.

Food preparation is a deep issue that permaculture doesn't address adequately. I know of only two permaculture books that deal with it: Mollison's book on fermented foods and Robin Clayfield's "You Can Have Your Permaculture and Eat It Too."

Fortunately there is a wealth of information outside of permaculture on food preparation. In addition to the traditional approaches, there is the new emphasis on eating fresh local foods, for example in the Slow Food movement. Nutritionist Joan Dye Gussow goes deeply into this subject in her book, This Organic Life: Confessions of a Suburban Homesteader.

Permaculture is not just about raising food; it's also about making the best use of it. What good are organically grown vegetables if you don't eat them?

You've got to garden

Although I'm committed to gardening, I can understand why other people might not be. Gardening brings many rewards, but it does require continual effort. There are the frustrations that come with learning any new skill. Even people who'd love to garden may not have the time or access to land.

Unenthusiastic gardeners might do better to give up their plots and buy vegetables from local farmers at farmers markets or through CSAs.

As Mollison says: "We can also begin to take some part in food production. This doesn't mean that we all need to grow our own potatoes, but it may mean that we will buy them directly from a person who is already growing potatoes responsibly." (Introduction to Permaculture, p. 2)

Perhaps it makes sense to teach Food Systems rather than just gardening, as Russ Grayson advocates. By understanding the conventional food system and learning about alternatives, permaculture students could choose their food sources wisely.

You do permaculture with groups which are labeled "permaculture"

After attending a PDC, I wanted to get involved with permaculture groups so I could learn more and contribute in some way. I looked for groups in my area, but none seemed to be active.

I didn't want to drive for hours every time I attended a meeting or class, so I began considering local groups which might share the values or interests of permaculture.

Bonanza. As soon as I realized that a group didn't have to be labeled permaculture, I found dozens of opportunities.

Some groups are so close in spirit to permaculture that they might easily be seen as extensions of a PDC. For example, Green Teams meet regularly to discuss ways of reducing personal waste and consumption. Discussion courses on sustainable living, simplicity and deep ecology are based on anthologies published by the Northwest Earth Institute.

A new phenomenon is the emergence of interest groups preparing for Peak Oil and the end of cheap energy. Those groups under the umbrella of the Post Carbon Institute are especially interested in relocalization and other permaculture ideas.

Other groups focus on a special interest like native plants, organic gardening, solar energy or primitive technology. Still others, like watershed groups, have a bio-regional or environmental emphasis.

What is unique about permaculture is its comprehensive worldview and its theme of positive action. Because permaculturalists can see how things fit together, they are well suited to contribute to other groups and to benefit from them. For example, permaculturalists aren't content to grow pretty flowers. They want to know what other plants they grow well with and whether they can eat them. And they want to tell other people about it.

In fact, veteran permaculturalists seem to have long lists of interests and involvements. Perhaps networking with other groups should be recognized as a key permaculture skill.

Permaculture knowledge is labeled "permaculture"

There's only so far you can go by reading the usual permaculture publications. For more depth I found I had to go outside the permaculture world.

After all, permaculture concepts had to come from somewhere. Why not go to the sources? For example, one can study the science of ecology and the practices of traditional cultures. Ecologist H.T. Odum, whom David Holmgren admires, is especially worth reading.

For a complete permaculture curriculum, in which directions could one go? I've found several to be fruitful:

Real permaculturalists are PDC teachers, homesteaders or designers

If one wants to become further involved with permaculture, what options are there? The ones most discussed are PDC teacher, homesteader and designer. All of these are honorable professions. None of them appeals to me.

Could I suggest that these three are fixations? That in reality the choices are much greater and most people would be happier NOT to go into these fields full-time?

What they have in common is that they represent a break from the old -- a completely new start. Maybe we should remember Bill Mollison's admonition to start from we are. Given our talents, skills and background, how can we apply permaculture concepts where we are, rather than make a dramatic leap into a completely new field? As a machinist, marketeer or microbiologist, there's some way to leverage one's experience, though it may require a shift to a new job or related profession.

"We can take a permaculture approach to any (reasonable) job or profession," says David Holmgren, "but to jump to the conclusion that permaculture IS a job, career, or profession is false." ("Searching for Ways Forward," Permaculture Activist #39).

My bent is towards research and explaining things. Rather than do this for a computer company, as I had been doing, I have decided to do it for gardening and the sustainability movement.

There are so many things to be done, so many possibilities to explore. Making mistakes is not such a steep price to pay if we are moving forward.