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Change is Where You Are Morag Gamble describes her incredible life’s journey from Melbourne, Australia, to Europe and Ladakh, and then home to work, seeding solutions with people from all over the world Because you are here reading this, I’ve no doubt that we share a deep concern about the state of the world and the pressing challenges we face locally and globally. For a long time, the many dimensions of these crises have been the fuel that have motivated me. That, combined with my awe of Nature and love of life on this beautiful planet, is why in my twenties I chose to dive head first into a permaculture life. Recent events, connected to human impact on the planet – such as the raging bushfires that killed billions of native wildlife, to the hunger pandemic in refugee settle­ments accompanying the COVID-19 pandemic – amplify my commitment to be in planetary service through practical permaculture activism for a positive future. Where it Began My activism started as a teenager in the ’80s. I began to notice what was really going on in the world and I was horrified. I couldn’t believe we lived with the threat of nuclear war in ‘mutually assured destruction’, so I joined peace rallies and anti-nuclear organisations. I started to understand how badly things were going in our food systems when a freak dust storm made up of 100,000 tonnes of topsoil from farmland, plunged my city, Melbourne, into darkness; further from home, one million people died in Ethiopia from starvation. I was devastated by the accelerated clearing of old-growth forests near me for paper pulp, so volunteered with The Wilderness Society. At a rally I saw the banner “If you’re not looking for a solution, then you’re part of the problem.” It really hit home and challenged me to step up to do more. My blinkers had to come off. Once you’ve noticed these things, you can’t truly ‘un-notice’ them. I’m sure many of you will relate to this and have also been touched deeply by something around you that has moved you to act, and relate to what youth are feeling today. top  Liz in the ornamental garden, great for pollinators, wildlife and bringing joy main  The raised bed vegetable garden, built over a couple of years with reclaimed wood I was distressed by the realities of the world and with the raw enthusiasm of a naive teen (I was naive – not all teens), I tried to tell everyone what was going wrong and that we all needed to change – for the sake of the planet, for humanity, for the forests, for other species. I was well-intentioned, but I’m sure I was critical and judgemental. As you can imagine, friends drifted away. I learnt quickly that is not the way to help change happen! I even represented my state in the United Nations Youth Association, but still I didn’t feel heard. 4  | www.permaculture.co.uk
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‘portal’ to another way of being in the world in relationship with others. I didn’t need to be fighting against things. Instead I could be working for something and share a vision that was attractive, inviting and inclusive. After discovering this ‘new’ world of thinker-activists, I heard that Fritjof Capra was teaching at the new Schumacher College in the UK. My heart leapt at the chance of being in a residential learning community exploring these ideas. With help from my parents, a Melbourne University lecturer (who paid me upfront to come back and lecture about what I learnt), and selling anything of value, I set off. My ‘Turning Point’ I intended to stay at the college for five weeks then backpack to iconic eco-projects like the Centre for Alternative Technology, Findhorn, Windmill Hill City Farm, but I simply couldn’t return home after that. At Schumacher College I met Helena Norberg-Hodge who had just written Ancient Futures. Her sessions about the Ladakhi culture so transfixed me that I volunteered immediately to help at the Ladakh Project. It was an incredible journey to reach this Himalayan region – into the throng of Delhi, through the devastating conflict zone in Kashmir, before rising over the Zoji-La pass, one of the most dangerous mountain roads in the world. © Luisa Puccini / Shutterstock Opening a Portal I continued my search for a way to make a difference. I read voraciously and followed the references from one book to another. I discovered EF Schumacher’s Small is Beautiful, Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring, Fukuoka’s One Straw Revolution, McHarg’s Design With Nature, Capra’s The Turning Point, Morris Berman’s Re-enchantment of the World, and the early permaculture books by Mollison and Holmgren. They explored how to live differently to create an ethical and meaningful life. It was as though I ’d opened a Coming ‘Home’ There, in the remote villages of Ladakh, also known as ‘Little Tibet’, I first experienced what a sustainable society actually felt like – one that had been in existence for over 1,000 years. It was a life built on a rich fabric of connections with place and community, local resilience, cooperation, natural food and housing, an integrated pattern of work and family life, and a colourful cultural world full of music, dance, celebration and ritual. The radiating smiles, the warmth and sense of abundance were evidence that with almost no money, real wealth and happiness could be found. It felt like coming home to what it truly meant to be human. In stark contrast, Helena highlighted the impact of Western development and consumer culture on this way of being, and how being drawn into the global economy was eroding the foundations of Ladakhi culture. Volunteering in Ladakh remains one of the most transformative experiences of my life, also because of the incredible volunteers I worked with there – Gaian ecologist Stephan Harding; Vandana Shiva, the renowned Indian seed activist; and a young Zac Goldsmith. After almost a year away, I was back home in the suburbs of Melbourne with a question. What does ecological thinking and Ladakhi-style resilience look like in Western culture? It was then that permaculture came alive for me, though it had always been there. For the seed of permaculture thinking to flourish, I had to first nurture my internal garden and cultivate my ability to see the meta-patterns. For years, I’d been watching the emergence of a permaculture village in Queensland. When a Permaculture Design Course was offered there, I went. It was what I issue 108 summer 2021 |  5

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‘portal’ to another way of being in the world in relationship with others. I didn’t need to be fighting against things. Instead I could be working for something and share a vision that was attractive, inviting and inclusive.

After discovering this ‘new’ world of thinker-activists, I heard that Fritjof Capra was teaching at the new Schumacher College in the UK. My heart leapt at the chance of being in a residential learning community exploring these ideas. With help from my parents, a Melbourne University lecturer (who paid me upfront to come back and lecture about what I learnt), and selling anything of value, I set off.

My ‘Turning Point’ I intended to stay at the college for five weeks then backpack to iconic eco-projects like the Centre for Alternative Technology, Findhorn, Windmill Hill City Farm, but I simply couldn’t return home after that. At Schumacher College I met Helena Norberg-Hodge who had just written Ancient Futures. Her sessions about the Ladakhi culture so transfixed me that I volunteered immediately to help at the Ladakh Project. It was an incredible journey to reach this Himalayan region – into the throng of Delhi, through the devastating conflict zone in Kashmir, before rising over the Zoji-La pass, one of the most dangerous mountain roads in the world.

© Luisa Puccini / Shutterstock

Opening a Portal I continued my search for a way to make a difference. I read voraciously and followed the references from one book to another. I discovered EF Schumacher’s Small is Beautiful, Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring, Fukuoka’s One Straw Revolution, McHarg’s Design With Nature, Capra’s The Turning Point, Morris Berman’s Re-enchantment of the World, and the early permaculture books by Mollison and Holmgren. They explored how to live differently to create an ethical and meaningful life. It was as though I ’d opened a

Coming ‘Home’ There, in the remote villages of Ladakh, also known as ‘Little Tibet’, I first experienced what a sustainable society actually felt like – one that had been in existence for over 1,000 years. It was a life built on a rich fabric of connections with place and community, local resilience, cooperation, natural food and housing, an integrated pattern of work and family life, and a colourful cultural world full of music, dance, celebration and ritual. The radiating smiles, the warmth and sense of abundance were evidence that with almost no money, real wealth and happiness could be found. It felt like coming home to what it truly meant to be human. In stark contrast, Helena highlighted the impact of Western development and consumer culture on this way of being, and how being drawn into the global economy was eroding the foundations of Ladakhi culture.

Volunteering in Ladakh remains one of the most transformative experiences of my life, also because of the incredible volunteers I worked with there – Gaian ecologist Stephan Harding; Vandana Shiva, the renowned Indian seed activist; and a young Zac Goldsmith.

After almost a year away, I was back home in the suburbs of Melbourne with a question. What does ecological thinking and Ladakhi-style resilience look like in Western culture? It was then that permaculture came alive for me, though it had always been there. For the seed of permaculture thinking to flourish, I had to first nurture my internal garden and cultivate my ability to see the meta-patterns.

For years, I’d been watching the emergence of a permaculture village in Queensland. When a Permaculture Design Course was offered there, I went. It was what I

issue 108 summer 2021

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