11-10-24
Dr. Jonathan Lundgren
I was recently at a regenerative agriculture meeting at the farm of one of the leaders on planetary health. Around 300 changemakers from all over the planet had convened to present and contribute to this crisis.
As the conference began, I sat in the audience amongst immaculate potted trees and tablecloths, and I felt…small.
My presentations aren’t slick and professional. Hell, most of my wardrobe comes from Goodwill. There were hundreds of millions of dollars in that room and people that knew how to get things done. They knew what to say and how to say it.
Nor am I as articulate as the scientists that were presenting on the models of carbon cycling, and our projects don’t have the sophisticated apps and gadgets. They had secured more than $20 million to do something meaningful.
Our farm doesn’t look so polished. There are very few things in my life that the chickens haven’t pooped on (how on earth did they crap on that doorknob?!?). And mud. And the baby pigs don’t stay in, and there are old piles of hay everywhere. Most of the year, the hive barn where we store out supplies looks like a tornado hit it. My gosh, the horse barns at the farm I visited were prettier than my house.
When I explained this all to Christina, she replied “You’re a lot of things. Small is not one of them”
Over the course of the meeting, I started to notice some things.
There were farmers at the meeting, and they weren’t talking to the well-funded, institutional scientists. I had been to a number of their farms, or I had met them at grower meetings and they wanted to catch up with me. And I was happy to see them too.
And the farm where the meeting was at was beautiful, but my sheep come to our bedroom window when they break fence. Every time. And I know every single one of the trees that were planted on our farm. Each of them has heard me singing. And I know where the elderberries and plums grow. And the prairie has healed me so many times. I wondered if such a glossy farm can say those things?
And then I met the world-authority scientists at the meeting. They were friendly, but they made it clear that I wasn’t one of them. And to be honest, I didn’t really want to be one of them. For all of the carbon that is being measured across the country right now, almost no one is measuring the life associated with that carbon. Or how that carbon affects the water cycle, or the farmer’s well-being. They are only capturing the thinnest slice of the system.
Much of the $3.5 billion of Climate Smart money is missing the most important conclusion that 1000 Farms Initiative has uncovered: regenerative agriculture is a celebration of life. Grow life on farms, and the carbon takes care of itself. Grow life on farms, and so many other problems our food system, society, and planet are facing, all take care of themselves.
I really wish there was a superhero that will save us. A champion that will present themselves to clean up this horrendous mess. I want to know that it will all be okay. But as I have travelled the country and the world, I now know that portrayed heroes rarely measure up to our expectations of them.
In the end, we are left with just you and me. Just normal people. And we are small and fleeting. But we are connected to the problems at hand, and we choose to do things that are bigger than we are because it is right and needed.
So I am just me, “…and it’ll do fine.
It’s beautiful, and I think it’s what I want to be.” (Kermit the Frog, 1970)
