EMAIL SIGN UP!
Most Popular This Week
Popular content
Today's Top News
I Swear I Found The Key to the Universe
I know I could be wrong. Believers do say that only God is infallible, and even He appears to have made quite a startling mess of His great Creation so far. And I'm surely as flawed and fallible, in my own humble and self-effacing way, as any of the rest of you post-lapsarian yahoos, so yes, I could definitely be wrong.
I suppose I could be wrong about this. All right, I know I could be wrong. Believers do say that only God is infallible, and even He appears to have made quite a startling mess of His great Creation so far. And I'm surely as flawed and fallible, in my own humble and self-effacing way, as any of the rest of you post-lapsarian yahoos, so yes, I could definitely be wrong.
That's the nature of grand, inclusive pronouncements, isn't it? They do never cover all the instances, all the variants, the multitude of individuals or circumstances. So maybe I'm wrong. But I'm going ahead with this line of thought because just now I find it satisfying to ride my own happy fantasy. But I do have an obligation to test it, to see how well it glides, how fairly it floats, what stresses it will carry and which questions or objections or exceptions could crack it. So I guess I need to order the whole business, put it out to an audience, and see if I'm alone in my own tidy recurved universe or if I've somehow (it does happen, sometimes) crafted or discovered some seed of common human feeling within the unlikely nebula of my own life and times.
Do you have any idea how I spend my weekends? Well, it's not all sex and drugs, let me tell you. (There is generally some rock and roll, but probably some Hank Williams and maybe a little bit of Blind Willie McTell, too. And just a couple weeks ago I even tried some Verdi, but I don't expect to make a regular thing of that . You'll definitely all want the new John Fogerty record, though.) Mostly, I dig. Or, having dug, move that dirt or rock to some other place. I've done this all my life. Lately I've accepted a trainee into the folly, in the hope that I shall not die the last person possessed of my peculiar predilection.
For thirty-two years I have used my free time to reconfigure the topography of parts of this neglected, overgrown small subsistence farm on a back road in Alna, Maine, enjoying the occasional greater or lesser interest and enthusiasm and involvement of my one wife and two children and a succession of dogs. The place still looks pretty rough. I can only say you should have seen what I started with.
I had a tractor once, a used twelve horsepower Kubota. Then we decided we required another baby and, forced to choose between tractor repairs and child care, I made the responsible decision. Since the early nineties, then, I have trod my self-designed rut using a shovel and a wheelbarrow. There are fewer hydraulic oil stains on the driveway, but also less live cartilage in my back. I hope my daughter appreciates my sacrifice.
On the nineteenth of September, the state of Maine unable to present sufficient objections to further delay the deal, we adopted our grandson, in some small part bringing his life into alignment with the great Grandpa Jones song, "I'm My Own Grandpa." Now he cannot call his caseworker when life goes against his wishes. Until the neighbors notice something awry he's ours to raise as we will. Grandma has her own twisted ways of messing up a boy, and I have mine. I have pressed him into service as toddler labor. Sixty days short of his third birthday he owns his own wheelbarrow, shovel and dirt rake. We work from the end of naptime until dark; a light rain does not deter us; transitioning out of diapers, we make sure to stop about hourly to try to pee. You can take a leak anywhere you like out here, and that's good for a boy-it gives him confidence, eases anxiety.
Now, you take a kid at ten or twelve and he or she likely will resist brute labor. And why not? The clever introverts will have discovered books. The rest will be lost to sports and video games. Ask your priest-he'll tell you you have to get 'em young for the dogma to take. So by the time he discovers that most young men detest digging and planting, grading and contouring, building walls, leveling roads, thinning woods and pruning trees, I hope my boy may have absorbed into his soul and sinews the joy and comfort and satisfaction and rightness of such work.
And here's my thesis, my first principle, my outrageous claim: that we are evolved to spend our weekends cleaning up the woodlot, smoothing the driveway, removing the great thickets of fir in favor of a nice parkland of oaks and maples. I'm not the only person who lives this way. I've run into a few others. The Internet, and the dissemination of my essays around the globe through its agency, have brought fellow travelers to me. I'll get messages from strangers who will tell me, yes, just so, I am they and they are me and we are all together.
I don't know why we are not in the majority. Blame advertising, mass marketing, cheap Chinese consumer products, Wal-Mart, post-war consumerism, television, comic books, spectator sports, organized religion, party politics, dope, steroids, public education, fluoride, fast food, flatulence, fornication, fairies and other wee folk or Dick Cheney. There's probably some truth in all of that. There has not been for a long time an age when human beings lived their days among the other life forms and took their spiritual sustenance from that contact; persons like me who could not live whole otherwise may always have been a minority.
But I said I'd state with great assurance some startling, arguably fallacious premise and hang a whole essay (if retroactively, given the thousand words I've already cast before you without getting to my point) on it, and I shall. So: We'd be a better, happier, more sane, humane world if there were more like me. And I'm doing what I can to help my grandson/son grow in that direction. And I'm asking you to at least give the idea some thought, and to contemplate a society of simple idiots who on Saturday or Sunday afternoons grub rocks out of the soil and pile them up according to some scheme, or who level this knoll that another might rise from the product of its reduction, only to plant some shrub on the mound or in the hollow and pronounce it good.
There are those jobs where my customer says, do this, install that. There are those where the message is, I have about this much to spend-surprise and delight me. I'll work overtime and eat some hours for the latter sort. To the extent that H. sapiens is different from the other mammals, our uniqueness is in our need to create, to invent, to build or think in new, not yet done ways. Most of us have little chance to do much more than assemble components or shuffle products in our jobs. Even the professions are slaved to dull production: architects design flat, crappy suburban schools far more often than great skyscrapers; engineers cipher out the radii of two-lane intersections and loads for bridges no more inspiring than a pair of girders and their abutments. Even teachers all too often only pass along the packaged prejudices that will pass the scrutiny of Texas textbook approval committees soaked in adoration of Biblical prophesy and the lost glories of the Confederacy, priming their students to not embarrass the district on this year's version of our semi-literate president's standardized test. More teachers than drywallers admit to being "burned out." Who has the duller job?
You can fly all over this country, spend your money, diminish the atmosphere by your coming and going, and gaze upon nature. There are trees and mountains, rivers, wonders of diverse sorts. I'd never argue against any national or state park or natural area or wilderness or reserve or preserve you might suggest. But you'll never know any parkland, never understand a collectively-owned mountain with the intimacy possible when you live on and work with a piece of ordinary land.
Much of what I have done here will revert to scrub and bramble and thicket after I die or become too weak or senile to continue to cut and carry, or am seized and sent away for harboring or displaying unsettling thoughts. I think as I work that my purpose is product -a grove of ginkgos, a curved retaining wall, a woods road extension. And so it is to the extent that these ends give me focus and order and the satisfaction of seeing my plans put to concreteness.
But more fundamentally and necessarily, and essential to my emotional good health, this art, like I think all acts of creation however rude or refined, is about process. Writing the song and singing it, painting the picture, chiseling the stone, stacking the bricks to a height and in a form nobody has yet quite done-in these and similar acts are we made whole for a time.
It's wonderful to work alone, with only your thoughts and the wind and the wet woods and rough rocks and no thought of clocks or schedules and no stopping until night or accumulated aches shut you down. It's better to have a friend. A year ago Karter reduced my productivity by about a third-he was only two. Now, almost three, he requires less intervention, contributes more. If this business holds together, his increasing capability should intersect my arc of declination in just a few years.
We'd used up all our gravel by quitting time Saturday. "What should we do about that?" I asked my young friend. "You should call Jon Bardo and tell him to bring us more gravel , Grandpa!" So I have. Times are rough, to be sure, and all may yet be lost. But we're good at this and we aren't hurting anybody and one of us is too young to know any better and the other, having learned some things about life and himself through many trials and much error, is younger than that now.
Go a mile up Rabbit Path Road (yes, far too cute an apellation for such a wreck of a route) off Route 218 and turn up the driveway on your right. Listen for the sound of scraping shovels. Or, send your queries to coop@tidewater.net if you like, but then you won't see the Asiatic maples beginning to turn, watch the new grass on the path over the hill sprout, or be able to chat with the grandson.
This piece originally appeared in The Wiscasset Newspaper, Wiscasset, Maine.
Comments
Note: Disqus 2012 is best viewed on an up to date browser. Click here for information. Instructions for how to sign up to comment can be viewed here. Our Comment Policy can be viewed here. Please follow the guidelines. Note to Readers: Spam Filter May Capture Legitimate Comments...
21 Comments so far
Show AllOh, this is wonderful! Thank you, Christopher Cooper! A few smiles certainly make us forget the hard times we face, at least briefly.
Actually the key is "we aren't hurting anybody." I can't garden, won't garden, can't see the trees for the forest. I like listening to the birds, but don't ask me what they are--they're birds. The physicians, once upon a time, got it right: "Do no harm." I have my puzzle books, logic puzzles especially, where I can use my homo sapien brain in an utterly useless and harmless way. If we could all live (garden, do puzzles, or so what if it's an MP3 player) and let live, we would, in fact, let live. And it would be good.
As always Chris makes my day. How nice to hear about positive things and physical labor, as compared to negative acts and applying a strange ideology to world affairs. I would take a rocky Maine utopia over the spoils of Washington any day. Thanks.
This article is astounding. It has prompted me to turn off this computer and go out and do yard work (when the rain lets up). The part that really struck home for me was Mr. Cooper getting his grandson to help him. Years ago when my daughter was less than a year old I read in some magazine that when small children want to "help" you do household tasks you should let them, even if they get in the way. That way, when they reach an age that they are actually able to help around the house, they will do so willingly. If you spend the first five years of a childs life excluding them from household activities, you should not be surprised if they will not help when they are able.
So what if the little folks splash water on the floor when doing the dishes.
Mr. Cooper, this is a lovely article. Someday, I too hope to live on and cultivate a large tract of land. There indeed, is something peaceful and satisfying about hard work on one's land. And it is even better when you have the help of your son or daughter. Mr. Cooper, thank you for this soothing article.
I am glad to see that you share my religion. The peace and pleasure of nature are a continual source of spiritual renewal.
When I lived in an apartment, I used to keep a quote on my refrigerator to the effect that all a person needs in life is a small house and a large garden. I finally have that small house, and the large garden is coming along gradually. I'm having fun.
Of the thousands of articles I have read over my 26 years here on earth, this is by far the greatest and most inspiring. I relate to these words more than any others I have read to date. Absolutely made my day and made me feel good about my plans for my work in the garden tomorrow......
Peace and Love To All.....
My earliest memories are of being somewhere between three and five, owning my own spade and trowel, and working alongside my grandfather in the garden. I also had a janitor's broom and I "helped" sweep the driveway and the garage.
I have been a gardener for years, of vegetables and ornamentals, but mostly flowers. Roses of all kinds, especially the English type and antiques. The fragrances are nothing short of divine. For the past five years it has been indoor orchids, and about a year ago I finally became proficient in this very different form of horticulture.
Whoever said we should all take time to stop and smell the roses knew what they were talking about. Plants are healing, especially those which you grow for yourself. The miracle of a seed that sprouts and eventually produces an apple or a peach or a cabbage is as beautiful as anything that exists. It changes before your very eyes, and blooms in exquisite beauty and smells sweet before it tantalizes your taste and then fills your belly.
Ah, the pleasure of the gift of Life we have in plants. It is wine and song for the soul.
Beautiful Chris Cooper :) Thank you mucho for sharing this with us :)
yes, a small house and a large garden Yummmmmmmmmmm :)
Reverence for the earth is rewarded with relaxation, revitalization, rejuvenation and maybe just a little bit of self satisfaction. working together with your grandson, priceless!
If the country is to be anything like what the author describes, Washington must be BULLDOZED to rubble first and foremost. The same thing for Corporate America. Only then are we even going to have a chance to make a good dream become reality and actually enjoy it. Oh, and sorry if I was interrupting anyone's dreaming !
Let me tell you something Chris, people who have the same preleliction for what you do have traditionally gotten shat upon throughout history. Actually, I think it is one reason the Palestinians are where they are now and we are on the brink of WWIII because of it.
CHRIS__I don`t believe it is God that has made a mess of his great creation, it is the people living in it that have nearly ruined it. Thankfully, there are some folks that are trying to maintain and repair their small part of it. However, it does not seem possible that with the great majority of our citizens living in large city`s and suburbs, that very many can garden and scrape driveways and all those fun pursuits in life. I realize where you are coming from as I have been fortunate to live on a farm all of my life and you could not drag me into a city to live. We cannot change the system, but we can make the best of what we have and enxcourage others to do the same.
"We'd be a better, happier, more sane, humane world if there were more like me."
Perhaps so, but not in respect of doing manual labour out in nature. Salt-of-the-earth farmers and peasants who don't spend their weekends reading books have always been keen members of the Klan, the Nazi Party, and avid attenders of witch and book burnings.
PAUL M___ I don`t know how many commercial farmers you actually know, but I have lived in a farming community all my life, and have never run into a Klanner or Nazi. As for witches the only thing you will find is water-witching, that is a scientific principle and is used for well drilling location. It works very good in difficult areas. I believe the peasants quit farming a good many years ago as they could not afford to buy $250,000 combines and tractors so they went to the city where they can read books. I don`t know where you got your attitude about farmers, but they are real people just like city folk, who are well informed and ambitious or they will not last. Is it possible you have read too many fiction books and not traveled out in the country to see what is out here? By the way, a little manual labor never hurt anyone that I know of, and it usually does the body and soul much good.
There has not been for a long time an age when human beings lived their days among the other life forms and took their spiritual sustenance from that contact; "persons like me who could not live whole otherwise" may always have been a minority.--Christopher Cooper
You have no idea how that rings true to me. You don't have any idea how many people CAN NOT understand that.
Due to some genetic disease that I have that was just diagnosed three years ago I was not able to purchase a small house with land. I am an apartment dweller. I would go absolutely insane if I didn't have a place I could go to do the things you speak of.
Key to the universe? In my mind, absolutely! It is the absolute only place to stay in sync with universal energy. I love to feel, hear and see the living breath of the Divine.
My experience with nature has taken me further than I could possibly expect. I was given a turtledove 14 years ago. I learned to get in touch with nature spirits through him. I call him my "Angel". Now I am able to interpret messages through nature. I didn't have a clue how important and majestic our animal brothers and sisters truly are. Talk about a feeling of absolute awe! I have no word of how blessed I feel of having been able to attain this knowledge. I also know there is so much more for me to learn.
I too have a grandson. He was born last November. As soon as I thought it was warm enough to go out he has been outside with his grandma every chance I get! Last summer I took him to area I nurture. I had to laugh watching him crawl and fall into a flower garden. The garden cradled him.
You reminded me of a memory of when I changed his diaper outside last summer. I will never forget the look on his face. LOL
He is now 11 months old. He is just starting to take steps. Today we went outside and I held a toy lawn mower while he walked. He was so proud and excited!
I don't know why but even before that child was born I felt a bond like I have to no other. He comes here with a smile and he leaves here with a smile. He just fills my heart with joy. I learn through him just as much as he learns through me. I too think we are going make a good team together. I am looking forward to each and every minute of it.
Its too bad more people don't recognize what is right in front of them. Before the tsunami hit all the wild animals were able to flee from danger. Since people have lost their connection to nature they perished. The knowledge was deliberately destroyed so that people could be controlled and manipulated and the earth destroyed for greed. I can't even read about the global warming articles......it just hurts too much.
A surprising thing I experienced about nature is that there is no way to compensate what one receives in return for what one gives, It doesn't make any sense why people neglect it.
I am with you Chris. I can't wait to get home and finish that porch, plant some cover crops in the garden for the winter, and do some grading on the our road before winter comes.
I do like my tractor though.
Anyone know where I can find more of Christopher Coopers writing?
Nature has always been and so long as She may live, always will be the GREAT HEALER. Thank you Chris for reminding people to get outside, get their hands dirty, breathe fresh air and connect to all that is living. Carlos Casteneda's teacher Don Juan chided him for his university-trained intellectualisms and said as a recipe for depression, "You dwell upon yourself too much. Seek and seek the marvels around you, and you will get tired of this dwelling."
I live near a state park with a huge spring, and almost every day I bike in, get into the chilly water (it clears the psyche of the inordinate psychic debris we all carry in these testing times) and often do Yoga. The only unfortunate thing are mosquitoes, ticks, stinging flies and gnats which often makes for rather syncipated yoga moves. As a friend of mine says about Florida, "Everything here wants to eat you." Not a likely complaint in the northern zones!
With respect to knowing the purpose of life, Christopher Cooper is the first kindred spirit I have found after 70 years of existence. For me, with four suburban acres to care for, it is no more profound than to keep the grass cut and the bushes trimmed back.
My four year old son and I will assemble a 12 volt tractor and trailer on Xmas morning, and then we will use it to more powerfully continue the husbanding of our Oregon acreage. There is no greater joy than having a child help you to grow up.