I grew up at the foot of Kanlaon mountain range, at a time when wild pigs and deer still roamed freely and are plenty and monkeys just lived at the edge of the farm. It was a time when mountain breezes blew fresh and clean, chilling the bones, free of gun smoke from warring camps. When sweet spring water gushed, wending through bamboo pipes right into the kitchen, to be enjoyed without fear of contamination.

As a child, I thought l had everything. My father was an ace hunter, a man who knew the forests like the palm of his hand and respected jungle laws. Food was abundant. The land yielded its fruits, the forest its wild treasures. Pandanon and Talus rivers stored fat eels, big fresh water shrimps and a small fish called bunog which when wrapped in salty batuan leaves, inserted in a foot-long bamboo node and cooked in an open fire was extremely delicious. I could still savor it from memory.

Chickens ran around unhampered and native eggs can be poached from right in the kitchen where baskets hang on walls for hens to hatch. I never saw milk in cans until we moved to the town later. I thought it had no other source but a nanny goat, a cow or carabao. And it had always this thick, yellowish top cream that I scooped with my fingers, licked with my tongue as I rolled my eyes to heaven.

Banana bunches seemed to be always hanging about in different stages of ripening. Why, I could stick my hand out in the dark while already in bed and enjoy one when everyone else thought I was asleep.

I was young and nature seemed kinder then. Not anymore. Half a century of relentless logging, the unstoppable advance of settlers towards watersheds, of slash-and-burn farmers, poachers, illegal loggers, the adventurers and rebels and now on-going bush war plus the natural vagaries of nature itself have rendered the environment hostile to humans. Our suffering is now made much more intense.

Thus, an ecologically-sound lifestyle is in order. Not only because we are now seeing the terrible and ugly results of our mindlessness: floods, landslides, soil erosion, drought, pollution and other annual calamities, but also because of our Christian faith that demands due respect for God’s creation.

When God said to Adam and Eve, “I am putting you in charge of the fish, the birds and all wild animals” (Gen. 1:27) and the rest of natural wealth, he meant responsible ruler-ship, not abuse, definitely not rapacity. Our dominion of nature is not domination, not bleeding it to the point of its destruction and ours as well. I do believe that we should learn to walk this earth more softly, carefully, on tip toe, and work it more in partnership than in the spirit of colonizing masters. Colonies, as history has shown, have a way of striking back - - and how! First, I propose that we try to live simply.

Now, this does not come easy to Filipinos who are fond of the good life, of outward trappings, of pabongga. This vanity is shared by all -- the rich and the poor. For how else do we justify Ka Panyong’s behavior whose lean to hews dangerously towards the creek, yet, instead of shoring it up with stronger materials for typhoon days, buys instead a flowered linoleum mat to cover his dirt-packed floor?

The rich, of course, are worse. Their conveniences and indulgences demand more land space, more electricity, more water, more of everything else. Their desire for fatter bank books systematically destroys our seas, coral reefs, forests, soil, air and underground system. Their garbage is not only bulkier and more numerous, but more sophisticated and less biodegradable. It will still scar the earth 500 years hence.

Simplicity is not hardscrabble, scraping poverty, though realistically most of us do not have any choice. It is simply keeping to a minimum our needs in life such that the goods of this earth, more limited now than ever before, could be shared with others in just proportion. And we do not tax nature to more than its limits such that it lashes back at us. The heart’s desire of Solomon in Proverbs seems an apt and reasonable prayer even for us today. He said:

I ask you God, to let me have two things before I die: keep me from lying, and let me be neither rich nor poor. So only give me as much food as I need. If I have more, I might say that I do not need you, but if I am poor, I might steal and bring disgrace to my God.” (Proverbs 30:7-9)

We are a much hungrier nation now. Yet, we waste a lot of rice due to improper handling, from wrong harvest methods to the scattered morsels under the table when we eat. In metropolitan areas, the waste of food abounds. Watch the left-overs that eateries dump in garbage cans by the hour at the back door. I am appalled to know that some fast-food chains franchised from the West would rather throw away unsold items for the day than give them to the waiting hungry outside their classy establishments, fearful that their product may be cheapened in the eyes of their consumers.

Such thinking is devoid of social conscience and Christian charity. But one does not look for ethical sensitivity from profit-hungry businesses. Simplicity avoids wastes and therefore develops efficiency, a word quite strange to Filipino ears.

But we ought and must and should develop it on a personal and national level. Our meager resources are threatening us to extinction, yet there is a lackadaisical attitude towards most things.

The busted pipes that flood many areas in Metro Manila is a good example; so are unattended, unturned off lights in city streets and government offices at broad daylight. Pockmarked roads scrape tires to thinness prematurely. Monumental traffic jams take off workers’ productive time and cause vehicles to guzzle up more gasoline. Helter-skelter industrial planning puts factories, plants and industries at the heart of the metropolis. They pollute the air and watercourses and create industrial hazards beyond what we are able to imagine. These and a thousand more only show how far away we are from efficiency and simplicity, and hence, what people call ‘development’.

Simplicity is the ability to recognize between indulgence and need. If one has food and still wants more, has clothes but likes an aparador-full, has a house but wants it bigger, more beautiful and groaning with all sorts of gadgets, then, that becomes indulgence. Indulgence is not only harmful to the practitioner but unjust others. For in a society where goods are limited, the luxury of one is the suffering of a neighbor down the street.

God has not created humankind to indulgence, but calls us to obedience, to reflect his image, to tend the earth in loving care that it may respond to us in abundance. A Christian is asked to seek the Kingdom first and all his needs will be provided, definitely not while he sits around counting the stars, but as he does an honest work.

An environmentally healthy life takes account of free access to nature’s bounty. Our fair land is rich with abundant sunlight, comparatively clean air and still with enough trees, especially in non-urban areas. In developing housing projects we ought to seriously consider these advantages. But what usually happens? Land developers bulldoze all the trees and level off the ground to flatness to create subdivisions. The natural terrain of the place is hardly appreciated, much less respected. I remember remarkably old but beautifully crowned mango groves dotting the scene along Aguinaldo highway in Cavite some years back. I had always imagined how refreshing they would be for house owners nearby. Now very few are left standing. They have not been spared from the surgical precision of subdivision contractors whose only concern is profit and who altogether lack aesthetic sense and esteem for ecological balance. Now, one only sees rows and rows of the same type of houses clinging tightly to each other -- unbroken, monotonous and nary a canopy of shades or greens. I pity homeowners who live in such aridity and uniformity.

I have often wondered as I whisk past these places, if it is not possible to develop housing projects with character, beauty and with ecological consciousness. Life for most of us is hard and oases of beauty, natural and even contrived, help ease the relentless struggle we go through. And our house designs: it is appalling to see many Filipinos choose to have houses built exactly like the ones they saw (actual or otherwise) in Europe or the U.S.A

The influence of Western design in our structures, be they office, commercial or residential have reached the point of being ludicrous. How, for instance, could we explain houses of solid concrete but with tiny windows which are glass-paned, screened and then barricaded with iron grills? Such fortress-like contraptions are most impractical and altogether wasteful.

It shuts off much of our free sunlight. So we use more artificial lights and they have to be constantly kept turned on to enable us to see ourselves about. And the natural breeze that we enjoy on sweltering summer days has no way of penetrating these forbidding walls. Thus, electric fans whirr day and night. Or, for the rich, air-conditioning units are installed which depletes further our fast dwindling energy capability. Surely, a little tinkering with designs could greatly improve the efficient use of our natural wealth around us.

The little of nature that is still gracing our land, let us nurture with tenderness. Unless a tree dangerously impedes movement or access to your property and there is no way but to cut it down, don’t. Shave it off, redirect its course, but save it. Trees and plants, whether in the mountains unseen or overhanging our balconies, are our natural saviors and friends. They filter the air we breathe. The shade they give, the fruits they bear, the patterns they make on a landscape, their roots that grasp the soil, the water they entrap for summer use, the birds that sing on their boughs should be enough to make us stand in awe before trees -- not to worship them but to be thankful to God for having created them.

I always die a little inside every time I see a river or rivulet or sea so abused with all kinds of flotsam and jetsam of human waste. My concern for them deepened when our barrio suffered a prolonged brownout due to a strong typhoon that knocked off a number of electric posts from Imus to upland Cavite. Our barrio tank lay idle. Water was scarce, expensive and far away.

As a rivulet ricochets around our farm, Dave thought of digging a well beside it hoping we could get clean enough water for washing, watering the plants and toilet use. After six or seven feet, sure enough water trickled in clear and devoid of any suspicious smell. Soon it filled up the well and with a bottle of chlorox, to insure it is clean, we used it for the rest of two months for almost everything, save drinking. We felt we were especially blessed.

Conserve water. Put drums around the house to catch rain. MWSS is not becoming any more efficient or reliable nowadays, one never knows when waterless days or hours would come. Shut off the shower while soaping. Better use the tabo system. Flushing toilets, I read, consumes a lot of water. But that is a choice between sanitation and disaster. Perhaps, buhos would help, just do not let the water splatter all over the place.

Planting is therapeutic. It helps us to slow down, reflect, pray. Thus, getting soil dirt under our nails is not a bad idea. Plant a tree, a camote patch, a bush, toa tree, a camote patch, a bush, tomatoes, gladioli. When we stoop to the ground and smell and touch the freshness of the earth, it reminds us that we are ‘brothers and sisters; to the worms and we are just mere dust for all our posturing and grandiosity.

We are touching the very essence of our physical humanity. “To dust thou art and to dust thou shalt return”, gives us a much humbler perspective of who we are in the scheme of God. The body crumbles to dirt, yes, but the spirit lives on to stand before him to whom we give final account of our earthly deeds. Whether indeed, we have been responsible towards others and have been wise in our treatment of nature. By planting we see the drama of salvation and redemption; of life and death and resurrection; of what discipleship really means. Planting should make us better Christians and better Filipinos.

I no longer live in Negros. And I have grown mellow with the years. Yet, I still live in a farm. I have maintained a lifestyle of simplicity and harmony that does not crumble with the slightest whiff of modern-day inconveniences. If the electric lights go off, a reliable air pressured kerosene lamp comes out of the closet. If have things in the fridge, I simply cook all of them. Fresh vegetables could be had for the picking outside my window. There’s chicken meat running around and eggs. Fruits are always available according to season. If my gas tank goes empty, I have a “dirty kitchen” ready with a stack full of kakawate wood. We have covered a portion of our land with them. If the barrio water tank fails, there is the well and rainwater. I live under the canopy of a luxuriant mango, star apple and santol trees.

With clear stars above and an absolutely beautiful moon peeping at my window sill, God is much nearer. And despite everything else, life is beautiful, for it is lived with minimal consumption and respect for God’s creation.

The late Evelyn Miranda Feliciano

was a long-time resident writer for ISACC and lived in her farm in Adlas, Silang Cavite