#indigenous knowledge systems

[raffaellopalandri]

The Pursuit of Knowledge Without Wisdom or Virtue: An Intellectual Tragedy

Today’s topic is one of those that more often comes out during Sangha meetings or in lay discussions: knowledge, when isolated from wisdom (sophia / σοφία) and virtue (aretḗ / ἀρετή), is no longer a guarantor of human flourishing but may become a tool of hubris (hybris — ὕβρις) and ruin. Photo by Magda Ehlers on Pexels.com Knowledge (epistēmē / ἐπιστήμη) here must be distinguished from wisdom:…

[thesomethingguy]

From Elders to Youth: Passing Down Stories in Indigenous Cultures

Before books, before film, before podcasts—there was the storyteller. Sitting by a fire, weaving words into lessons, laughter, and legacy. In Indigenous communities around the world, storytelling isn’t just a pastime. It’s a vital cultural tradition. A living library passed from one generation to the next. It’s how knowledge survives. How histories are remembered. How identities are shaped. And…

[delicatelysublimeforester]

Help Us Name Our Local Moose: A Guide to Safe Encounters and the Contest

Name the Moose Contest: Help Us Choose the Perfect Name for Our Local Giants! The Name the Moose contest is an exciting opportunity to get involved with the wildlife of Richard St. Barbe Baker Afforestation Area and George Genereux Park -City of Saskatoon urban regional parks- where moose have occasionally been sighted. We’re calling on local residents and wildlife enthusiasts to submit their…

[reasonsforhope]

"In response to last year’s record-breaking heat due to El Niño and impacts from climate change, Indigenous Zenù farmers in Colombia are trying to revive the cultivation of traditional climate-resilient seeds and agroecology systems.

One traditional farming system combines farming with fishing: locals fish during the rainy season when water levels are high, and farm during the dry season on the fertile soils left by the receding water.

Locals and ecologists say conflicts over land with surrounding plantation owners, cattle ranchers and mines are also worsening the impacts of the climate crisis.

To protect their land, the Zenù reserve, which is today surrounded by monoculture plantations, was in 2005 declared the first Colombian territory free from GMOs.

...

In the Zenù reserve, issues with the weather, climate or soil are spread by word of mouth between farmers, or on La Positiva 103.0, a community agroecology radio station. And what’s been on every farmer’s mind is last year’s record-breaking heat and droughts. Both of these were charged by the twin impacts of climate change and a newly developing El Niño, a naturally occurring warmer period that last occurred here in 2016, say climate scientists.

Experts from Colombia’s Institute of Hydrology, Meteorology and Environmental Studies say the impacts of El Niño will be felt in Colombia until April 2024, adding to farmers’ concerns. Other scientists forecast June to August may be even hotter than 2023, and the next five years could be the hottest on record. On Jan. 24, President Gustavo Petro said he will declare wildfires a natural disaster, following an increase in forest fires that scientists attribute to the effects of El Niño.

In the face of these changes, Zenù farmers are trying to revive traditional agricultural practices like ancestral seed conservation and a unique agroecology system.

Pictured: Remberto Gil’s house is surrounded by an agroforestry system where turkeys and other animals graze under fruit trees such as maracuyá (Passiflora edulis), papaya (Carica papaya) and banana (Musa acuminata colla). Medicinal herbs like toronjil (Melissa officinalis) and tres bolas (Leonotis nepetifolia), and bushes like ají (Capsicum baccatum), yam and frijol diablito (beans) are part of the undergrowth. Image by Monica Pelliccia for Mongabay.

“Climate change is scary due to the possibility of food scarcity,” says Rodrigo Hernandez, a local authority with the Santa Isabel community. “Our ancestral seeds offer a solution as more resistant to climate change.”

Based on their experience, farmers say their ancestral seed varieties are more resistant to high temperatures compared to the imported varieties and cultivars they currently use. These ancestral varieties have adapted to the region’s ecosystem and require less water, they tell Mongabay. According to a report by local organization Grupo Semillas and development foundation SWISSAID, indigenous corn varieties like blaquito are more resistant to the heat, cariaco tolerates drought easily, and negrito is very resistant to high temperatures.

The Zenù diet still incorporates the traditional diversity of seeds, plant varieties and animals they consume, though they too are threatened by climate change: from fish recipes made from bocachico (Prochilodus magdalenae), and reptiles like the babilla or spectacled caiman (Caiman crocodilus), to different corn varieties to prepare arepas (cornmeal cakes), liquor, cheeses and soups.

“The most important challenge we have now is to save ancient species and involve new generations in ancestral practice,” says Sonia Rocha Marquez, a professor of social sciences at Sinù University in the city of Montería.

...[Despite] land scarcity, Negrete says communities are developing important projects to protect their traditional food systems. Farmers and seed custodians, like Gil, are working with the Association of Organic Agriculture and Livestock Producers (ASPROAL) and their Communitarian Seed House (Casa Comunitaria de Semillas Criollas y Nativas)...

Pictured: Remberto Gil is a seed guardian and farmer who works at the Communitarian Seed House, where the ASPROL association stores 32 seeds of rare or almost extinct species. Image by Monica Pelliccia for Mongabay.

Located near Gil’s house, the seed bank hosts a rainbow of 12 corn varieties, from glistening black to blue to light pink to purple and even white. There are also jars of seeds for local varieties of beans, eggplants, pumpkins and aromatic herbs, some stored in refrigerators. All are ancient varieties shared between local families.

Outside the seed bank is a terrace where chickens and turkeys graze under an agroforestry system for farmers to emulate: local varieties of passion fruit, papaya and banana trees grow above bushes of ají peppers and beans. Traditional medicinal herbs like toronjil or lemon balm (Melissa officinalis) form part of the undergrowth.

Today, 25 families are involved in sharing, storing and commercializing the seeds of 32 rare or almost-extinct varieties.

“When I was a kid, my father brought me to the farm to participate in recovering the land,” says Nilvadys Arrieta, 56, a farmer member of ASPROAL. “Now, I still act with the same collective thinking that moves what we are doing.”

“Working together helps us to save, share more seeds, and sell at fair price [while] avoiding intermediaries and increasing families’ incomes,” Gil says. “Last year, we sold 8 million seeds to organic restaurants in Bogotà and Medellín.”

So far, the 80% of the farmers families living in the Zenù reserve participate in both the agroecology and seed revival projects, he adds."

-via Mongabay, February 6, 2024

[cognitivejustice]

'ensure we can unmake everything we make'

New Zealand ensures maturanga Maori, the indigneous knowledge system of their lands, is incorporated into their circular economy transitions

Why transition to the circular economy?

Growing international research and evidence shows numerous benefits over the traditional linear economy.

These include:

long-term cost savings

increased local job opportunities

encouragement of technical innovation

reducing the amount of harmful waste produced

reversing our impacts on climate change.

When a product’s component materials are reused rather than put in a landfill, not only is that material no longer waste but new raw materials are not required to be extracted.

[historycaxcan]

From Tribute to Communal Sovereignty: The Tarascan and Caxcan Territories in Transition

Author: Andrew Roth-Seneff, Robert V. Kemper, Julie Adkins, Laurie Weinstein Series Editor

. 

Publication Date: 2015 

. 

Summary: Overall history of the Western Indigenous Mexicans, extending from archeologist theories, impact of colonization, to contemporary Indigenous Resilience. 

. 

Application/Evaluation: Language speakers & population surveys. Indigenous Government & knowledge systems 

. 

Limitations: Scientific view with lack of Indigenous voices leading the research. 

. 

Key Point: Interdisciplinary, Western Mexico Anthropological History 

. 

Official Summery: “Although From  Tribute  to  Communal  Sovereignty  clearly  is  not inclusive  of  all  indigenous  groups,  nor  a  comprehensive  analysis  of  all  those  historical processes, nonetheless the authors provide a series of impressive studies that highlight the  dynamic  interactions  of  the  region’s  indigenous  populations. Divided  into  four parts, the first of the collection consists of some background information and a general discussion  of  the  main  theoretical  debates  included  in  the  work.  The next  three  parts address  the  historical  context  in  the  prehispanic  period,  the  impact  of  conquest  and consolidation  of  the  Spanish  colonial  system,  and  recent  case  studies  that  show  the persistence  of  indigenous  cultural  systems  in  an  interconnected  global  context.” 

. 

Journal/Periodical Name: American Indian Culture and Research Journal

Volume: 40(1) 

Language: English 

Genre: Anthology 

Start Page/Time: 1 

End Page/Time: 272 

Reading level: College Graduate 

Reading time: 6hrs 30mins 

 . 

Communities: Purhépecha, Trans Tarascan Nahua, Huichol, Wixarika, Cora, Tepehuan, Caxcan Caxcans, Cazcan, Cazcans, Caxcanes, Cazcanes, Caz’ ahmo  

Location: Patzcuaro Basin, Michoacán, Zacatecas, Jalisco, Mexico Mesoamerica Zacatecas, West-central Mexico

[wicked-witch-ofthe-east]

I love science. But also, I can clearly see how it is the western man’s explanation of explicit indigenous knowledge. ESPECIALLY in agriculture and food systems. Isn’t it quite interesting to think about how regenerative agriculture was THE way of living. We’ve strewn so far from this form of food production that now rich white women with masters degrees and inherited land get to teach others “regenerative agriculture” for profit. It irritates me that our culture (mostly white culture) needs the chemical, biological, physical, scientific proof that something works when oral traditions have been tried and true on this continent for 10,000 years. Is the scientific method a means of distraction so big ag, big pharma, big oil, and big chem can make a profit?

[dividicus]

I need more! Give me greedy ass mayan, aztec, Incan, give a database with as many native North American tribes as possible (please include a map so I can understand geographically where the f they are so I can learn the s*** that the school system never God damn taught me!), where's my indigenous Australian and New Zealand folklore? Papua New Guinea and all the Pacific islands! I want to understand all the amazing cultural significances of all the people of the great savannah, the endless Sahara and the breathtaking jungles of Africa! The fact that I can't name a single people from an entire continent simply goes to show how displaced and groups together they have been made. Please help me educate myself!

Hey, don’t cry. Free online database of Japanese folk lore

[raffaellopalandri]

Thresholds, Trials, and Transformation under Capitalism – Part 3

In the wake of symbolic devastation wrought by late capitalism, we find ourselves exiled from the architecture of becoming. Photo by Thirdman on Pexels.com The abolition of thresholds, the commodification of all life stages, and the market’s substitution of rites with simulation have not only deconstructed traditional models of maturity but left behind a cultural vacuum haunted by the…

[seilon]

if one more class forces the fucking hero's journey down my throat in one way or another im gonna fucking lose it

[turtlesandfrogs]

What I was taught growing up: Wild edible plants and animals were just so naturally abundant that the indigenous people of my area, namely western Washington state, didn't have to develop agriculture and could just easily forage/hunt for all their needs.

The first pebble in what would become a landslide: Native peoples practiced intentional fire, which kept the trees from growing over the camas praire.

The next: PNW native peoples intentionally planted and cultivated forest gardens, and we can still see the increase in biodiversity where these gardens were today.

The next: We have an oak prairie savanna ecosystem that was intentionally maintained via intentional fire (which they were banned from doing for like, 100 years and we're just now starting to do again), and this ecosystem is disappearing as Douglas firs spread, invasive species take over, and land is turned into European-style agricultural systems.

The Land Slide: Actually, the native peoples had a complex agricultural and food processing system that allowed them to meet all their needs throughout the year, including storing food for the long, wet, dark winter. They collected a wide variety of plant foods (along with the salmon, deer, and other animals they hunted), from seaweeds to roots to berries, and they also managed these food systems via not only burning, but pruning, weeding, planting, digging/tilling, selectively harvesting root crops so that smaller ones were left behind to grow and the biggest were left to reseed, and careful harvesting at particular times for each species that both ensured their perennial (!) crops would continue thriving and that harvest occurred at the best time for the best quality food. American settlers were willfully ignorant of the complex agricultural system, because being thus allowed them to claim the land wasn't being used. Native peoples were actively managing the ecosystem to produce their food, in a sustainable manner that increased biodiversity, thus benefiting not only themselves but other species as well.

So that's cool. If you want to read more, I suggest "Ancient Pathways, Ancestral Knowledge: Ethnobotany and Ecological Wisdom of Indigenous Peoples of Northwestern North America" by Nancy J. Turner

[thisisgraeme]

Te Ara Whakamārama: 4 Powerful Steps to Transformative Te Ao Māori-Inspired Development

Explore the transformative "Te Ara Whakamārama," a framework with four stages inspired by Māori wisdom. Embrace a journey of innovation from the conceptual void to the luminous world of realization and beyond. Dive into the essence of Te Ao Māori and unlo

Te Ara Whakamārama or The Pathway to Enlightenment By Conny Huaki and Graeme Smith The journey of creation, from the first seed of an idea to its full expression, is a sacred and transformative process. “Te Ara Whakamārama,” or “The Pathway to Enlightenment,” is a design and development framework that mirrors the natural progression from dusk till dawn, a symbolic representation of the journey…

[alexthebordercollie]

The Muse

Contains no graphic content

˗ˏˋ▽△𓆩⌣𓆪△▽ˎˊ˗

𓊈 19|80 𓊉

It didn't work...

Ford checked his journal again. He combed over the crude anatomical diagrams of vocal systems and the symbols that had corresponded to them. He'd already wasted his time on that stupid singing skull puzzle that turned out to be a regrettably funny joke about a black bellied plover. Funny, but a complete waste of time coming from an ancient shaman whose pictograms implied they knew the secrets of the universe.

Ford wanted the secrets of the universe, damnit, not animal puns! 

The native peoples of Gravity Falls had abandoned the valley mysteriously hundreds of years ago. Every piece of archeological evidence Ford had uncovered had only unearthed more questions. He had managed to piece together that a particular shaman had left warnings of a curse on the land and led his people away. Ford had been running around in circles solving a long-dead man's riddles. Teased with the implications of sacred knowledge, the answers to all of his questions, only to hit dead end after dead end. The shaman was mocking him.

Among the illustrations Ford would expect from the indigenous people of the region, he had uncovered a series of symbols that appeared to be a writing system. This was strange as the natives of Oregon lacked any sort of writing system prior to the influence of colonization. Eventually, evidence suggested this was not a widespread writing system, but rather a phonetic code created by the shaman to leave messages for future researchers. That said, the shaman had not made it easy to learn his code. 

Ford paced the length of the cave by lantern light, wondering if he'd misinterpreted one of the diagrams. He kept mouthing different sounds, then checking the incantation scrawled on the wall of the cave again.

If he understood the pictograms correctly, then the shaman had once made contact with a god of divine knowledge. Ford knew his Paiute wasn't as fluent as he'd hoped. Maybe something in the shaman's message was getting lost in translation?

He could hear the Paiute people mocking him. 

Ford snapped his journal shut and, in a fit of rage, reared back his foot and kicked the cave wall with as much force as he could muster, letting out a primal growl of frustration.

Stone cracked, and a wave of pain rippled through freshly bruised toes.

Ford winced and bit back a yelp. He stood there for several seconds with his foot lodged in the limestone.

"Ow..." Ford squeaked gracelessly.

The trudge back home from perhaps his most miserable, wasted expedition yet was grueling. He was positively fuming, and not just from wearing a trench coat in eighty-degree summer heat. He was not frying his brain, no matter what the judgmental clerk he bought his slacks from thought. It wasn't a sign of madness to want to prioritize storage space over comfort, and chasing the paranormal was not a product of heat stroke.

Distracted by his furry, Ford's foot slipped on one of the many damp mossy rocks leading up the lichen-covered cave.

His arms flailed as he rushed to try and catch himself on something, only to slide down the wet rocky slope on his ass.

Ford's startled shout echoed against the mountainside.

His landing was both mercifully soft and hellishly rancid.

Soft, slimy, thick. The smell made his eyes water. Ford had landed waist deep in a mound of dung. On a better day, perhaps he would be intrigued by whatever creature had managed to leave a pile of droppings large enough to encase a grown man.

This was one mystery Ford didn't have the energy to solve right now.

Ford wasn't crazy. He knew he wasn't. The world just kept playing tricks on him.

˗ˏˋ▽△𓆩⌣𓆪△▽ˎˊ˗

Ford made it home sometime around noon. He'd been up all night decoding the shaman's riddles. Despite trying to rinse himself in the river as best he could, the hot summer sun still drew the stench of failure from his clothes. 

He was exhausted and smelled like shit.

His soggy boots tracked mud through the house as he made his way to the laundry room to toss his clothes into the wash. He emptied the contents of his pockets into a basket but carried his journal with him to the bathroom to shower. He didn't write in it every day. Sometimes he went weeks, or occasionally months, of repetitive scientific observation and data analysis between discoveries. Despite this, he always liked to keep his current journal with him wherever he went in case he stumbled upon some new fascination by chance. Occasionally, he'd find himself musing more personally in the pages.

This was not one of those days. 

Ford would rather die than acknowledge, even to himself, the humiliation of trudging home reeking of monster droppings.

He changed into a pair of jeans and an old yellow shirt and stepped out into an empty hallway. 

The buzz of disappointment was still present, but the quiet, dusty house gave him pause. Once the sound of the plumbing died down, he was met with silence. 

Was the house always this empty? 

Ford had commissioned its construction. He added so many rooms to fill with research and equipment, Most of which were barely used.

Ford was alone. 

He had nothing and no one to direct his anger at. No one but himself...

Ford drummed his fingers on his journal before turning on his heels and heading for the stairs. He needed fresh air and sunlight. Surely that sinking feeling in his gut was merely a vitamin D deficiency. 

˗ˏˋ▽△𓆩⌣𓆪△▽ˎˊ˗

Ford had no particular goal once he made it outside. He picked a direction at random and started walking, hugging his journal to his chest. The weight and pressure eased some of the tension. The thick leather binding felt soothing under his fingertips.

Ford was exhausted. He didn't realize he was exhausted until he'd been walking for some time. How long? He didn't know. A while. 

Ford passed a footpath that led down into the town. He could see the convenience store from here. His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten since yesterday. He'd been so caught up last night on what he's been so confident was the verge of a breakthrough that he hadn't given any consideration to food or sleep. 

His fridge was empty. He tried to think of something he could eat when he got home, but he knew he was running out of basic necessities. 

Two months ago, he had attempted an interview with the elders at the Burns Paiute reservation. He'd been laughed off the premises. Ford hadn't spoken to another human since. He'd specifically been avoiding humans. He was running out of food. He needed groceries, grocery stores had cashiers and customers, all of whom were typically human. 

Ford hugged his journal to his stomach. He needed to eat. 

Ford kept walking, he went deeper into the woods, into a stretch of birch trees that was usually rich in cantharellus this time of year. 

˗ˏˋ▽△𓆩⌣𓆪△▽ˎˊ˗

It didn't take Ford long to find a patch of ripe mushrooms. He sat down in the grass to munch away at them. This species had a faintly fruity smell and a sweet taste to them. They didn't do much for his hunger, just enough to settle his grumbling stomach for now. 

Ford looked around the woods as he ate. The forest was nice, comfortable. There was always noise in the woods. The chirps of birds and the skittering of small mammals. The rustle of the wind in the trees.

Ford could almost swear he could feel the world breathing all around him. 

Humans may have been a miserable, mean-spirited species, but they were far from his only option for company. Out here, Ford was surrounded by life. 

If nothing else, the mushrooms would always be here, even if no one else wanted him.

Ford absentmindedly finished off the last of the decent mushrooms in the patch he found. He looked around a moment for any he might have missed. When he found himself out of snacks, he flopped back against the nearest birch tree with a sigh. He picked up his journal and flipped it open to his entry from last night, where he'd transcribed the summoning spell. He let his pen hover over the page for a moment, contemplating scribbling it out completely. 

The incantation didn't work. 

Perhaps there was no being of infinite knowledge. He'd just been strung along on another wild goose chase, tricked for the amusement of some ancient shaman. The man never had the chance to meet Ford, and even he was laughing at him from beyond the grave.

Ford's pen hit the page and made a loud ripping, scratching sound as he swiftly dragged it across the paper. He stared at the crossed-out incantation.  

Ford's eyes were heavy. They burned. He wanted to be angry, to be outraged, offended. He wanted to feel righteous fury for having been toyed with. 

Instead, he just felt stupid and small.

Ford closed the journal and folded it over his chest. He closed his eyes and let the weight drag him down. He felt the world slow. The breeze settled, the sounds of wildlife went quiet, even the thump of Ford's own heartbeat gave way to the quiet stillness. He could feel dozens of eyes on him.

˗ˏˋ▽△𓆩👁𓆪△▽ˎˊ˗

The dream was weightless. A rich blue celestial void stretched out before him, filled with artifacts of his research. 

Ford took a few steps through the void. His feet echoed on nothing. He recognized a drawing from his journals on a sheet of paper too long to have come from a journal. He plucked it from the void only to realize he had no recollection of the object described. Despite this, he could swear the drawing was his, the handwriting was his. No matter how hard he squinted, he couldn't make out the words.

A heavy angular shadow cast over the page.

Ford turned to see the source of the obstruction of light and was greeted by a peculiar creature. At first, he didn't quite recognize it as a creature, a yellow floating triangle with an eye at its center. The top hat, bowtie, and rubber house limbs were only drawn into focus when waved to him.

"Hiya smart guy!" 

Ford squinted up at the creature only for it to vanish and reappear in his peripheral vision. Ford jumped and looked back over his shoulder.

The creature swirled around Ford's head in perfect orbit. "Woah, don't have a heart attack, you're not 92 yet."

Don't have a... Did this creature just predict the time and cause of his death?

The entity didn't look any less strange up close. A queer little thing, maybe cute even. It glowed faintly. Something about its wide, curious gaze was strangely captivating. 

"Who are you?"

"Name's Bill," he greeted with a tip of his hat. At least Ford thought it was a he with a name and a voice like that. His voice had an echoey, almost mechanical quality to it. 

"And you're Stanford Pines, the man who changed the world, but I'm getting ahead of ourselves," Bill waved off the implications of his momentous statement and warped the surreal landscape around them. "Let's relax. Care for a game of interdimensional chess?"

An invisible force divorced Ford from gravity before dropping him down in a cushioned seat that manifested below him. Laid out before him now was a glowing blue chess set. 

"Have a cup of tea," the creature offered. A blue tea set manifested at his prompting and poured Ford a glass.

Ford tentatively reached out and took the floating glass. He felt the weight of the cup and saucer in his hand, but the string of the teabag still floated aimlessly as if in space.

The little gold creature made himself comfortable across from Ford in his own tiny chair. With a wave of his finger, a piece moved across the board. 

A knight.

The entity was playing black, curious. Of course, it was possible this strange new anomaly wasn't particularly familiar with the rules of chess. Ford wondered...

He was watching. 

Ford waved his teacup aside and let the ambiguous gravity take it. He moved his queen to the center of the board and paused. He let his hand hover over her as he looked to the creature to see if he would correct him. 

The entity observed the move. 

He lazily flicked a pawn forward across the table and closed his eye, reclining back contentedly in his seat. 

Ford smiled. The entity was playing games with him. For once, Ford felt confident he understood the unspoken rules as he moved a rook.

It was just like playing with his brother as a child. Back before either knew the rules, back before there were rules. There was something playful, impish, to it.

This creature knew the rules. He chose not to play by them.

"The incantation worked," Ford marveled breathlessly as he waited for this fascinating, all-knowing anomaly to move another piece.

Bill made a tongue-clicking sound, seemingly without a mouth, and pointed a finger gun at Ford. "Look at you, IQ. Nothing gets past that big brain of yours, does it?"

Ford laughed and brushed the compliment aside with a wave of his hand. "Pshhh, it's hardly an impressive deduction." Despite the modesty of the statement, he felt a faint blush on his cheeks. He hoped it wasn't noticeable. "Honestly, I'm just surprised it worked." Ford brushed his hair back with his hand and stared down at the nonsensical game in front of him. 

"How come?" The entity moved another piece.

Ford struggled to register which one. 

It actually worked. The shaman spell worked. He was speaking to a god of infinite knowledge! Ford's head was spinning. His vision doubled. He was sat at the precipice of his life's work. The board was a million miles away.

"I-I don't know... I guess I've just," Ford paused and moved a piece. It didn't matter which one. "I've had a run of bad luck lately, that's all."

"Hey, it's not your fault you're surrounded by idiots." 

Ford looked up at the entity. He wasn't looking at him. He was eyeing the board, contemplating his next move. 

"You, uhm... You know w-who I am..."

The entity looked up. His eye curled up in a coy smile. "Of course, I know who you are. I'm your new muse." He moved another pawn.

"My muse?" Ford looked back at the board. His vision focused. Ford's buzzing nerves and racing thoughts seemed to calm. He saw an opportunity to remove a piece from the board and took it. He clicked his piece down and plucked up the black knight. He turned it over in his hand.

The muse chuckled. "Nice play." 

"Thanks." Ford ran his thumb over the contours of the small horse. It didn't feel like wood or plastic. Whatever it was, it was a texture he didn't have the words for. 

"The shaman's account described you as a god of knowledge..."

"Yeah, a muse," the entity confirmed. A long black limb stretched over the board, and a tiny hand ruffled Ford's hair.

Ford was stunned for a moment by the sudden gesture. "R-Right, you just said that-"

The muse laughed and recoiled. He picked his teacup from the void beside him and swirled the liquid around lazily. "I've got a soft spot for you, meet bag humans. Every now and again, I pick out the best and the brightest from the herd to-" The muse rolled his wrist as he chose his words. "Ya'know, give 'em a little boost." With a flick of his fingers, another piece moved across the board.

Ford watched the board. His mind felt clear, calm. The nonsense rules of the game felt like intuition. He didn't know how he knew this game of not-quite-chess, but he did. He took another piece from the board and held it up in front of his new muse with a grin.

"So you chose me? Out of everyone else on earth?"

"I mean if you've got some other genius in mind to make history, then I'm open to suggestions," the muse teased.

Ford waved his hands. "Oh no! No, no, I promise I won't disappoint." 

The muse laughed again. He had a slightly stilted way of laughing, but the jingly quality of his voice was charming. "Oh. I know you won't."

Ford's smile widened. He was practically beaming. Maybe he could have tried to contain the joy on his face better, but he couldn't bring himself to care how silly he looked. He patted his knees excitedly. "O-of course you do. You know everything, don't you?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets, kid." Bill moved another piece. "But yeah, I know a thing or two."

Ford laughed and covered his mouth to try and contain himself. Ok, ok, play it cool. He took a deep breath to try and calm himself. His muse was waiting patiently while he collected himself.

This was incredible, unbelievable, this... this was a dream...

A nagging fear clawed at him.

"Bill... can I call you Bill?"

"You can call me anything except late for dinner," Bill laughed. "That’s a joke because I don’t have a mouth." Bill splashed his teacup into his open eyeball for emphasis. 

Ford wheezed in amusement. Real or imaginary, Bill's was a strange, silly little creature. Hardly the weirdest thing Ford had uncovered in Gravity Falls, but certainly the most intriguing.

"Are you… real?" Ford paused. The question felt almost offensive, but like the obvious one to ask. He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Or just an isolation-induced hallucination? Should I finally do what my college guidance counselor always said and…" Ford groaned reluctantly. "Seek therapy?" he air quoted.

Ford wanted to believe this was real. He wanted to believe it so bad it hurt. He wanted to believe he hadn't wasted all his time. That he was more than a local laughing stock. That he wasn't crazy...

Ford has been dragged to his guidance counselor's office more times than he cared to admit. The smell of man's cheap cologne was still burned into his memory. He was always a good student, but he didn't take personal insult or injustice lying down. So what if he did cut that teacher's breaks? They survived. Ford knew he wasn't crazy. A crazy person would have gotten caught.  

"Sure, take life advice from a guy who sleeps in his office at Backupsmore. Like most teachers, he was just intimidated by your talent and was trying to curb it to feel less insecure about his own failings." Bill leaned back and laced his hands behind his 'head'. As much as a triangle could meaningfully be said to have a head.

"My talent?" Ford's voice escaped him softer than intended. Meek, hesitant. He watched Bill intently, desperate. Good God, he wanted to believe.

"Ding, ding ding!" Bill trilled, flashing brightly with each ring of his voice. He pointed a finger back at Ford. "Guys as smart as you come along once every other century, and they scare the pants off authority figures! Trust me, I’ve met 'em all!"

Ford felt like his chest would burst. He reached up a hand and nudged his glasses aside a moment to rub his eye. He wasn't the problem. He knew he wasn't the problem. He always knew.

Bill smiled back at him. "I see you on the cover of every magazine one day, but only if you make the right chess moves in the game of life, slick. Can I call you slick?"

Ford choked on his own laughter. An overwhelming wave of relief washed over him like nothing he'd ever felt. "You can call me anything except late for dinner," he teased. He joked as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if this was where he was always meant to be. He knew Bill had to be telling the truth because nothing could ever feel so true. A truth he'd desperately waited his whole life to hear. 

Bill had to be real.

"Ha! You catch on quick! I think I’m starting to like you, Sixer!"

"I think I’m starting to like you, Bill." Ford moved another piece across the board. He took a deep breath to steady a tremor in his hands. 

Sensibly, logically, he had no proof. If this was just a dream, it was a very good dream. Ford decided to let himself believe it for now, to let himself enjoy this moment of victory while it lasted. The real world could sit and spin for all he cared. 

"By the way, that A- you got in 3rd grade? Totally unfair."

"Oh my god, right? Thank you! I maintain it was a-"

"Perfectly legitimate use of an Oxford comma!"

"Jynx! Wow! Get outta my head!" Bill flushed pink and waved a limp wrist in Ford's direction.

"You first."

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - January 15-21

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles!

1. Landmark debt swap to protect Indonesia’s coral reefs

“The government of Indonesia announced this week a deal to redirect more than US$ 35 million it owes to the United States into the conservation of coral reefs in the most biodiverse ocean area on Earth.”

2. [FWS] Provides Over $1.3 Billion to Support Fish and Wildlife Conservation and Outdoor Access

“Through these combined funds, agencies have supported monitoring and management of over 500 species of wild mammals and birds, annual stocking of over 1 billion fish, operations of fish and wildlife disease laboratories around the country, and provided hunter and aquatic education to millions of students.”

3. Philippine Indigenous communities restore a mountain forest to prevent urban flooding

“Indigenous knowledge systems and practices are considered in the project design, and its leaders and members have been involved throughout the process, from agreeing to participate to identifying suitable land and selecting plant species that naturally grow in the area.”

4. Responsible Offshore Wind Development is a Clear Win for Birds, the U.S. Economy, and our Climate

“[T]he total feasible offshore wind capacity along U.S. coasts is more than three times the total electricity generated nationwide in 2023. […] Proven strategies, such as reducing visible lights on turbines and using perching deterrents on turbines, have been effective in addressing bird impacts.”

5. Illinois awards $100M for electric truck charging corridor, Tesla to get $40M

“The project will facilitate the construction of 345 electric truck charging ports and pull-through truck charging stalls across 14 sites throughout Illinois[…. E]lectrifying [the 30,000 daily long-haul] trucks would make a huge impact in the public health and quality of life along the heavily populated roadways.”

6. Reinventing the South Florida seawall to help marine life, buffer rising seas

“[The new seawall] features raised areas inspired by mangrove roots that are intended to both provide nooks and crannies for fish and crabs and other marine creatures and also better absorb some of the impact from waves and storm surges.”

7. Long Beach Commits to 100% All-Electric Garbage Trucks

“[Diesel garbage trucks] produce around a quarter of all diesel pollution in California and contribute to 1,400 premature deaths every year. Electric options, on the other hand, are quieter than their diesel counterparts and produce zero tailpipe emissions.”

8. ‘This Is a Victory': Biden Affirms ERA Has Been 'Ratified' and Law of the Land

“President Joe Biden on Friday announced his administration's official opinion that the amendment is ratified and its protections against sex-based discrimination are enshrined in the U.S. Constitution.”

9. A Little-Known Clean Energy Solution Could Soon Reach ‘Liftoff’

“Ground source heat pumps could heat and cool the equivalent of 7 million homes by 2035—up from just over 1 million today[…. G]eothermal energy is generally considered to be more popular among Republicans than other forms of clean energy, such as wind and solar.”

10. Researchers combine citizens' help and cutting-edge tech to track biodiversity

“Researchers in the project, which runs from 2022 to 2026, are experimenting with tools like drones, cameras and sensors to collect detailed data on different species, [… and] Observation.org, a global biodiversity platform where people submit pictures of animals and plants, helping to identify and monitor them.”

January 8-14 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[cognitivejustice]

As the General Coordinator of La Via Campesina International, Morgan Ody works for the human rights of peasants and rural workers worldwide, promoting food sovereignty and agrarian reform.

La Via Campesina International, founded in 1993, is committed to defending peasant agriculture for food sovereignty and is called the ‘global voice of peasants.’ Morgan Ody, a vegetable farmer in Brittany, France, is the movement’s General Coordinator. Justice is a keyword within the work of the movement, as Ody explains:

“Most peasants and rural farm workers have come together because they face discrimination and lack of access to basic services and human rights. Struggling for justice is a significant reason peasant organizations like La Via Campesina were formed.”

Agroecology and Collaboration

At Terra Madre, Morgan Ody will represent La Via Campesina International at the conference Agroecology. To Ody, agroecology is more than agricultural practices.

“Agroecology is not only a set of agriculture practices; it is a complete change in the mindset compared to the mindset of the new capitalist world system, established in the 16th century, which was very much based on a vision to dominate and extract nature, seeing nature as a machine for humans to dominate.”

La Via Campesina International and Ody demand greater equality between human society and other living beings. Ody highlights the difference between industrial agriculture and peasant practices, pointing out, for example, the relation to animals.

“How peasants work with animals involves a sort of friendship in daily life, taking into consideration the animals’ emotions. This differs greatly from industrial agriculture, where animals are seen as machines, and there is no relationship between farmer and animal.”

[pencildragons]

thinking about how gideon understands wake's conversation with john so she must have been speaking her oppressor's language to her oppressor. thinking about how wake's full name is italicised, a literary convention indicative of foreign words. thinking about whether wake even knows the meaning of her name at all or if it is just about keeping it alive at this point. thinking about if she knows any of the destroyed languages of the planet that her ancestors escaped ten thousand years ago before they were erased entirely. thinking about wake and how two thirds of her name is derived from anglo/western culture just so the devastating impact on indigenous people of the erasure of their traditional knowledge and culture could be contextualised in a way muir's (predominantly) white, anglo/western audience could understand. thinking about wake and how she was angry enough at the imperial systems of power she spent her whole life fighting against to exist as a ghost for twenty years after the fact of her death. thinking about how all augustine offers her efforts twenty years after the fact of her death is belittlement of her people and a toast. thinking about [a giant shephard's crook emerges from the wings and yanks me sidestage]