The green journey is really about entering a new part of the inner self; a voyage of discovery of distant lands and cultures, so to speak.
There are strange tongues and new words that hitherto you may have only heard, but now start to explore; what are eco-friendly homes?
This page was last updated by Bernard Preston on 17th December, 2020.
It is like a tram doing a large circuit of a strange city; you can get on and off at various stations, each inviting, but you cannot visit every district and suburb in a week. In fact, it takes a lifetime, and you are still not done exploring.
Quite possibly you are still at Grand Central Station, watching the trams flashing past, and quite bewildered.
One tram has a flashing sign, and it is on the way to Solar City. Another is inviting you to global warming, and the first stop you see simply screams out about the melting ice pack.
And yet another is beckoning to greater well-being.
One is inviting you to what is really a very old square simply known as Prayer and yet another is just called The Garden. Perhaps the first stop beckoning is signboarded Permaculture, and the second Sustainability and yet a third Nitrogen Fixation.
Endless trams continue to intrigue and frighten you; where will it lead you, if you dare to step on one of them? Yet another of life's cul de sacs, or will one of these bring meaning and fulfillment?
One thing is certain; please, would someone stop the world. I do want to get off; I am so tired. Is less really more?
The green journey is a voyage within, and many, even most, never make it. It all sounds so difficult, like climbing Everest, or sailing the North-West passage. Yet, to your surprise, you see hundreds of people stepping onto this tram or that; they are obviously familiar with the scene at Grand Central Station, and quite unphased by the throngs jumping on and off.
They have already started the green journey, yet some still look very hesitant but, with a push and shove, they are on board, and off the tram speeds.
Where shall I start, you think? Which tram shall I take? Do not rush, but also do not wait too long, or you may find yourself left behind. But you do want to get on the right journey to begin with; look until you see a sign that resonates with you.
For me there were two beacons that called. The first was, if you do not look after your body, where are you planning to live? That resonated; in fact it shocked me out of my reverie. And the second was, you do want to sit one day under the trees you once planted, and watch your grandchildren grow up, do you not?
There will be other beacons beckoning you, so you just step on the tram that has got your name on it. For me, it was the one called life without medication.
A life without medication and leaving behind a habitable world for our grandchildren rank high on my list of priorities; they were the first and second stops on our green journey.
Perhaps you are just sick and tired of taking so many pills. This one to do that, and another to counteract its side-effects; yet a different drug to deal with the nagging pain in the tum, or those terrible headaches. Your body aches all over, and you are only forty.
Or perhaps you are deathly afraid because two of your friends have just been diagnosed with a breast tumour, and your mother seems to have the early signs of senile dementia, and she is not even sixty-five.
Or your spouse has already had one coronary ablation, and now he is going in for open-heart surgery and you are afraid. You know that takeaways are all too often on the card, and you cannot stop smoking yourself, so how can you nag at him?
Mysterious and elusive well-being, and being free from the illness and pain that lurk, seemingly on the horizon, and then, bingo, a tram rumbles into the station, and it has got your name on it; it is called the green journey, and the driver is hooting at you, waiting for you to climb on.
In short, caring for our bodies is a spiritual duty; in the words of St Francis of Assisi, treat Brother Ass kindly.
Search here for life without medication.
Solar city is a stop you will find at our green home; there is oodles of free sunshine just waiting to be collected, stored and used.
Suddenly inexplicably a smoke stack pouring carbon-dioxide and other noxious smelling gases into the atmosphere has invaded your mind's eye. You cannot escape it; we are poisoning our world by burning fossil fuels.
You have been carefully looking the other way, desperately, but still that smoke stack offends; and then someone posts you an email showing the melting ice-pack, and you realise it is for real. And you look at your grandchildren, and guilt smites; what legacy are you leaving them?
No longer can you evade it, and you start to make inquiries. Could your second vehicle be battery-operated? Is it safe? Do they break down? How far can they go? And could I stomach those ugly panels on my roof to energise my home, and charge my E-car? Instead of going on that cruise to Alaska this year, should we instead visit Solar City?
You choose your own personalised voyage; make the green journey your private mission.
Choice foods are half the trip to a quality, long life. They are a top destination at Bernard Preston's travel bureau to the green journey.
There is one place that is really nagging; granny and gramps were such serene people and you have memories of walking with them down into their secret garden. There she grew such beautiful flowering shrubs and a host of choice nutritious foods, and he was always busy with his compost piles and fruit trees, and his bee-hives.
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They both lived to their upper eighties, and you have a fear that neither of you are going to make it to seventy; perhaps not even sixty if that bypass does not go well.
But it is the little sampler that granny had stitched and framed next to her bedside that really gets under your skin.
When the world wearies, and society ceases to satisfy, there is always the garden.
Oh how wearisome the world is, and how the superficiality of friends and family so often seems. Can I really give up watching so much TV, and just play bridge once a week, and get stuck into the garden? Would it bring me Granny's serenity? She sometimes called it forest bathing.
Would that organic food really cure me of all that ails?
Do I really want to start the green journey? Maybe I'll create my own one that is just right for me.
What would it do to my back? Perhaps it would mean umpteen more visits to the DC. On the other hand it might actually make me stronger.
Could I really do those exercises he is been nagging me to do all these years, but I really could not be bothered? He keeps saying that they only take two minutes every morning before getting out of bed.
Even so it is bad enough making time to brush and floss your teeth. I'll just find another two minutes. But I am so busy, so rushed, I just thirty hours in a day.
"Actually, you do," chimes Jiminy Cricket. "You just have to change your priorities."
Shall I take The Garden tram? The first station is Growing Swiss Chard. Yes, I think I will. Maybe tomorrow I will buy some seeds.
In far more profound terms, Joanna Macy's version of the green journey, is about opening our hearts and very selves to the natural world; she calls it the greening of the self. It is only now beginning to filter through how homeless we would feel and, in fact, are beginning to experience, as we ruin our Mother Earth.
The fact that there will soon be more plastic in the sea than fish, and those crossing the Pacific describe it as dead, seems remote. But when ten dead sperm whales are washed up on our shores, their bellies filled with polyethylene, we begin to grasp the severity of it all. What kind of an inheritance are we leaving to our grandchildren, or is that a topic far too painful to consider?
If each of us began with just one tiny thing; it would make a tremendous difference; a first step. Recycle a beer-can, not drop a battery in the garbage, or plant a bee-friendly legume; deciding never again to purchase an incandescent light bulb, and recycle some plastic would contribute.
Greening of the self is a great concept; we are beginning to realize that the world is our body; the Amazon jungle and the oceans are my lungs.
Worldwide, abundant clean water is increasingly becoming a problem. Building new dams that destroy our wetlands is coming under the spotlight on a planet losing its biodiversity daily.
Capturing and storing the rain is our water innovation project, a central feature of our green journey, and it has proved inexpensive and reasonably simple.
Capetonians have discovered the meaning of the phrase water-shedding, as it has been forced up their noses with great discomfort. Yet a 30,000 litre underground reservoir would solve the problems faced by every family; it was a major step forwards at our eco-friendly home.
Only for one month in seven years have we needed water from the municipal reticulation; it is pristine, and very cold stored underground. We drink it without filtration.
This is our rainwater harvesting model.
Bernard Preston's green journey through the polders of Holland might interest you; it is only available as an ebook on your tablet or Kindle.
The green journey is just waiting for you; like Pilgrim's Progress there are pitfalls along the way. That is what makes it fun.
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