#Seed004: The Great Connector of Lives
A three-part series on designing healthy, resilient, and regenerative communities
This is the final publication from our three-part series on designing healthy, resilient, and regenerative communities. In this series, I explore permaculture principles in light of community design and facilitation. If you haven’t done so yet, I invite you to read the first installment #Seed002: Why People Need Soil.
I began this three-part series with a quote from farmer-philosopher Wendell Berry, who eloquently spoke about soil as the great connector of our lives. It seemed fitting to reflect on this concept as we delve into the third part of our exploration on soil and communities.
In my early twenties, I experienced the loss of both my closest friend and my father within a year. These events occurred during a crucial period of my life when I was embarking on a spiritual path and cultivating an understanding of this life and the Hereafter. As I spent countless hours by the graves of my friend and father, I realized that the soil served as a profound connection to the Unseen. It truly was the "great connector of lives." Unfortunately, in modern times, we often strive to forget about death and dying, evident even in the way cemeteries are pushed to the outskirts of our cities.
I like to think that strengthening our relationship with those who have passed supports the development of our communities. We visit the pioneers of our community, sharing their stories, and inviting them back into our lives through prayer. Isn't this how we design communities that are truly regenerative?
I’ll continue to dive into the final six permaculture design principles that we can apply to our community work. Regenerative design goes beyond our lifespan, acknowledging that the seeds we sow today will be enjoyed by those who come tomorrow. It is about utilizing soil as the great connector of lives.
Design from patterns to details
One realization that struck me when I began studying permaculture was the importance of consistent observation. I developed a practice in my backyard where I would sit in the same spot every morning, sipping my coffee. I witnessed cardinals courting each other in the spring, squirrels chasing each other up and down our giant pine tree, and hidden songbirds calling to one another. I noticed the regular raccoon that hung around the compost bin and the sneaky skunk rustling in the cedar hedge. Over the years, this place became familiar, and that familiarity guided me in designing my garden.
In his book A Sand County Almanac, the esteemed conservationist Aldo Leopold shared beautifully his observation of the patterns of nature. He wrote:
This song of the waters is audible to every ear, but there is other music in these hills, by no means audible to all. To hear even a few notes of it you must first live here for a long time, and you must know the speech of hills and rivers. Then on a still night, when the campfire is low and the Pleiades have climbed over rimrocks, sit quietly and listen for a wolf to howl, and think hard of everything you have seen and tried to understand. Then you may hear it—a vast pulsing harmony—its score inscribed on a thousand hills, its notes the lives and deaths of plants and animals, its rhythms spanning the seconds and the centuries.
Leopold provides two hints on how to observe patterns: "Live here for a long time" and "know the speech of hills and rivers." It is through consistent presence and active observation that we participate in rhythms greater than ourselves. As community facilitators, our role is to encourage existing patterns rather than force the impossible. We do this by asking questions instead of assuming answers, by getting to know people instead of stereotyping them, and by engaging with them face-to-face.
Integrate rather than segregate
Once we start observing those patterns, we begin to integrate them into our community. Through patterns, we understand our community in all its strengths and weaknesses, in all its beauty and ugliness, in all its successes and failures. In permaculture, integration means finding connections between things and looking at them as they are, rather than as we think they should be. For example, consider the issue of pests in a garden. While pesticides are a common solution to isolate and eliminate the problem, this approach often leads to more issues. However, by understanding that pests can serve as a food source for birds, a gardener may decide to introduce chickens to curb the infestation. This not only solves the problem but also enriches the soil with nutrients and provides eggs.
Resilient and regenerative communities are those that integrate all their members, recognizing the meaningful role each person and group plays. Unfortunately, modern societies have often segregated the elderly and the young, creating a void in the preservation of wisdom, tradition, and history. By establishing environments where different generations can gather, knowledge can be exchanged and transferred, leading to more vibrant and resilient communities.
Use small and slow solutions
In part one of this series, I discussed the concept of solutioneering and our obsession with finding immediate solutions to problems. However, these quick fixes often result in more complications. Just as neglected land requires years of small interventions to regenerate, a community's growth takes generations. Understanding this perspective helps us realize that impact is not immediate, and solutions must consider future generations. I draw inspiration from our indigenous hosts, who remind us that we are both the inheritors of the past seven generations and the ancestors of the next seven. It is within this timeframe that we work.
Gardening provides valuable insights into this principle. Toby Hemenway, the late permaculturalist and author of Gaia’s Garden, suggests that a garden should consist of approximately 70-80% perennials and 20% annuals. Perennials take time to grow, but once established, they become stronger and more resilient. Think of a fruit tree that may not yield fruit for the first few years, but with proper care, it can provide a harvest that extends beyond our own lifetime.
Facilitators say this a lot but we have to trust the process. Often when I facilitate community conversations and workshops, I need to actively resist the temptation that all problems will be solved at this instant. Instead, I try to look at what is happening at a deeper level. Are connections being made that weren’t otherwise there? Are new ideas and new possibilities emerging from conversations? Are the right questions being asked? With these kinds of questions, we can start to apply small and slow solutions to grand problems.
Use and value diversity
Monocultures in agriculture are vulnerable to pests and diseases. However, diverse crops are resistant to external threats. One pest may affect a part but never the whole. This goes for communities as well. But diversity goes beyond political dimensions, which categorize people into boxes. Our aim is not to reduce individuals to stereotypes but to cultivate communities that embrace different people who share a common story and place. Communities provide the fertile ground where culture is shared and inherited, allowing each person to express the Good, the True, and the Beautiful in their unique ways. To practice this design principle, we must consider how communities support the growth and development of their members in order to thrive in the face of adversity.
Use edges and value the marginal
As I began grouse hunting, my interest in birds grew, and I discovered that the wild reveals itself in the edges of time and space. When hiking, pay attention to the places where fields meet forests, and return there at dawn or dusk—you will witness wildlife thriving in these edges. Edges are the most productive elements of any ecosystem.
We can apply this design principle to our communities by investing in people who cultivate social capital and can connect beyond the boundaries of a community. While boundaries are important, those who reside at the edges often offer valuable feedback, provide diverse perspectives, and generate fresh ideas. They may not always be present at consultations or participate in surveys, but working with them and engaging them can profoundly impact a community's resiliency.
Creatively use and respond to change
Change is inevitable. Through the years, I've learned that regularly tending to things—whether they are plants and gardens or friendships and relationships—makes them more resilient in the face of change. A well-rooted community comes together consistently, celebrating, loving, mourning, and crying together. It is through these shared experiences that communities bend but don’t break. My dear friend and mentor, Shaykh Hamdi Ben Aissa, wrote an article during his trip to Guadaloupe, highlighting the spiritual significance of storm-ridden trees. He reflects:
Their roots had been so deep and so strong at the time of the storm, that they were not affected at all by the storm. That part of the tree held on, gripping to its inner reality, buried deep in the unseen, and had not relinquished its connection to the life source. And due to that depth of connection, life had continued to course through the tree.
Some of those trees had grown limbs that looked almost like legs and arms, holding them up off the ground, as they sought a way to reach upward again. God be Glorified!
This exemplifies what happens when communities creatively use and respond to change. Instead of succumbing to despair, they find ways to uplift and renew themselves.
Regenerative communities are those that transcend our individual lifetimes. They provide an ecosystem for educating our youth, caring for our elderly, celebrating our lives, and mourning our deaths. Although I have discussed "design" as if communities can be engineered, the reality is that they are beyond mere engineering. Our role is to create environments that foster the growth of community members. In closing, I offer this Quranic prayer, seeking God's assistance and facilitation:
"My Lord, open my heart and ease my mission.
Untie the knot in my tongue so that others may understand me."
Drawing Inspiration
Every week, I share books, podcasts, films, and other resources that will support your journey as a community facilitator and builder.
Poetry
I think it is fitting to share this poem by Amir Suleiman titled “You will be someone’s ancestor. Act accordingly.”
“We all want a long life
But the cost is the longer our life the more often
We will have to see our loved ones lay in their coffins
This is not to darken our spirits
Rather to harken to a life worth living
For our children
For our children's children”