John Seed and the Council of All Beings Part III
Environmentalism and Spirituality
May/June 1989
By Pat Stone
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© PAT STONE
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This "town crier of the global village" tries to awaken our spiritual connection to the earth.
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THE COUNCIL OF ALL BEINGS had ended; the drumbeats echoing away like thunder, the energy and the tension leaving us. Now it was time to abandon this aweinspiring, 9,000-foot-high meadow in Montana's jagged Crazy Mountains. Time to wend our way back down to the campground and, ultimately, our homes.
The intense weekend had culminated in a ceremony in which a group of people took on the roles of other species and shared those creatures' concerns for themselves, the planet and that troublesome fellow speciesthe human. But I didn't have time to reflect on that experience just yet. Not now, when I finally had the opportunity I'd been waiting for all weekend; the chance to corner the Council's dedicated and singular leader, Australian John Seed.
Seed is probably the world's leading activist for rain-forest protection. "The town crier of the global village," the Christian Science Monitor called him. He has buried himself neck-deep in front of bulldozers to stop logging. He founded the Rainforest Information Centre (RIC), a global-action group doing everything from funding a lawyer for an endangered tribe in Sarawak to planting an "agricultural moat" around a jungle in Ecuador. Now (the summer of'88) he was roaming America, sleeping on floors and in forests' trying to awaken people's spiritual connections to the earth with a unique ceremony he had helped create.
Seed's impressive rain-forest resume had led me to expect an "ecovangelist"a solemn Cassandra of planetary doom and gloom. Instead, I found a long-maned troubadour flailing a guitar and crooning environmental ballads. A 43-year-old sprite with impish eyes and a soft voice ever quick to laugh.
Indeed, when I mentioned that I'd like my photographs to reflect his playfulness, he eagerly agreed to go jump in the creek. So as we started down the streamside trail, I soon found myself turning off my tape recorder-and taking off my clothes. (Well, how could I get close enough to shoot my skinny-dipping subject if I wasn't ready for a plunge myself?)
Like two intoxicated elves, we skipped from pool to pool, ducked into mossy nooks and swapped turns behind the camera. Then we'd drip dry, dress (he'd throw on a wraparound sarong, sandals and "Earth First!" T-shirt) and take to the trail again. I could then dutifully ask questions and record answers-until the next bend revealed another oh-so-alluring pool.
The farther downstream we went, the deeper and more intense the river became. Likewise our discussion. By trail's end, all frivolity had ceased. We abandoned our bit-and-dip mode of interviewing and sat, fixed, just above the campground. There, eloquently and passionately, John shared some of his deepest thoughts about the earth.
MOTHER: John, you've said that you used to look at trees as something for dogs to pee on. Now you'll chain yourself to them to save them. Tell me some of your story-what caused this personal turnaround?
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