In Search of the Real Saint Patrick

Who was Saint Patrick?  Was he a real person?  Children are told  "Saint Patrick wore a green suit, talked to leprechans, and while trying to convert the pagans with a shamrock, he marched all the snakes out of Ireland."  Will the real Saint Patrick please stand up?



His real name was Maewyn Succat, born around 385 A.D., somewhere in Scotland, or possibly somewhere else, as there is conflicting historical data on his exact date and place of birth.   His baptismal name was Patricius. 



Around age 16, he was sold into slavery in Ireland and worked for the next 6 years as a shepherd.  Keep in mind that human slavery, as well as human sacrifice, was considered normal for those times.



After six years in slavery, he said that an angel came to him in a dream, prompting him to escape and seek out his homeland.  He actually walked about 200 miles to the coast, where his dream indicated a ship would also be waiting for him.  Imagine that!  He took off and walked about 200 miles because of a dream!  Amazing. Even more amazing was that he found the ship, and though he had to finagle his way aboard, he successfully escaped, and spent the next 20 years of his life as a monk in Marmoutier Abbey. There he once again reported receiving a celestial visitation, calling him to return to the land where he’d been enslaved, though now with a mission as a priest and converter.



Patricius was called to Rome in 432, where Pope Celestine bequeathed the honour of Bishop upon him before he left on his mission.



Patricius returned to Ireland not alone, but with 24 supporters and followers.  They arrived in Ireland in the winter of 432.  In the spring, Patricius decided to confront the high King of Tara, the most powerful King in Ireland. Patricius believed that if he had the King's support, he would be free to take his Christian message to the people of Ireland.



Patricius and his followers were invited to Tara by the King of Laoghaire. It was there that he was said to have plucked a shamrock from the ground to explain to the Druids and the King the concept of the Trinity - The Father, The Son, and the Holy Ghost.   



Of course, triads and trinities were a common concept among the Druids.  In fact, one could argue that the trinity (a term not found in the Bible) was a concept given to Christianity by the Druids, rather than the other way around.  The Trinity is a universal principle, though does not seem to have been a part of the earliest Judeo-Christian teachings.  Regardless,  King Laoghaire was impressed with Patricius.  He chose to accept Christianity, and gave Patricius the “green light” to spread Christianity throughout Ireland.



When Patricius returned to Ireland, he treated the "pagans" with the respect implicit in his dream. Part of this respect was attempting to communicate with the Druids on their terms.  He also blended the Christian cross with the circle to create what is now known as the Celtic cross.  He used bonfires to celebrate Easter, a Holy Day that Christianity supplanted with the already-existing spring equinox commemoration. In fact, he incorporated many of the existing symbols and beliefs into his Christian teachings.



Patricius spent his last 30 years in Ireland, baptizing the non-Christian Irish, ordaining priests, and founding churches and monasteries. His persuasive powers must have been astounding, since Ireland fully converted to Christianity within 200 years and was the only country in Europe to Christianize peacefully. There was none of the “convert or die” hard-sell that was so common elsewhere.  Patricius’ work ended slavery, human sacrifice, and most intertribal warfare in Ireland.



Patricius was also unique in that he equally valued the role of women in an age when the church ignored them. He always sided with the downtrodden and the excluded, whether they were slaves or the “pagan” Irish.



According to Thomas Cahill, author of How the Irish Saved Civilization, Patricius' influence extended far beyond his adopted land. Cahill's book, which could just as well be titled How St. Patrick Saved Civilization, contends that Patricius' conversion of Ireland allowed Western learning to survive the Dark Ages. Ireland pacified as the rest of Europe crumbled. Patricius' monasteries copied and preserved classical texts. Later, Irish monks returned this knowledge to Europe by establishing monasteries in England, Germany, France, Switzerland, and Italy.



When the lights went out all over Europe, says Cahill, a candle still burned in Ireland – the candle that was lit by Patricius.



Veneration of Patricius gradually assumed the status of a local cult.  He was not simply remembered in Saul and Downpatrick, but he was worshipped. Indeed, homage to Patricius as Ireland's saint was apparent in the eight century AD.  By then, Patricius had achieved the status as a national apostle, completely independent of Rome.  He was regarded locally as a saint before the practice of canonization was introduced by the Vatican. The high regard in which the Irish have held St Patricius is evidenced by the salutation, still common today, of "May God, Mary, and Patrick bless you".



Patricius was not Irish, had nothing to do with leprechauns, almost certainly was not a drunkard who drank green beer, and didn't drive snakes out of Ireland.  In fact, there were no native snakes in Ireland -- that story is believed to be an analogy for driving out the so-called “pagans,” or, at least, the pagan religions.



Patricius was one of the "greats" of history who nearly single-handedly preserved the best of Western culture when much of Europe was devolving into chaos and ruin.  He deserves far better than remembering him in the silly ways we do today, such as wearing green, pinching each other, and getting drunk.  He deserves our accurate memory.  Yet, unfortunately, as we should all have learned by now, all of history’s true Saviors are either killed off, or relegated to the closet of ridicule. 



[Christopher Nyerges is the author of several books, such as Enter the Forest and Extreme Simplicity: Homesteading in the City (co-author), and How to Survive Anywhere.  He has led wilderness expeditions since 1974.  He can be reached at Box 41834, Eagle Rock, CA 90041 or via ChristopherNyerges.com]

Book Review: Exploring Tide Pools of the Pacific Coast

[Nyerges is the author of “Foraging California,” “How to Survive Anywhere,” and other books. He can be reached at www.SchoolofSelf-Reliance.com for information about his books and classes.]


You’re walking along the California coast, somewhere where it’s still possible to see seaweeds and shells and sponges and anemones.  You’re in the tide pools!  These are exciting places to discover what lives where the ocean meets the land, and even to observe the effects of pollution, human intervention, and climate change.


The first step in your expansion of knowledge and insight into the flora and fauna of the diverse tidepools is to learn a bit about the plants and animals that reside there. There are many books available, and one of the better books I’ve recently reviewed is “Fylling’s Illustrated Guide to Pacific Coast Tide Pools,” by Marni Fylling.


It’s a slim book, 76 pages, measuring 5 by 7 inches, so this book fits easily into your pack or pocket.  It’s a simple guide to everything you’ll find in the tide pools, with color drawings. 


After a simple introduction to how the tide pools work, the book shares with us how to recognize the common anemones, sponges, mollusks, worms, arthopods, sea stars and urchins, tunicates (yes, I never heard of those either!), fish, birds, and the seaweeds.  It’s a delightful book, which makes the understanding of what lives in the tide pools easy and accessible.   The color drawings are clear and well-presented.


If you’ve ever watched some of the many “survival” shows on television, you’ll see that those who understand the sea and shore are those who eat.  Where there is water, there are fish, and shellfish, and seaweeds, and basically no excuse to go hungry. 


Kelp is common in the tidepools and along all the coasts, and of course, when properly prepared can provide you with some very flavorful soup or broth.  Various forms of kelp are described in this book, including the bull kelp (the one with the long stem and the hollow ball at the end of the stipe), and the giant kelp.  According to the author, the giant kelp put the bull kelp to shame in its speed of growth.  

Giant kelp can grow 20 inches in a day, faster than almost any other organism on earth.  (The author says “almost.”  I wondered, what could possibly grow faster than that?)

Purple laver is another seaweed found in the tide pools, growing on rocks.  One type of purple laver that many people are familiar with is nori, which has been eaten since at least 500 A.D. (that we know about). 


I learned about tunicates in this book, also known as “sea squirts.” These are the jelly-like masses that you often see on rocks in the tide pools.  These are quite unique creatures in the animal kingdom.

In the crab section, the author describes the diverse crabs to be found in the Pacific tide pools, and also mentions the gooseneck barnacles. Back in my teens, we used to collect the gooseneck barnacles and use them for bait.  I also would take some home to boil and eat, and everyone laughed at me because they said I was “eating bait.”  Still, I learned that you could survive on very little.

“Pacific Coast Tidepools” retails at $15 from Heyday books (www.heydaybooks.com).



OTHER REFERENCES

When I was first studying the life of the beaches, I used Jepson’s Manual of the Higher Plants of California, which is what you use in college to study botany.  That’s a good source, obviously, but not as enjoyable to read as Fylling’s guide to the tide pools.


I also used Euell Gibbon’s “Stalking the Blue-Eyed Scallop,” which covers the edible and useful flora and fauna of the Pacific, Atlantic, and other coasts.  It’s actually quite good, and though illustrated with simple line drawings, is perhaps one of Gibbons’ best works.  Though many of Gibbons’ books were lively conversations, and sometimes lacking in science.  “Blue-Eyed Scallop” demonstrates the true naturalist in Euell Gibbons, and it showed that his love for the sea was his first love.


ENOUGH FOR ALL

In a related vein, Heyday also publishes a book from a Pomo perspective called “Enough For All:  Foods of My Dry Creek Pomo and Bodega Miwuk People” by Kathleen Rose Smith.

Kathleen Rose Smith reveals the practices handed down through generations of her Bodega Miwuk and Pomo ancestors, and shares how these traditions have evolved into the contemporary ways her family still enjoys wild foods. Her knowledge and personal reflections are expressed through recipes, stories, and artwork, recording not only the technical aspects of food gathering, but also the social and spiritual—inextricable elements of traditional California Indian food preparation.

It's a wonderful book, complete with family stories and photos, and also full of useful information of how the wild foods were once collected, and shared with others in a time of need.

“Enough for All” is not only the title, but the theme that more people should adopt in this time when there is so much plenty, but also so many in poverty.

On Homelessness: One Man's Story

[This Blog is partly based upon the e-book "Squatter in Los Angeles: Living on the Edge" by Nyerges.  Nyerges is an author and instructor in skills of self-reliance.  He has also written “Extreme Simplicity: Homesteading in the City,” “Self-Sufficient Home,” and other books.  www.SchoolofSelf-Reliance.com.]

I used to wonder what it would be like to be homeless, needing to survive “on the street.” Then one day I was in that situation – without a home.  I experienced first-hand the homeless “lifestyle.”  I now feel deep empathy for anyone in such a miserable situation.

Although my period of homelessness was relatively short, I continue to see a part of myself mirrored in each homeless person I see.

I’ve come to conclude that most programs (private and governmental) designed to help the homeless cannot succeed (i.e., eliminate homelessness), because they fail to cognize, let alone directly address, the root causes of the problem.

How did I become homeless?  I became homeless in the aftermath of a divorce.  It was difficult at that time for me to stay focused on clear decision-making.  Due to the complexity of the situation, and the heated emotions involved, and bad decisions, I found myself homeless within months of moving out.  Since the house also had a rental unit, it had provided a source of income.  However, without that, and with the instability of the divorce and move, I found myself less able to support myself.  I had been self-employed – writing, teaching, publishing, lecturing. I did still work, but the income was insufficient. 

I recall seeing myself lose my house, as if I was watching it all happen to someone else.  I think that defines a person in shock.  Of course, I’m over-simplifying a miserable and deeply-chaotic period of my life.

My first “home” when I was “houseless” was the unused cellar of a residential home in the neighborhood.  The cellar was empty, convenient, and inconspicuously located.  I’d seen the open door to it when I visited a friend who lived nearby.  This house was on a two-level lot in a hilly district, where you could access each level from a different street. The owner lived, and kept his car on the upper level.  During the weekends, he would sometimes garden in the front yard on the lower level, where I entered the cellar.  So I generally stayed away on the weekends.

While living in the cellar, I had to be very quiet.  I usually came “home” around 11 p.m. when the owner was asleep.  To this day, I do not believe that he knew I resided in his cellar with my few bags of clothes, my full backpack, and my hammock.

Although at this time I had no full-time job, I did manage to maintain a few part-time jobs.  I struggled to do them. To make myself appear presentable, I took a long time to clean up.  I had no bathroom, but there was a hose outside the cellar door.  I bathed with the hose when no one was around, and I vigorously scrubbed myself clean with my boar-bristle brush.  My toilet was a hole I dug with my small shovel; occasionally, I’d use public facilities.

In the evenings, I’d frequently stay late at inexpensive cafés. Then, having no electricity for TV or light, I’d sneak back into my dark “cave” (as I called it) and quietly crawl into my hammock.

I was never “on the street” like so many of today’s homeless.  I did have a roof over my head, even if that roof was the floor of an unsuspecting homeowner’s living room.  But I still experienced the starkness of no stable home.  I stared into the vacuum of all that I once took for granted, that I now lacked:  stability, cleanliness, order, warmth, availability of a toilet, bath, hot water, telephone, etc.   It was not a picnic.

During this period, I was forced to call upon my latent talents.  On one hand, I could detachedly view it all as a positive “freedom”-promoting experience – which it was.  On the other hand, I realized how limiting such a lifestyle was.  No one could readily contact me, and thus dollar-earning possibilities and social activities were nearly non-existent.  Projects of any sort were nearly impossible to implement without some sort of solid home base.  So although I was “free” of most home and social responsibilities and the need to “perform” for a boss, that “freedom” left a lot to be desired.  The large number of “freedom-froms” that I experienced radically limited my number of “freedom-tos.”

I constantly looked for ways to improve my situation by finding ingenious new ways to wash my clothes, to go to the bathroom, to stay clean, to carry my gear less conspicuously.

Shortly after that, I rented a warehouse from a man I’d know for many years.  He thought he was renting me an office and storage space – which he was – and I wrote into our contract that I could live there.  Which I did.  At the warehouse, fear of “discovery” was not longer an issue.

For most of the previous eight years I had been more or less successfully self-employed.  When I became homeless, it was more difficult to maintain any sort of meaningful employment.  I did maintain a few part-time jobs.  For example, I got a job with a Pasadena church where I opened and closed up after services.  I also worked as a part-time day camp counselor teaching wilderness survival skills.  I’d see hundreds of children and dozens of adults each day, but I didn’t need to be “neat and clean” to do these jobs, and they did not know where I went at night.

My closest friends were extremely supportive.  The places that I lived – the cellar, the abandoned house, the warehouse – were all possible only because of the support of these friends.  I was by no means “alone” or “lonely” as a homeless person, but I was embarrassed and determined to get myself out of that situation. During this time, there was never a moment when I was not filled with a driving desire to rise up out of homelessness.  That constant drive—and help from loving friends – is what forced me to explore viable work possibilities and actively to “find home.”

When you have little, it is very easy to go along, day by day, and convince yourself that “things aren’t really that bad.”  I knew that, for me, this attitude, though seductive, would be deadly.  I even thought about how many people – whole cultures – were nomadic and never had permanent homes.  As interesting as that was, however, being a nomad was not a viable life choice in the city of Los Angeles.

When I worked at the Pasadena church, I frequently encountered “on the street” homeless people.  I was regularly approached and asked for one form of assistance or another – but usually money.  These individuals had very real needs, but I came to realize that in most cases, simply putting money into their palms would not attend to those needs.

During this time, I wondered: Is the homeless problem today symptomatic of a greater spiritual crisis, even a spiritual void?  Has our rush towards unabashed materialism and consumerism been a part of this spiritual crisis?  Is the problem strictly personal? Is it strictly economic?

As I continue to encounter the homeless, I keep coming back to two ideas.

One is that much of the solution to homelessness lies deep within the volition of each homeless individual.  The best help is to show someone how to help himself.  Mindless giving—without an actual self-help program – is of no real help in the long run.

Mark Holsinger, Executive Director of the Los Angeles Mission,  wrote a "Letter to the Editor" in the March 14, 1992 Los Angeles Times.  He said, "As frustrating as it is that not all homeless people accept help, we should not forget that many gratefully accept the opportunity to change their lives.  The problem for most of the homeless isn't a lack of services or affordable housing or jobs.  Their problem is their lack of desire to change  [emphasis mine] -- to get off drugs, to function in a way that is acceptable to society, to respect others and themselves.”  He adds that it’s not easy to get off the streets, but certainly possible to become a  productive citizen because he works daily with those who’ve made that change."

I know that it is a stereotype that homeless people are alcoholics and drug users.  Some are, and they need to do whatever it takes, and accept whatever help is offered, to get off drugs and stop drinking. Still, it should be noted that many, perhaps even the majority, of homeless people are not drug users or alcoholics.  

 

The second idea is that part of the solution to homelessness must rest within the hearts and minds of those more fortunate individuals who are in a position to help.

My period of homelessness in Highland Park was relatively short.  My “recovery” took “only” two years.  In my process of recovery – my gaining of my ability once more to seek stable self-employment –   I never took anything for granted. The memory of the misery of being homeless was hard to shake.  I learned how difficult it can be to rise back up from the bottom.

You’d think that this would have been easy for me. After all, I had already been teaching others about wilderness survival and using wild plants for food for about 10 years.  And those skills were definitely instrumental in the manner in which I lived my life during that time.  But let’s face it.  Urban Los Angeles is not the Angeles National Forest, and where you might be able to live in a brush shelter in the wilderness and catch fish, the urban setting is a social and economic wilderness with rules of its own.  Still, when I see some of the filth and smell of homeless camps, I realized that my skills and knowledge allowed me to be homeless but under the radar of the public. 

Shortly after my experience, I was the editor of a local newsletter and I solicited commentary from various local leaders, including  then-mayor Tom Bradley.  Mayor Bradley wrote to me, “I agree that just providing emergency shelter for homeless is only a short-term solution to a much larger and complex problem. We must also provide job training, physical and mental health services, counseling, employment assistance, and housing assistance if we are to effectively combat the homeless problem in the City of Los Angeles.”   This was in 1989, and Mayor Garcetti is still wrestling with the many aspects of this complex problem.

We must begin to see that there is not a mass called “the homeless.”  Instead, there are distinct individuals – our brothers and sisters – with distinct problems and issues, each requiring unique solutions.

In my interactions with the homeless, I continue to abide by the old well-used Chinese axiom, “Give a man a fish and he eats for a day. Teach a man to fish and he eats for life.” Yes, it may sound trite, but it’s a good beginning.  It takes both sides to make this work.  And the “fishing” that we need to share and teach involves economic habits, job training, work ethics, personal habits, social habits, etc.   All of this will not be easy, but it can be done.

"It's good to know there are still humans out there."

On Panhandling, and Homelessness

Part One

[www.SchoolofSelf-Reliance.com]

I’ve often wrestled with the conflict of how to deal with the person on the street who asks me for money.

I ask myself, “Should I give this fellow the dime, or the dollar, that he’s asking for? Will he use it for alcohol or drugs?  Or is this person genuinely in need of food and coffee? Is the person homeless, or just in a low ebb?

For most of my life, I’ve chosen between one of two courses of action, both of which left me feeling uneasy.

I’d either say “No, I haven’t any change,” because I didn’t want to interact with the person, or, I’d toss some change at the person, paying him off, as it were, so I would be left alone.  Oh, there was a third option too – just ignore the person.

An experience of mine showed me that there is another way, a more humane way, of dealing with our fellow man (or woman).

I was with several friends tending to some business in downtown L.A., a few days before Christmas.  We stopped to have dinner at Phillipe’s, across the street from Olvera Street and Grand Central Station.

As we were departing the restaurant, a man who’d been standing just outside the door asked one of my friends if he could have some change for a sandwich.

My friend, Vernon, asked the stranger his name.

“My name is William,” the man replied, somewhat suspiciously.

Vernon then simply asked the man what kind of sandwich he wanted.

“Ham!,” William immediately responded.  Vernon then asked one of our group to go back into the restaurant and buy William a ham sandwich.  William wanted to wait outside, but Vernon insisted that we all go inside together.  Vernon then sat William down at one of the stools at Phillipe’s, and served him a ham sandwich, pickles, and a cup of coffee (black).

Needless to say, the rest of us were a bit taken aback, but since Vernon was our teacher, we respectfully kept quiet.

Vernon then talked with William, learning that William was currently unemployed, lived alone in a small nearby apartment, and was in his late 40s.  William spoke openly about this situation as he savored his sandwich. William was dressed modestly, with clothes that were by no means new, and a bit scuffed.  But he was by no means a “bum,” even though one might think otherwise by looking at him.

Vernon told William – and it was the first time I’d heard this – that he (Vernon) had been in a similar situation several years earlier.  Thanks to the goodwill of total strangers who took Vernon in until he “got back on his feet,” Vernon was able to re-enter the work force and “become a productive asset to society.”  William stopped chewing and looked at Vernon when he said that. “That meant I was able to pay my bills,” said Vernon, laughing. William and the rest of us laughed too.

William was highly and openly appreciative.  He loudly proclaimed as we took our leave, “It’s good to know there are still humans out there.”

During our drive home – we had all come in one vehicle – we discussed what Vernon had done.  To me, I had just witnessed a revelatory “better way” of dealing with my fellow man.

Since then, I’ve put this into practice on many occasions.  In some instances, the individual refused my offer of food because he wanted to buy alcohol.  But overall, following Vernon’s example has provided me with uplifting interactions with people I’d previously remained blind to.  One man actually told me that I was the first person who talked to him in two weeks!  He’d seen people, and people gave him money, but no one else actually took a moment to talk to him.

In those cases where I was aggressively asked for money, I would refuse or walk away.  I was repelled by the notion that I owed the person something, because they were down on their luck.  Years later, when I experienced a period of homelessness, I kept this in mind, that my attitude can be a major factor in whether or not someone will choose to get involved with me in solving my problem.  For example, among other things, I learned to always lead with an offer when I was in need, and I learned to find how I could benefit the person from whom I was seeking aid.

Of course, none of this is a long-term solution to homelessness, or poverty, but it is a step in the right direction.  I believe that most people are more than willing to help others if they are approached with humility and honesty. 

How I Published my First Book.

How I  published my first book:

Memories of Sue and Rich Redman.

[Excerpt from “Squatter in Los Angeles,” a Kindle book.  Also available from the Store at www.SchoolofSelf-Reliance.com.]

It was during the time that I was a squatter that I began my life-long association with Sue and Rich Redman. I probably would not have remembered this aspect of my squatting life had it not been for the fact that in December of 2013, when I started writing this book, Sue Redman passed away.  I was very upset, and felt a great sense of loss, and began to recall my life with Sue, and with Rich. They were two sides of one coin.

Even though I had a semi-guaranteed weekly income of $5 a week (circa 1977), and therefore felt that I was on top of the world, I did have enough sense to realize that I should get some sort of job that could provide just a bit more income in case times got rough.  I decided to knock on some doors of small newspapers who might actually hire me.

I went up to the Altadena office of the Altadena Chronicle, owned by Sue and Rich Redman. They decided to give me a try at typesetting since I was somewhat familiar with their massive outdated equipment from when I worked on similar equipment in Ohio.

Gradually, I typeset the entire first edition of my Guide to Wild Foods in my offtime at the Altadena Chronicle office, and Janice (who illustrated the first edition) laid it all out for printing. I managed to save and borrow enough money for the printing and binding. Rich Redman took over the printing, and within a relatively short while, we had a big production going on with the stacks of printed material. 

Rich told me that I could save money if I collated all the very large sheets into their proper order so that we could then take it to a folder and binder operation in Burbank.  So we loaded everything onto someone’s truck and took them to the large kitchen of my Highland Park squatter’s homestead.  Remember, this was going to be about 2000 books, so there were many stacks of large sheets of paper.  I cleared all the counters and tables and invited people over for work one Saturday.  I purchased pizza and other snacks.  We had big stacks in the kitchen and people found their way there and helped to hand-collate the pages.   

Perhaps a dozen people came over, and by dark, Janice and I were still collating.  We finished on Sunday, and then took the book the following week to the book producer that Rich had suggested.   We had begun to see the potential of this cinder block house on top of the hill as a business location.

In about two weeks, the books were done and I was again on the top of the world, relatively speaking.  The book really had quite a few typos and entire sections missed!  It could have and should have been a bit better.  Remember this was all “old School.”  No computers, just printouts and endless printouts, and then physically pasting-up a dummy to be printed from negatives.

Once the initial excitement of having a book in print wore off (which it did quickly), I then realized that I was in possession of many boxes of books which I stored in my room and wherever I could fit them. I upgraded my bed, which had been a sheet of plywood on top of four or five milkcrates.  Now I had a platform composed of boxes of books, over which I laid my plywood bed.  Now, besides everything else, I was in the book marketing and distribution business, something I knew close to nothing about.

By far the most book sales were face-to-face with the people who came to my classes and the stack of books did slowly diminish.  It took about a year to sell a thousand.  Eventually, there was a second printing, with corrections fixed and improved drawings.  Then there was another edition with a color cover, with two printings. Then many years later, there was an edition wherein I drew all the line drawings of the plants – my favorite version. Other editions followed, where I no longer desired to be a book publisher, wholesaler, advertiser, and warehouser. I have since discovered why authors prefer to write books, and let someone else in on the action and income by doing the publishing and sales.

I sold some of that first edition book through an ad that Sue Redman gave me in their Altadena Chronicle, next to the wild plant column I’d write every week.  Not many, really, but I did sell some, and more people began to ask me to give a talk here and lead a walk there. I believed I was doing something important to help the people of the world help themselves. I was living as a squatter, with an income well below the national poverty level, with no medical insurance, just a motorcycle for transportation, and feeling good that I slept on my plywood bed.  Still, despite the fact that my lofty lifestyle and vast success should have gone to my head, I had plenty of people who helped to keep me humble.  My relation with the Redmans began at this very pivotal time in my life, and we remained close friends lifelong.

Years later, after a marriage and divorce, and a period of homelessness,  I then began to reside in a small house on the Redman’s property up in the extreme northwest area of Altadena called the Meadows.  I loved living under the protective umbrella of the Redmans, and felt again as if I were a close part of that family. I had no heating or cooling there, just the open or closed doors. It was a small place where I slept on the floor, and awoke to the sound of birds and a squirrel who always jumped on my roof from the mulberry tree. I made compost there, gardened, did water recycling, and frequently removed a rattlesnakes from the garden and out to the remote canyon. It was a wonderful place that I shared with the deer, the squirrels, and the bear that raided the trash can every Sunday night.

When I came back from Mexico one winter while residing there in Altadena, Sue greeted me and we talked about what I’d just learned about Kukulkan, the Mayan Christ. Sue was fascinated and said, “You must write about that.” Indeed.

Sue’s passing reminds me that life is precious, that each moment is a forever eternity which disappears like the sun behind a mountain.  Sue’s passing reminds me that I have had a rich life in the quality of friends and mentors.  She reminds me that one should live each moment to the fullest and best, and that to love selflessly and impersonally is to become immortal, as she has become in my mind.

Police Chases: Why must they be televised live?

POLICE CHASES: Why must the television news stations report them live?

[Nyerges is the author of “Extreme Simplicity,” “How to Survive Anywhere,” and other books.  He is a teacher of self-reliance, and can be reached at www.SchoolofSelf-Reliance.com.]

Sometimes, I have time to watch television in the evenings, and there are a few things I look forward to.  For example, I really like Doc Martin, the BBC program about a quirky doctor in some small English town.

But I particularly look forward to watching the 11 p.m. local news, mostly to see the weather reports for the following few days.  It gives me a chance to see how my outdoor activities might need to be modified if there is rain forecast, or high temperatures.

However, for reasons that I have not fathomed, whenever someone decides not to stop for the police and makes a run for it, we are forced to watch the entire chase, boring as it usually is.

Last night was no exception.  After the first five minutes of the news, and the weather teaser, we were told that the police were in pursuit of a suspect, and then we watched from the helicopter’s point of view as four or five police vehicles followed a van on local freeways.  That meant that for the remaining 25 or so minutes of what was expected to be actual news, I was forced to watch a scene of a van at high speeds with police cars in pursuit.

I turned the channel.  I was not surprised – though I was dismayed –to find that every other 11 p.m. news channel was covering the same event, from pretty much the same angle. Channel 2, 4, 5, 7 – nothing but the police chase!  My time was wasted, and I only waited by the TV because I hoped they’d have some sense and at least cut in and give me the weather report. At the very least, they could have put the chase scene into a little box on the bottom of the screen so that those who really got excited by the chase could see it, and the rest of us could hear the weather report and other news.

I have never been privy to the offices of the news stations who make such decisions that a police chase is now the top priority and we’re going to cover it, until the end.  For many reasons, it’s a bad decision, and should be changed.

For one thing, I often wonder if the fleeing person has a radio or small TV in their car, and is listening to the newscasters who are telling the viewing audience where the police are located, how many police are following, and speculating on what tactics the police might use to end the chase.  If I were a police officer, I’d find this very intrusive of my work.  In some cases in the past, because of the non-stop television exposure, people would be out on the street, cheering on the fleeing person in some cases, and generally getting in the way of the police activity.  That wouldn’t have happened if the television station simply reported the news of the chase after it was over, and informed us about the outcome. 

Another reason why I find the chase so mundane is that the newscaster are practically pulling hairs to keep a conversation going, especially when it is a prolonged chase.  The commentary is predictable.

Is it a male or female driver? How many people are in the car? How much gas do you think they have left? I wonder where they are going? Do you think they will turn around and head back to where they came?  Do you think he has a gun? Is the car stolen?  Can we read the license plates? Why did they not stop from the police?  It goes on and on, with mindless prattle about the details that concern the police but not the average TV viewer.

And sometimes it’s worse than that.  We watch on live TV as a driver being pursued hits other cars, hurts people, kills people.  It’s bad enough that it’s happening, but it makes it worse to think that the pursuing driver might actually be listening to the news report and deriving some sick glory from all the attention he (or she) is getting.

I think George Orwell would be proud of his ability to see the mindlessness of the people of the future of which he wrote.  When every television station is fixated on watching the police chase someone, I can only think of Orwell and his insightful “1984.”  Admittedly, sometimes we are told that the person fleeing is a felon, or has just shot someone, or some other fact about the matter, though we almost never learn the outcome of the chase.  Sometimes it ends within the allotted time frame, and often it doesn’t.  But even if we watch a car stop, and the guy get out, and get arrested, it is always a big “so what?” to me, because we still do not have any idea of the full picture of what just transpired – and the worse part is that I do not get to hear the weather report!

Suggestion: Call, write, or email your local television station, and tell them that you’re not satisfied with the incessant coverage of police chases.  Their contact information is readily available on-line. Of course, if you like watching such chases, then do nothing, and everything will stay the same, and I’ll just have to start looking up the weather reports on-line…

Country in the City

Excerpt from "Squatter in Los Angeles," a Kindle book, also available from the Store at www.SchoolofSelf-Reliance.com

COUNTRY IN THE CITY

Part of the underpinnings for my philosophy of what I did stemmed from my reading of the Plain Truth magazine back when I was still living with my parents. I’d read about subjects such as agriculture, and various social ills. I’d have long discussions with Nathaniel Schleimer.  We were high school buddies, inseparable, and we’d go into Eaton Canyon at night, and sit and talk. We were both hikers, backpackers, bicyclists.  We both had a love and respect for the natural world, not as nature-worshippers exactly, but from the standpoint that our life is dependent on the life of the planet.

We knew without having to earn a PhD that to stay in radiant health, you had to exercise, and drink good water, and eat good food, and think good thoughts. Neither Nathaniel nor I were optimistic about the state of the affairs of the world. We didn’t have to look far to see that the system was constantly being stretched beyond its limits by too many people, all needing to eat, and the growers and deliverers and processors of food all finding ways to take shortcuts to feed the masses.  That’s why we got interested in wild foods. We didn’t think we were particularly special, but we knew that a step in the right direction was to learn the skills of self-reliance, one by one, little by little. 

We were still young, and still living with our parents, but we seemed to work out the general and most sensible path for survival.  We saw dark clouds looming for this country, and though we hadn’t yet risen to the level of being concerned about our fellow man, we wanted to survive ourselves. 

By the time I’d graduated from high school, I wanted nothing more than to live this life, and living on a farm made the most sense.  I moved to Chardon, Ohio and lived on my grandfather’s farm with my brother and my uncle for 7 months.   

Still, since I didn’t have the tools and resources to actually live the life I wanted to live there, I came back to California.  My interests coincided with the non-profit WTI of Highland Park, a small group of people who had taken up roots in a ruralish-seeming part of Los Angeles.  They were sometimes described to me as people who were trying to live country in the city, an ideal that appealed to me. As Nathaniel and I often lamented, why do so many of us backpackers go into the wilderness and practice their high degree of concern for the land and water and resource-use, but then return back home and practice the same tired wastefulness as everyone else?  Why not “be here now,” and “be the example of what you want to see in the world,” as others have said?

So when I was in the unenviable position of being a squatter, these are many of the ideas that ran through my mind each day.  Here I am, now, and I can live and practice these principles, more or less unfettered.  Just do it!  I was still in the position of having few monetary resources, but lots of ideas, sufficient time, and good health so that I had no excuses for not living what I believed.

I have many times thought back to my friend Joe who I’d invite to my high school to speak about ecology and natural living. Joe had the words, and the ideas, and the concepts.  Yet, once when I visited Joe and began to ask him some questions about what he personally did to be a part of the solution, he disappointed me by asserting that “nothing will change without government intervention.”  I found that absurd, and still do.  Of course, I am writing this decades later, and I have a greater perspective now. I remember reading about the “re-education” camps of  the North Vietnamese, and of Pol Pot.  In those extreme cases, “government intervention” simply meant “do it the way we tell you or we kill you.”  Is that really what’s required to change the world?

Well, to be fair, Joe did have a point, to a degree.  However, I have slowly come to the realization that no one can change the world, you can only change yourself, and your habits and behavior. Now, that  might affect others who see your example. Maybe. They see “something better,” something that rings true and they try it in their own way in their own life. You’ve affected one person by changing your behavior.  Then, the idea catches on. Why didn’t we think of this before? It become almost the norm, and then little by little, further refinements in our thinking and in our actions.

So though Joe was perhaps correct to lament and criticize what he perceived as non-action by “the government,” that still did not give him an excuse to not do all those things that he could do in his own personal private life.  And since I was so ignorant of politics and the games that go on in city hall, my only realm of change was in my own little world. What could I do?  Is it enough? Could I do more, given more time and money and cooperation from others?  These were the things that would keep me up at night.

How to Make Your Own Nicotine-free Smoking Mixes

Have you ever had to fill out some sort of form, maybe for a job or some sort of poll, and they want to know if you are a smoker?  I  always check “no.”  I am not a smoker.  Well, at least I don’t smoke much.   I have long maintained that the real culprit in commercial cigarettes are the chemicals added to the tobacco and paper, things such as moisturizers, flavors, things to keep the cigarette burning, etc. etc.  There are anywhere from 70 to 250 such chemicals, depending on who you believe.  If the tobacco companies had to list all the ingredients on the label, there’d be no room on cigarette containers. 

Let’s just assume that “the government,” in its ultimate wisdom of knowing what is best for us, decided to put all the tobacco companies out of business and you could no longer buy tobacco at your corner market.  Guess what?  Various species of tobacco grow wild throughout the country. 

Here in the West, there is a widespread introduced species of tobacco commonly known as Indian tobacco (Nicotiana glauca) or tree tobacco (it can grow up to 25 feet tall). (In fact, there are wild tobaccos throughout North America.)  We allow it to grow out back because its yellow tubular flowers attract hummingbirds.  This plant would kill you if you ate it, but it can be dried and smoked.  It is far more potent than commercially grown tobaccos, and in general I would not recommend driving your car and smoking this plant at the same time.  If the bureaucratic do-gooders ever outlawed tobacco, there’d still be no shortage of wild tobaccos around the country.

All that said, though I have smoked tobaccos in the past (commercial and wild), today I prefer to make my own non-nicotine smoking mixes for those times when I sit out back and think about important things.

My blend varies from season to season, depending on what wild leaves I have picked and dried. 

The blend will typically have some dried peppermint and/or white sage (Salvia apiana).  This gives a sweet flavor to the smoke, somewhat like menthol in cigarettes.  Any of the sages and mints would do -- even those growing in your garden.  This should be no more than 1/5 of your blend. 

Horehound (Marrubium vulgare) is a European medicinal herb that can now be found throughout most of North America and the world. It has a long history of use for treating coughs and sore throats when used as a hot tea or candy.  I learned recently that it can also be blended into your smoking mixes and there still may be some good effect from the horehound, even if you smoke it.  It is a true mint, after all, and it smokes well, though it doesn’t add that menthol-like quality to your smoking mix as do the other mints.

I often add dried manzanita leaves (Arcostaphylos sps.), which were used by American Indians of the Southwest in their smoking blends.  This smokes very well, though there is little taste or flavor.  The most commonly known variety is the kinnikinnik, or Arcostaphylos uva-ursi, which is not a bush or tree like the other manzanitas but is a trailing vine.  Regardless which variety I use, I let them air dry, and then crush them into small pieces. The manzanita leaves are all somewhat tough and leathery so it will be necessary to break them into small bits so they can smoke.  I have heard that the flavor of this particular leaf is improved a bit if it is aged, and if it is allowed to slightly ferment, in much the same way that one might age certain tobaccos.  However, I  have never taken the time to experiment with this, since the dried and crumbled leaves smoke quite well.

I sometimes add dried and pulverized willow bark (Salix sps.), usually red or arroyo willow.  This adds a pleasant flavor, and was apparently used in traditional American Indian smoking blends.  A tea from the willow bark has effects similar to aspirin, and can be drunk or applied to wounds to relieve pain.  In fact, the original aspirin came from the inner back of willows, which contains salicin.  We have heard some folks say that smoking the willow bark in their mixes also provides some pain-relieving qualities.  That’s not been my experience, but you can try it and see what you experience.

I add the dried leaves of mullein.  Mullein (Verbascum thapsus) is now a common weed in the U.S. though it’s a European native.  Of the many virtues of mullein, it is good in a tea for breathing problems, even asthma.  Interestingly, mullein has long been smoked to improve the breathing passages.  If you’re going to smoke, you really ought to include mullein in your mix.  The large leaves of mullein have the texture of flannel.  I generally pick leaves from the first year growth.  Mullein lives for two years, and in the second year it sends up a tall flower spike and produces smaller leaves.  (By the way, these fresh leaves make pretty good toilet paper).  Mullein is common throughout the country in fields and along streams.

I  usually add a little bit of mugwort to my mix -- no more than about 1/5 of the mix -- since it produces a very pleasant aroma when burned.  Mugwort (Artemisia sps.) is found along streams and the dried leaves, rolled into a cigar shape, were used by early Native American in Southern California as punks for transporting coals.  When I collect mugwort for smoking, I typically just collect the leaves from the lower stalk of the plant that have dried on the plant.  On the other hand, if I am collecting the leaves for their medicinal values, I would collect the leaves green, clean them, and then dry them for storage. 

There are other herbs that I sometimes add in various amounts.  I like the leaves of passionflower (Passiflora sps.), a somewhat common vining plants throughout much of the west, the south, Europe, Mexico, and even the Hawaiian islands.  The leaves have a sweet odor

and don’t seem to irritate the throat or mouth.  Medicinally, the tea from passionflower is drunk in cases of insomnia or nervousness.  The flowers are used medicinally also, but I usually only smoke the leaves. 

I also add a small amount of Damiana leaves to the blend which I buy from the health food store.  This is a plant which supposedly grows in the wild around, but it is a plant I do not know and haven’t encountered it.  It makes a delicious tea, and a very pleasant smoke.  Damiana leaves were also smoked by the ancient Aztecs.  I have long enjoyed the fragrance of the damiana tea, and it does create a pleasant aroma when smoked. 

When I have it, I add a few pulverized pieces of sweetgrass braids to the smoking blend.

Yerba Santa (Eriodictyon sps.)  is a common southwestern herb found in dry and desert-like places.  It is very fragrant, and usually sticky.  There are several varieties, and all have a history of being used as a tea for breathing and bronchial problems.  It is sometimes added to smoking mixes for its fragrance, and apparently because some folks believe that the beneficial effects on the lungs and bronchial tract still carryover when you smoke it.

Interestingly, you’ll notice that many of the herbs I have listed are frequently used as the primary remedy for coughs, sore throats, asthmatic conditions, etc.  At the very least, there is the presumption that by smoking herbs that are generally beneficial to the throat and lungs, that you will be somewhat counteracting the harmful effects of the smoke.  Whether this has any real scientific basis is uncertain.

Coltsfoot is an herb commonly found along roadside ditches and wet areas in the eastern parts of the United States.  It is a two year plant, and the large first year leaves are the ones typically gathered for smoking.  Coltsfoot has been used as a smoke for at least a few centuries, and there is the belief that smoking it can actually be somewhat good for a sore throat.

You can make your own blends and determine what you like. 

I don’t smoke a lot – I might sit out back maybe once a month or so and smoke my hand-made elder pipe.  I’m not addicted to it, like the  person who can’t stop chain smoking commercial cigarettes.  I simply likes to smoke occasionally, at special times, while thinking about a particular subject. 

I am quick to reiterate that I am neither encouraging nor endorsing smoking of any sort.  I certainly do not advocate the use of regular commercial tobacco, since its use is related to a host of diseases. But perhaps the use of wild nicotine-free herbs can help you cut down on the harmful tobacco.   If you do choose to smoke, moderation is the key.  

And if you’re one of those people who simply isn’t going to go out and collect your own herbs, then try the Store at www.SchoolofSelf-Reliance.com or send $12  to School of Self-Reliance, Box 41834, Eagle Rock, CA 90041.  

Nyerges is the author of “Guide to Wild Foods,” “Foraging California,” “How to Survive Anywhere,” “Self-Sufficient Home,” and other books. He leads regular survival and wild food walks. He can be reached at www.SchoolofSelf-Reliance.com, or Box 41834, Eagle Rock, CA 90041.

COMPARISON OF COMMON NON-NICOTINE SMOKING HERBS

	Availability in wild	How prepared	Flavor **	Harsh-ness	Aroma **	How used medicinally *
Coltsfoot	Common in wet areas in Eastern U.S.	Dry the first year leaves	Mild, bland	Mild	Mildly sweet	Tea for bronchial problems
Damiana	Uncertain	Dry the leaves	Good, “herbal”	Medium	Very pleasant, like incense	*
Horehound	Very common	Dry the leaves	Mild	Mild	Bland	Tea for coughs, sore throats
Mint(s)	Common in wild and gardens	Dry the leaves	Mild	Medium	Mild, sweet	Many uses.  Good tea for digestion.
Manzanita	Widespread in west and southwest	Dry the leaves	Mild	Medium	Bland	*
Mugwort	Widespread along streams	Dry the leaves	Sagey	Medium to harsh	Sweet, like incense	Many uses
Mullein	Widespread in fields	Dry the first year leaves	Bland	Mild	Bland	Used as tea for asthma and breathing problems
Passionflower leaf	Widespread vine in west and south	Dry the leaves	Bland	Medium	Sweet; has been compared to marijuana	Used as tea; natural sedative
Sage(s)	Widespread in gardens and in wild	Dry the leaves	Sweet, adds a menthol quality	Medium	Sweet, sagey, like incense	Many uses
Yerba santa	Widespread throughout the west	Dry the leaves	Somewhat sweet, “medicinal”	Medium to harsh	Fragrant smoke	Used as tea for coughs, breathing problems
Willow	Widespread along streams worldwide	Dry the young bark, shred it.	Bland, not noticeable	Medium	Bland	Used as tea for pain-reliever

*  For medicinal uses of herbs, see any of the books by herbalist Michael Moore.

** In general, Bland flavor and aroma indicates that there is no strongly identifiable flavor or odor, and that the herb blends well with other smoking herbs.