I've just returned from some time in Norway, where each day's circumstance and aesthetic supported good thinking.
of course, "good thinking" can mean many things. in the past, I may have meant thinking that was especially purpose-oriented, yielding clear notions of what to do next in life. at times I've assumed that my thinking must be purely verbal, and anything less was nearly primitive and underdeveloped.
but I have wavered between regarding high-quality thinking as being that of the rational, Western, precise sort and that which seems more fitting of the Noble Savage: instinctual, unconscious, nonverbal and yet robust. thus is how I have framed the continuum so far; hence, it's no wonder that I would have trouble deciding on one or the other. why should I settle on extreme or the other if both are, at different times, appropriate and essential?
upon recollection, the sort of thoughts I had in Norway fit neither of the above descriptions. being too young to drive our rented car, I was perpetually the passenger as we ticked along the countryside. finally, my wound-up mind could uncoil over the ochre, green, and gray of the landscape as we drove through (and, in our better times, explored) the endless countryside. I think people call this "taking it all in."
there was little pushing or pulling of my thoughts. they were commonly lazy, drifting, expansive--but most of all, responsive to my inner needs. at one moment I might be silently and sensitively impressed by the shape of the land, letting it sink into my bones. in the next moment I might be working quite diligently through a cognitive conundrum, asking and answering actual questions of myself.
I wasn't searching hard for anything too profound. except for one moment when I climbed pretty far up into a tree situated next to a very mighty river rushing down from melting lakes atop the big mountains that rose up all around me. when I arrived at the top of the tree I noted that this is the sort of place where people have important, profound thoughts. hurry up and think of something profound, I urged myself. then I acknowledged that merely being there was special and to be highly prized. having ceased to bully myself into arriving at any concrete new notions, and thereby permitting myself to savor the place, a new insight alighted on my mind like a little petal waiting so long to land. it didn't radically alter my outlook, but it was good to have and to revisit (for now, I'll keep it private).
recent experiences like these indicate to me the importance of allowing my mind to settle into where it needs to be. I've resisted this truth because it strikes me as self-indulgent and lacking intention--the "be here now" mantra that, when misunderstood, can justify a lack of disciplined planning or responsiveness to the state of one's self or the greater world.
but more lately I'm coming around to the idea that forcing the mind to either of the extremes as I earlier described is no more useful or appropriate than lolling about in a hedonic immersion in the here and now. I shouldn't be shoving aside exceptional mind-body experiences, the sort that resist immediate verbal interpretation, in favor of something tame and controlled through language. because there is meaning there, and something to be learned and unpacked, in time. nor should I resist moments of absolute verbal clarity, or avoid narrating my movements or describing my mindscape, if it comes naturally. to each instance, the required mindset must be granted, or I'll gain little.
there are two things to be acknowledged about embracing this sort of metric of appropriateness for my thoughts. one is that while it requires conceding to a more instinctual part of the self it is nonetheless a highly pragmatic approach. because all I'm really concluding is that the best way to think is the way that is the best. framed this way the conclusion seems circular, but all this really means is how to think depends on the circumstances. the tool required depends on the outcome desired.
the second is that this new approach (new to me--long obvious to many, maybe most) has been developed through exposure to the conservation biologist Peter Kareiva. he works in The Nature Conservancy and seems to be lauded for being a pragmatic realist when it comes to achieving the ecological changes our planet requires.
he gave a talk at the Long Now foundation's lecture series titled Conservation in the Real World. its content more or less fulfills the attractive title, acknowledging problems with common approaches: fear-based tactics that only alienate, and a resistance to technology that could more or less solve some problems.
but what struck me most was his assessment of the sustainable agriculture movement. I'm working from memory, as I can't locate a transcript of his talk (and it may have been in the Q&A after), but he describes a need for an outcome-based approach to evaluating the sustainability of food production and ultimately for the methods one utilizes. in other words, the only way to get past the rhetoric and mythology surrounding small/local/organic farming is to evaluate how well each enterprise scores along various critical criteria. for example, which system sequester the most carbon? which invest most in the local economy? which have to use the fewest chemical inputs? it may be that some farms score very high in some factors but surprisingly poor in others.
of course, fairly comparing farms is another matter that complicates this approach. does one compare according to acreage? that seems to miss the point. what about calories produced per acre? that too is troubled--the quality of the calorie must be considered. but the larger aim of determining the method according to the desired outcome strikes me as irresistibly practical, with potentially profound implications for farming but also applicable to many other realms. like thought. the way we should think depends on the outcomes we desire... or require. form should follow function; function should follow need.
