California Wilderness: Meditations on Nature

Greetings from Domeland!

The second leg of this tribe's trip has placed us in the southern Sierras, in an old living space of the indigenous people of the area--our base camp sports some grinding holes left in slabs of granite, and even some paintings!

This valley surrounding the Kern River gets its name from the gigantic chunks of granite exposed by the glacier that carved its way through the mountains here, millennia ago. What's more, the landscape experienced an extensive fire a couple decades ago, which left fields of dead trees, fallen and still standing, in its wake. Along with the colored willows flanking the river down its winding path, it all is a sight to see, to say the least.

It's a fit place to study nature philosophy, our main focus on this leg, which has paralleled a study of the Old People of the hunter-gatherer era. Their love for the natural world has slowly unfolded itself into my own perceptions; it's starting to feel less like a trip and more like an experience. The nature is encapsulating my days, rather than just being an aspect of them. Mornings consist of practicing my 60-day ritual (a course requirement) of meditation and/or Chi Gong, journal entries, and trying to squeeze out a nature-based poem--all while listening to the trickle of the river and feeling the rising sun warm my back after a cold, brisk night.

Tea has become ritual; it's nice watching the tribe members go about their morning businesses while waiting for the water to boil, an event which usually calls people to the "living room" of the base camp. Soon after breakfast, morning class is held, in which the assigned readings are discussed after a quick Yoga session. At around noon, the day is ours until the evening.

We're free to explore the area, hang out in camp, take a nap, bask in the sun, stare at a tree--basically whatever floats our boat, provided we read the material of the day in time for evening class, which is held after dinner, cooked by the two chefs-of-the-day. Despite only knowing the tribe for less than a month, I can safely say that I feel part of a close-knit family. That's hard enough in the front country, and yet it all seems beautifully simple out here, together and compassionate.

Time with ourselves has been beautiful. I feel refreshed as a whole; our 60-day practices are designed so that we may develop a self-enriching ritual, finally, now that we're out of the stresses and demands of modern society. My focus on poetry and meditative practice is a result of my desperate need to release erroneous tension, and boy is it working! Little did I expect that every day is a meditation of its own. The readings--among them Muir, Emerson, Thoreau, and Whitman--are unbelievably relevant and relatable to my experience out here, as well as my life as a whole.

After all, one of our goals here is to experience what the aboriginal people did, being immersed in nature with a small community to depend on and love. It's slowly all making sense. If you'll excuse me, I think I feel like taking a dip in the river. 

-Buckminster Barrett

Welcome to the Sierra Institute!

A note from Sierra Institute Director and Instructor, Walker Abel:

I recently returned from instructing "California Wilderness: Nature Philosophy, Religion, Ecopsychology," a nine-week series of backpacking excursions into Death Valley, the southern Sierra, the Lost Coast, and the Yolla Bolly Mountains. Teaching this program after more than a year's absence from field instruction renewed my great appreciation for the remarkable education that Sierra Institute offers.

I participated in a Sierra Institute program as an undergraduate in the mid-1970s. At that time the Institute was still young, and offered only two programs a year, both in California (notably the Sierra). When I returned in 1988 with graduate degree in hand to join Sierra Institute's teaching staff, the school had grown to over 100 students a year, with programs in all parts of the country and several international locations. Sierra Institute continued to grow until its height in the mid-1990s, when enrollments neared 200 annually in up to 16 separate programs worldwide.

Since that peak, for reasons not entirely clear, enrollment has declined. Let me say that I do not think it particularly important that Sierra Institute be big rather than small, but as an ecopsychologist I find it interesting to consider that this trend of declining enrollment could in part reflect broad cultural and societal patterns. We might sum it up by saying that, as our culture increasingly distances itself from nature, there will be diminishing interest in programs that derive their very structure and content from nature.

The students in our recent spring program gave up, for the most part, cell phones and internet access. They went without hot showers, electric lights, soft beds, and current TV episodes. They passed up on many parties, concerts, and activities that their friends on campus undoubtedly enjoyed. Perhaps they even interrupted a more conservative 4-year college plan or degree requirements that technically should not include an off-campus quarter of this kind.

However, the spring students quickly discovered that Sierra Institute rests on the premise that often what we see as deprivations are actually gains. A recent body of research has demonstrated that distance and lack of direct contact with nature can contribute to physical and emotional problems in children and adults alike ("nature deficit disorder"). Sierra Institute is an antidote, but we might think of this as a peripheral gain.

The highest goal of Sierra Institute programs is to provide the best college learning experience for the specific academic topics covered by each program. For example, the California Wilderness program includes a course titled "American Nature Philosophers." Students follow the historical progression of environmental thought through Emerson, Thoreau, Whitman, and Muir up to current writers like Mary Oliver and Gary Snyder, including schools of thought such as deep ecology and ecofeminism. While it is certainly possible to study these authors in a campus classroom, I believe there is an important benefit to reading and discussing them in natural environments similar to those that originally inspired each author. It becomes much easier to understand and empathize with John Muir's passion for the Sierra Mountains while backpacking and camping in those very mountains.

The same is true for Sierra Institute’s science-oriented programs. In spring 2014 we will offer "Natural History Field Studies: the Ecosystems of California." This program will travel around the state to conduct hands-on field biology and botany studies while camping in various locations. There is no better way to engage with this type of academic material than to live in it. Thoreau once said of his natural history endeavors, "I wanted to get to know my neighbors". With Sierra Institute, the trees, animals, rivers and mountains become our neighbors, and we can learn about them in intimate and direct ways.

I will teach again this summer, and while I will at times miss my comfortable home, neighbors, and friends, I know there will be richer gains. I will enjoy the closeness that develops as a small group camps together for weeks. I will enjoy the deep intimacy with the wild earth that backpacking fosters. And I never tire of studying the ideas of inspirational authors, many of whom warn against our society's advancing disconnection from nature and who would be full proponents of Sierra Institute's motto: "Let Nature Be the Classroom."