Alex Woodard
Photo Credit: Sandy Carter
I remember the first time I heard the word holistic, backstage at a self-help seminar I was speaking at. My first impression was that the word felt too new-age-ish…in other words, an ineffective lens with which to view healing. I mean, why not just take an Advil for that headache, instead of looking for some kind of systemic reason for the pain?
And so I took that proverbial Advil for years, favoring short-term solutions for long-term problems. I was a mirror to the culture I’d grown up in, which looked to the quick fix, often to the detriment of ourselves and the planet.
Which, of course, are one and the same. But not until the pandemic back in 2020 left me waiting on a repatriation flight, stuck on a tiny island, did I really start to understand how dangerous that quick-fix mentality was. No, I didn’t have a Tom Hanks Castaway moment…I did have a Zach Bush moment, though.
The on-island medic had offered to explain what this coronavirus situation was all about, and after his presentation, the conversation veered into planetary health. By then, I had an inkling that this guy’s expertise and training reached beyond the average EMT, and after pressing him on his credentials, I learned I was right. Bush was a triple-board-certified physician who’d been researching the core issues of human and planetary health.
He led with an alarming statistic from a study done a couple of years before: Farmers have the highest suicide rate of any U.S. profession, more than three times the general population.
Really?
Farmers?
He explained how this was because farmers were fighting on the frontlines of our agriculture industry, and were the first to suffer the impacts of the escalating destruction of their dirt. Decades of degrading the soil with monocropping and constant plowing had caused yields to fall, but after the first World War, farmer’s prayers were answered in the form of little nitrogen pellets made by the same factories that had made bombs. But that fertilizer made weeds grow, too. And damaging bugs loved those weeds just as much as the crops, so herbicides and pesticides, often from the same family as the agents used in warfare, came into vogue.
Exposure to that toxicity affected farmers’ health directly, and of course, that toxicity leeched into our food, impacting the public’s health. But the farmers, under the additional pressure of ever-changing government regulations and subsidies, suffered the most direct hit to their physical and mental health. This trauma has compounded over generations, and the flourishing discipline of epigenetics tells us how these kinds of environmental and behavioral factors actually change gene expressions, which in turns alters the DNA that we pass on.
Our land has suffered with us, as topsoil ions in the making has been turned to dust and washed into watersheds, polluting rivers and streams. We continue to monocrop, but a herbicide company has engineered seeds that are resistant to one of their most dangerous chemicals: glyphosate. This means farmers can spray incredibly high amounts — almost 300 million pounds a year in the U.S. —of the toxin on our food, to kill weeds and desiccate before harvest, without losing the crop.
In addition to the water contamination, glyphosate can bind to soil, and after repeated applications, can accumulate and become a source of long-term soil and groundwater contamination. It can persist in plants for years, and its breakdown product, AMPA, is also toxic. Glyphosate kills wildflowers, which are vital for pollinators, and can negatively affect aquatic organisms.
And that’s just one herbicide.
One action impacting another over time has led to the environmental and health crisis we find ourselves in now.
The issues are interconnected.
Holistic.
So, does that mean the solution would have to be holistic, too?
This was the question in the back of my mind when I approached Bush about writing a book about the impact of chemical and mechanical farming on human and planetary health. I didn’t want to write a textbook, though; I wanted to write a novel that would speak to the people least likely to hear the message: folks who wouldn’t be sitting through scientific seminars or reading the research on the health consequences of glyphosate.
Folks who just wanted a good story.
I proposed a generational tale that followed a family farming the same piece of land in the Oklahoma panhandle, going all the way back to the Choctaw patriarch’s homestead claim. The message of escalating destruction would be gurgling quietly under the traumas and triumphs of life, until the toxic gas at the source couldn’t be ignored.
And, like Bush, I’d start the book by fictionalizing that alarming farmer suicide rate: I’d have the main character attempt to kill himself in the first few paragraphs, and then build the history behind it.
Bush loved the idea, and served as the medical consultant as I embarked on this work of “faction.” It was a blending of fact and fiction that would hopefully shine a light on a simple truth: You get out what you put in, in all things — the soil, your body, your mind, relationships. And they’re all connected.
After months of research and writing, I’d answered my own question about our current environmental and public health crisis. Yes, the answer to righting the human and planetary ship was indeed holistic, which would demand the entire system change: how we farm, how we eat, how we work, how we treat each other, everything.
And as daunting as that sounds, the good news is that all these different facets feed off each other. As an example, when we make our food growing habits more sustainable for the environment, we make the food healthier for ourselves, and those impacts continue to compound.
We can do this, and I believe the best place to begin is with our own individual decisions. Where we put our dollars. What we consume. How we spend our time. What words we choose.
We all have a way to make an impact. And it’s up to each of us to determine how to start.
About the book: When a young farmer, burdened by a dark family legacy and modern-day despair, attempts to take his life beneath a rotting burial elm, he sets off a chain of events that uncovers long-buried secrets. At the center of this haunting story lies a startling revelation: The path to healing our bodies and minds may begin in the soil itself.
Watch the video about the book’s purpose here
Alex Woodard has toured nationally behind several critically acclaimed albums, earning a few prestigious industry nods while sharing the stage with some of his heroes. His “For The Sender” book, album, and concert series has garnered praise from Huffington Post (“important, enlightening, and ultimately inspiring”), Deepak Chopra (“a beautiful tribute to the resilience of the human spirit”), Dr. Wayne Dyer (“an inspiring, thought-provoking, and life-changing work”), and Billboard magazine (“one of the year’s most touching, unique releases”), among others. Alex lives with three horses, two dogs, two chickens, and two beautiful humans on a small ranch near the California coast. Find out more at www.alexwoodard.com.
PLEASE GIVE WHAT YOU CAN: PayPal.Me/clevergreensolutions
Enjoy reading Eco Voice? Please help us by purchasing a GIFT Voucher or send one to a friend and encourage people to purchase trees or seeds via The Native Shop – www.nativeshop.com.au
Plants, seeds & more delivered to your door!
