“Each evening at the kung fu academy a ‘dizi’ – which is a traditional Chinese bamboo flute – would fill the crisp, cold night air outside of my window. The ethereal and whimsical sound stirred in me a hopefulness which could not be thought, only felt.
This simple but evasive act of not thinking but feeling was the thread which ran through the academy’s syllabus. Classes in energy practices that wind back millennia, all the way to the roots of Taoism, the ancient philosophy which underpins the academy, and indeed the region surrounding the mystical Wudang Mountain.
Weave your way to the tips of these roots and there you will find a reverence for the wisdom of the earth. For a mother, a maker, a shaper, and regenerator greater than even our relatively large brains can comprehend.
From this same reverence came Chinese Medicine, where the rhythm of the natural world is understood to be the rhythm of a healthy life. Unlike in the West, this holistic, preventative system sees the body, mind, emotions, and environment as an inter-related exchange.
As a boy who grew up on a farm, this lens makes sense to me. During my childhood I understood instinctively but unconsciously that we are seasonal beings. That you could view the season in a field – the introspection of winter, or the vitality of spring – and know it also in your body.
By this equation, if we pollute the land, we pollute the body. If we steal from the soil, we thieve from the soul. Yet, the current pervading system is parasitic, and it is no longer serving us. ‘Us’ being humans and the natural world. That single entity.
So, together with my Dad we are experimenting with moving to a more mutualistic system. Doing so first on a single field on our family farm.
In this movement backwards towards farming – done with plenty of naivety but great certainty – it occurred to me that my own hazardous experience of learning to genuinely nourish – and listen to – my body, was a mirror onto the needs of the land.
My chosen means of swiftest relief, and greatest impulse include scrolling, drinking, eating, working, flirting, consuming, running, or bingeing. Each, to differing degrees, disconnecting and damaging for my planet within. While for the farm this same list might include, fertilisers, pesticides, monocoltures, giant fields, heavy machinery, tilling, ploughing, over-irrigation, crop residue removal, and livestock overpopulation. Each a bandaid, not a cure. A force against, not with.
Thankfully the system change required on our farm is evolution rather than revolution. For a generation now measures such as ‘min tilling’ – minimising soil disturbance during planting and cultivation – crop rotation, and fallow periods have been in place. It means our patient – the soil – is critical rather than terminal. We are starting a little nearer the hospital exit.
We received a government grant for a herbal lay – a biodiversity-rich grass mix – that will rest the soil, and fix the nitrogen, across the next three years. Alongside this, further fiddly grants have been secured for two strips, one ‘conservation headland’ and the other of wild flowers, offering nourishment to birds, insects, and other grateful wild life.
Like with the human world – although all too many forget it – the soil is enriched by diversity. More than 30 species and counting now line the field – a handful of which mark my body in this artwork – each bringing their own gifts to life above and below the flints.
Exactly how many harvests we have left before British soil can no longer support life is hotly debated. But what is not disagreed upon is that that day is coming. So, this cross-generational beginning – from a father and son – is a nod to all who follow, to say that we see them, and we are working for them.
It is, after all, their field.”
To learn more about Simon and his nature-connected practices, visit his website – and be sure to sign up to his monthly newsletter!