Back in the days when I still thought it was possible to understand things, I read a philosopher named Soren Kiekegaard. He theorized that since we can't know for sure if God exists, we should base our beliefs on the consequences of making the wrong choice.
He claimed that if we chose to believe in God, and were wrong about it, no problem. On the other hand, if you lived your old bad life on the assumption that God didn't exist, the first day in the next world might not be pleasant.
Kiekegaard hasn't shaped my religious beliefs all that much. But I do find myself applying his logic elsewhere. Since the weight of evidence make climate change a very real possibility, and the consequences to it are dire, I will act upon the belief that it does exist.
There's little I can do about the social, political and economic forces driving it.
But I can do one thing: I can plant a garden. You should too. Do it.
Do it because you are remotely concerned that the San Joaquin Valley, where a third of America's produce grows, is in a state of extreme drought.
Do it because you would rather the charming two-year-old who sits in the basket of your grocery cart not say the words she might hear when you see the prices in the produce aisle. Or because the cost of meat isn't going down soon either, and you need to find room in the food budget somewhere.
Do it because you are a fan of cage-free tomatoes and free-range broccoli.
Do it because it's your garden, and if you want to pour chemicals on it, you will.
Do it because we should all become more self-sufficient. Or do it because people should be helping out, but they're not.
Do it because few things are as satisfying as eating healthy food you grew and harvested yourself.
Do it because that grey-haired person wandering around your house in a shapeless print dress with support stockings rolled down about the knees is not some intruder, but is in fact your own reflection in the mirror, and now you must plant a garden to round out the stereotype.
Do it because as much as you hate the neologism "food insecurity," you don't want it to happen to yourself or anyone you love.
Do it because a garden will cover a patch of bare dirt in your backyard. Or do it because, although you don't have a yard, plots go unclaimed in the Community Garden every year. The Community Garden phone number is 623-2333. Call and reserve your plot now.
Do it because there is evidence that contact with the bacteria in the soil is a natural antidepressant. I know I'm always happier when I'm playing in the dirt.
Do it because you can.
Do it because you remember your mother and your grandmothers canning, and because gardening and putting up food connects you to people who may no longer walk on this earth.
It doesn't matter why you do it; just do it.
I believe that in the next few years, we will be paying more money for less quality and fewer choices at the grocery store.
I may be wrong, and I hope I am. But if I apply old Soren Kierkegaard's test, the consequences of an incorrect choice will be tomatoes, squash, and watermelon, and possibly a better mood.
I can live with that. I know my friends, my family, and most of all, my students, are pinning their hopes on that better mood.
When Teresa Howell isn't trying to alter her mood, she teaches English at Great Basin College.
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