and sustainable rural economies. Resilient operations seek every avenue of conservation and restoration that is suitable for the land. Restoration of riparian areas increases forage production, increases water availability for herds, improves livestock condition, and reduces irrigation need by raising the water table. The NRCS and the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service have numerous partnerships and opportunities available to ranchers and farmers that can help achieve these goals. Conservation easements are another common path of land stewardship which may be particularly helpful for struggling operations, since the producer receives payment upfront. And finally, let it not go unmentioned that if national and local policies were aligned with resilient agriculture, ranchers and farmers would be compensated for ecological goods and services that are not typically commodified (water retention, carbon sequestration, etc.). Perhaps most importantly for resilience, producers must join coalitions and support their communities. I have never seen an operation survive in isolation without engaging in environmentally destructive management practices. Aligning policies toward a resilient agroecological system requires ranchers and farmers to form and support politically active networks (such as
the National Grazing Lands Coalition and the Rural Voices for Conservation Coalition). Consider for example how forming coalitions with neighboring producers and energy companies has allowed the Thunder Basin Grasslands Prairie Ecosystem Association to protect eight threatened species and control a variety of invasive species across 1.2 million acres, all while providing sustainable livelihoods for ranching families. Coalitions like the Quivira Coalition, Covenant Pathways, Northeast Farmers of Color, and many others across the globe have brilliantly incorporated social issues such as gender, race, socioeconomics, and access to land into the fabric of their programs. Their power lies in the collective breath of their communities. Because of the resilience of these coalitions, both producers and consumers involved have been able to remain strong throughout the pandemic, even if they have been knocked down by it.
Breathe and Rise Up!
the kiai of your fellow karateka (community) and shomen (previous masters/ancestors),” my sensei counseled. Perhaps I was being pretentious in understanding my struggle and those of the members of my community. Judging ourselves and others based on a partial snapshot in time dehumanizes all involved because it ignores our personal and collective historical struggles and blinds us to the immense strength and wisdom we can gain from the struggles of our elders and ancestors, those who have walked these paths before. Without humbling myself and testing myself in the way of my elders and ancestors, I would fail to fulfill my natural role within the interdependent chain linking me to all living beings: my breath would never be in sync with theirs, and their collective strength and wisdom would be lost on me. Four days into the gasshuku, my body had settled in the strength of my breath and the harmonious life force of my fellow karateka, and the struggle became joyous rather than painful. This is wisdom! — and interdependent, community-based self-knowledge, gained through struggle, is the seat of wisdom, the harbinger of resilience.
During my first gasshuku, the thought of quitting entered my mind many times, especially when everything hurt and I fell to the ground from sheer exhaustion. I felt weak, Do not judge me by my success, judge me by how I felt worthless, and I felt disconnected from many times I fell down and got back up again. those around me, whom I saw as stronger and — Nelson Mandela more capable — my pain wasn’t just physical. “Even if you collapse, kiai, find strength in
West Virginia Strong A resilient food system in the face of COVID-19 Story and photos by Jessi Adcock
Coal. Opioids. Poor. Forgotten. The words that first come to mind when you think of West Virginia are rarely complimentary. For decades, our economy has been based on outside companies extracting our natural resources: timber, coal, and now, natural gas. The land is often left unusable without the benefit of expensive, equipment-intensive restoration. The money is good for a while, but as the resource dries up, so do the jobs. This vicious cycle has repeated itself for generations. But that’s not what I’m writing about. Today, something amazing is happening in these mountains. Quietly, diligently, certain individuals and organizations have been working to rebuild the Appalachian economy from the ground up. They’re retraining miners and other workers who’ve been laid off as coal companies shutter their operations. They’re working with folks coming out of recovery programs, providing education and employment when many others are hesitant to do so. And they’re offering living wages to do this work, making it possible to stay in the state and still have a good quality of life. Coalfield Development is one such organization. Coalfield was started in 2010 to address housing issues in Wayne, West Virginia. Since then, it has pioneered a holistic workforce development program and grown into a family of social enterprises that includes agriculture and artisan trades, real estate development, and construction. These social enterprises have created 190 new jobs, helped place 95 workforce development alumni in full-time careers, and brought $16 million in investments to the region. I work for the agriculture-focused enterprise of Coalfield, which is called Refresh Appalachia. 36
