As an ordained minister, especially one who worked with youth for 30 years, I saw and experienced more boundaries of human creation than I could stomach. I've watched churches build boundaries against lifestyles...against gender.. against economics.. and possibly the worst boundary is the one of exclusive faith... Early on I needed a verse of scripture or a philosophy to stand by me and for me to stand by it.. I will conclude my comments by simply listing such as I have used and have been strengthened by...
"If you want to get to the core ethos of true Christianity, Ephesians 2:14 is a good place to start: “For [Jesus] is our peace; in his flesh he has made [all humanity] into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us.” Jesus' purpose is to make humanity one, to tear down every wall that ..."
I can only imagine the division and intentional segregation you've needed to navigate across your years in ministry, Barry. (And interesting, in this moment, to note that "congregation" comes from a similar root.) The ethos of true Christianity is lovely and hard to see in some of those who are loudest in professing their faith. I'm grateful you're here and that I've had the privilege of seeing that you are the real deal when it comes to practicing what you preach.
“We don’t need to possess something in order to care for it. Land. Voice. Another person’s story. None of these can be held with a clenched fist.”
One of my favorite movies is Harold and Maud. Have you seen it? And one of the reasons it’s my favorite movie is because the 85-year-old woman, Maude, seemed to have no concept of “possession.” of course this was exaggerated; she took what she needed when she needed it, and left it for the next person when she was done. But her attitude really woke me up to the fact that our understanding of private property is only one of many ways we could have developed our society.
Thank you, Don. If I've seen the film, it was too long ago to remember. 1971! I'll have to see about a revisit sometime. I'm intrigued by your description of the theme. Having a character in mind when thinking through concepts like these would be helpful. I realize most of these ideas aren't practical if we view them through the lens of what we know about organized societies. But even subtle shifts in our approach might have a positive influence, don't you think? So glad you stopped by!
I’ve lived in countries where there is no private ownership of land and most often, the result is uniform poverty. I’m think of Malawi, in particular, where land use is allocated by a local headman and cannot be purchased except in certain limited areas. The result is that tenancy is tenuous, improvements and investments are not made and the land degrades because no one has a real ownership interest and incentive. Ownership usually means areas defined by some type of boundary.
I’m not challenging the spirit of your point, but there are some practical considerations in play.
Private ownership doesn't automatically equal pride of ownership and stewardship. Where I live there are plenty of property owners who don't maintain or care for what they own.
My point was not about pride of ownership. It was about the disincentive to make improvements without any guarantee of title. In the places I referenced, occupants have use of the land on the whim of a traditional or political leader. Why invest in a well or electricity if you have no guarantee the property will remain yours in the next year.
True, but "improvements" and "investment" imply pride of ownership, and vice-versa, and the benefits that accrue thereof when you own something and have the freedom to develop it for your betterment, security, survival, etc. and that of your heirs. "Pride of ownership" involves much more than just a feeling. It becomes a motivation to do something with what you have control over.
I know it sounds like I'm contradicting my own prior statement, but some property owners don't understand that the two really are inextricably linked in a very real economic and, dare I say, psychological sense.
Totally hear you, and I think there's truth in the idea that pride, control, and investment often go hand-in-hand, economically and psychologically. But your earlier point still stands: ownership doesn’t guarantee stewardship. Maybe that’s the tension—how much our systems shape what we value, and what we feel responsible for. That’s really what I’m trying to probe: not just how things work, but whether we’ve built systems that make care optional rather than inherent.
I know so little about life in countries like Malawi, Switter, that I can only take your word for it. But my impression generally, and from what you write here, is that the issues of systemic inequality and poverty are important considerations. It also sounds like the land is actually owned, or at least regulated by a "headman." If that's the case, perhaps it proves the point that stewardship has to start with relinquishing control.
That said, I'm familiar with the realities of tenancy and land improvement as relate to American agriculture, and there are some similarities. In the long game of improving soil health, for instance, farmers are less likely to adopt conservation practices on leased land, because they have no guarantee of realizing a return on their investment.
Acknowledging the relative impracticality of wholesale abandonment of property lines and ownership, I still think there's room, and need, to shift the attitude of dominion we've cultivated for millennia. No big deal trying amend that mindset, right! ☺️
July 1970: hitchhiking thru Europe. Crossing from West Germany to East. Crossing into East Berlin at Checkpoint Charlie.
Confounded by barriers. Restrictions.
August 1970: attending demonstrations in Republic of Ireland. Decided not to go to the North.
September 1970: moved South to Baltimore. No walls. No restrictions. Gutted neighborhoods.
June 2025: after reading today’s Chicken Scratch, I’m notified by my library that a book I requested recently is in: The Wall, by Marlen Haushoffer. Copyright 1968. Translated from German in 1990 by Shaun Whiteside.
Wow, MM -- !! I'm buoyed in knowing that boundaries are a strong thought-line right now, and how could they not be?
I wonder about the gutted neighborhoods in S. Baltimore. Are you suggesting that you didn't see that replicated in East or West Germany?
What a journey through visible and invisible borders you've had. Maybe some walls aren’t built but imposed in other ways. I’ll be curious what The Wall helps you see next.
I saw a video from a young scientist the other day who pointed out that the whole of human history has centered on migration, and that even if you do not migrate in your lifetime, someone in your past absolutely did, and someone in your family’s future probably will (specifically referring to climate refugees, but other motivators are possible too). It was a very thought provoking point.
If you find it again, Michaela, I'd love to watch it! This is a key point that is made frequently and ignored just as frequently. Very few of us can claim we are "from" anywhere, at least not in the fixed, immovable sense we like to imagine. Thanks for weighing in!
The lines we draw are not ethereal and although we think they are permanent, and land might be ours, they are arbitrary.
My old brain thrives, and is a bit overwhelmed by the changes in how we relate to one another, including what walls are erected.
The Native Americans were native, and yet, were thrown off the land. I've heard many logical suggestions as to reasons for this, but have just recently learned a new one: the first time a white man traded a gun and alcohol for furs, the natives became dependent ofn things they did not make, and that put them in a position from which they were not able to overcome.
I hope this makes sense.
The natives, having become dependent on the white man, needed to succumb to the demands so that they could thrive once again.
That's interesting, Jill, and I really appreciate you thinking through all of this here. The history is deeply complex and devastating. What you said about the lines we draw not being ethereal really struck me. They're imagined, but they carry real and lasting consequences.
As for what happened with Native communities—yes, the introduction of guns, alcohol, and trade goods was part of a larger system of forced dependence. But I don’t think thriving ever came from succumbing. What’s remarkable is how much resistance, adaptation, and resilience Indigenous peoples have shown in the face of ongoing attempts to erase them. That feels important to hold alongside the history of loss.
The only fence that I have put up is the one that keeps voracious rabbits and woodchucks out of my vegetable gardens : they have free reign throughout the rest of my native gardens and yard ( what remains of the turf grass ) , but I do draw the line when the local bunnies start hovering up my newly planted seeds and seedlings
Interestingly, the Findhorners planted gardens specifically for the animals and insects and asked the critters not to eat out of the humans' gardens. Seems to have worked, without fences. Hmmm.....
Right? There’s something so compelling about that approach—invitation over exclusion. Makes you wonder what shifts when we assume dialogue and reciprocity instead of control. Hmmm, indeed…
I hear this, Melody, and you know I'm on a similar page with keeping my gardens from going to the varmints! I love that you’ve made space for coexistence, even if it means drawing a (literal) line around the veggies. Feels like a good metaphor for thoughtful stewardship. ☺️ Good to see you here. Thanks for reading!
Yes, Beth! That belief challenges so much of how we define possession and territory. As someone coming from a settler or immigrant background, I know I still have a lot to learn about Indigenous perspectives on land. It's humbling—and necessary—to sit with that difference. Thanks for spending some time here this week.
I stood on the great wall of China at 17, wearing a stupid panda hat, sick from the rocky ride through the mountains. I looked out at the wilderness, at the wall bisecting it. I could barely comprehend the importance, the effort, the significance of the thing. That was my first time out in the world on my own. And now I understand it a little more. The desire to put obstacles between you and the world. I do it now. But hopefully my boundaries are more fluid.
Thank you for this beautifully specific memory, Evelyn. The image of you—seventeen, queasy, and wearing a panda hat—standing on something so massive and symbolic, is disarming. And don't we still repeatedly stand inside history without grasping our own place in it?
I’m struck by the line: “the desire to put obstacles between you and the world.” It’s such a human impulse, and your reflection gets at how complicated that desire is. The challenge, as you say, is whether those obstacles become solid walls or something more permeable. Not the rejection of boundaries entirely, but the ability to shape them consciously, knowing when to let them breathe. So appreciate you reading and commenting.
I lived for nearly 2 decades in a zero lot line community. It was built on a ravine no developer would have desired in the early 1950s and featured
Usonian architecture. All manner of wildlife and children would wander through,enjoying the woods, creek, and ravine. Ironically there were stringent rules about the stain used on the houses and the color of the trim. Hmmm!
Your writing today reminded me of the song "You Have to be Carefully Taught" from South Pacific.
Thank you—what a rich memory! That blend of openness and regulation you describe says so much: a ravine no one wanted becomes a shared sanctuary, and yet even there, control creeps in. That tension between freedom and order feels so central to how we shape (and fence in) our communities.
And “You’ve Got to Be Carefully Taught.” Wow! That song was practically part of the air I breathed growing up. My parents were stationed in Hawaii when my oldest sibling was born in ’52, and the South Pacific soundtrack played often in our house. I think about that song’s boldness for its time, how it names the way prejudice is handed down, systematized. And now I'll be humming the tune for the remainder of the day. :)
Much appreciated, Holly, and thank you for affirming. I kept asking myself, "Is it too much? Am I beating it to death?"
May I also admit here that it took three reads to realize you'd written "holy" not "hot" up there, and I'm pretty sure both renditions are now going to rise up in the vernacular, at least for a little while.
Ha! I definitely meant holy damn, but hot works too.
Not too much at all. You struck a really good balance, with both the musicality of the refrain and the meditative returning to. Not to mention these are such good (hard, sad, beautiful) what-ifs to contemplate.
Your true stewardship section struck me as we call ourselves the 'caretakers' of the sailing vessel we live on, not the 'owners.' As Switter has seen, it takes exceptional people to take responsibility and care for what is not theirs.
This was not where I thought my comment was going, but here I am.
Thanks, Elizabeth, for stretching my brain, again. J
Here you are! Here we all are, bumbling our way along in this complex life.
I read an article this week that struck deeply. It was about the mental health crisis in rural America and, as you might imagine, the burdens our farmers bear (and I mean all of them, not just one size or production system). That in combination with my now fenced in yard, the environmental degradation we see everywhere, and the current administration looking to sell off vast tracts of public land had me continuing in this line of thinking about how we came to be so separated from principles of mutual care. We know it still exists, see it in our responses to natural disasters [in our own country], feel it individually when one of our own is in trouble. It gets so much harder to see when we try to bring it to a collective mindset.
Thank, you, Janice, for your willingness to think alongside me!
As an ordained minister, especially one who worked with youth for 30 years, I saw and experienced more boundaries of human creation than I could stomach. I've watched churches build boundaries against lifestyles...against gender.. against economics.. and possibly the worst boundary is the one of exclusive faith... Early on I needed a verse of scripture or a philosophy to stand by me and for me to stand by it.. I will conclude my comments by simply listing such as I have used and have been strengthened by...
"If you want to get to the core ethos of true Christianity, Ephesians 2:14 is a good place to start: “For [Jesus] is our peace; in his flesh he has made [all humanity] into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us.” Jesus' purpose is to make humanity one, to tear down every wall that ..."
I can only imagine the division and intentional segregation you've needed to navigate across your years in ministry, Barry. (And interesting, in this moment, to note that "congregation" comes from a similar root.) The ethos of true Christianity is lovely and hard to see in some of those who are loudest in professing their faith. I'm grateful you're here and that I've had the privilege of seeing that you are the real deal when it comes to practicing what you preach.
This was one of my favorite passages, Elizabeth:
“We don’t need to possess something in order to care for it. Land. Voice. Another person’s story. None of these can be held with a clenched fist.”
One of my favorite movies is Harold and Maud. Have you seen it? And one of the reasons it’s my favorite movie is because the 85-year-old woman, Maude, seemed to have no concept of “possession.” of course this was exaggerated; she took what she needed when she needed it, and left it for the next person when she was done. But her attitude really woke me up to the fact that our understanding of private property is only one of many ways we could have developed our society.
Great essay, Elizabeth. I really enjoyed it!
Thank you, Don. If I've seen the film, it was too long ago to remember. 1971! I'll have to see about a revisit sometime. I'm intrigued by your description of the theme. Having a character in mind when thinking through concepts like these would be helpful. I realize most of these ideas aren't practical if we view them through the lens of what we know about organized societies. But even subtle shifts in our approach might have a positive influence, don't you think? So glad you stopped by!
It’s actually comedy noir (is that a thing?) with a beautiful soundtrack by Cat Stevens. The film ends with a hopeful message of embracing life.
I think it is a thing. I saw a write-up that called it "black comedy," so there you go. I'll dig around for a way to watch. Thanks!
It could be dated, so please don’t hold it against me if you find it highly inappropriate 😆
😅
I’ve lived in countries where there is no private ownership of land and most often, the result is uniform poverty. I’m think of Malawi, in particular, where land use is allocated by a local headman and cannot be purchased except in certain limited areas. The result is that tenancy is tenuous, improvements and investments are not made and the land degrades because no one has a real ownership interest and incentive. Ownership usually means areas defined by some type of boundary.
I’m not challenging the spirit of your point, but there are some practical considerations in play.
Private ownership doesn't automatically equal pride of ownership and stewardship. Where I live there are plenty of property owners who don't maintain or care for what they own.
My point was not about pride of ownership. It was about the disincentive to make improvements without any guarantee of title. In the places I referenced, occupants have use of the land on the whim of a traditional or political leader. Why invest in a well or electricity if you have no guarantee the property will remain yours in the next year.
True, but "improvements" and "investment" imply pride of ownership, and vice-versa, and the benefits that accrue thereof when you own something and have the freedom to develop it for your betterment, security, survival, etc. and that of your heirs. "Pride of ownership" involves much more than just a feeling. It becomes a motivation to do something with what you have control over.
I know it sounds like I'm contradicting my own prior statement, but some property owners don't understand that the two really are inextricably linked in a very real economic and, dare I say, psychological sense.
Totally hear you, and I think there's truth in the idea that pride, control, and investment often go hand-in-hand, economically and psychologically. But your earlier point still stands: ownership doesn’t guarantee stewardship. Maybe that’s the tension—how much our systems shape what we value, and what we feel responsible for. That’s really what I’m trying to probe: not just how things work, but whether we’ve built systems that make care optional rather than inherent.
Grateful for your input here.
I know so little about life in countries like Malawi, Switter, that I can only take your word for it. But my impression generally, and from what you write here, is that the issues of systemic inequality and poverty are important considerations. It also sounds like the land is actually owned, or at least regulated by a "headman." If that's the case, perhaps it proves the point that stewardship has to start with relinquishing control.
That said, I'm familiar with the realities of tenancy and land improvement as relate to American agriculture, and there are some similarities. In the long game of improving soil health, for instance, farmers are less likely to adopt conservation practices on leased land, because they have no guarantee of realizing a return on their investment.
Acknowledging the relative impracticality of wholesale abandonment of property lines and ownership, I still think there's room, and need, to shift the attitude of dominion we've cultivated for millennia. No big deal trying amend that mindset, right! ☺️
Really appreciate your input.
July 1970: hitchhiking thru Europe. Crossing from West Germany to East. Crossing into East Berlin at Checkpoint Charlie.
Confounded by barriers. Restrictions.
August 1970: attending demonstrations in Republic of Ireland. Decided not to go to the North.
September 1970: moved South to Baltimore. No walls. No restrictions. Gutted neighborhoods.
June 2025: after reading today’s Chicken Scratch, I’m notified by my library that a book I requested recently is in: The Wall, by Marlen Haushoffer. Copyright 1968. Translated from German in 1990 by Shaun Whiteside.
What other walls can I find?
Wow, MM -- !! I'm buoyed in knowing that boundaries are a strong thought-line right now, and how could they not be?
I wonder about the gutted neighborhoods in S. Baltimore. Are you suggesting that you didn't see that replicated in East or West Germany?
What a journey through visible and invisible borders you've had. Maybe some walls aren’t built but imposed in other ways. I’ll be curious what The Wall helps you see next.
Such good writing Elizabeth, I’m left with many thoughts about boundaries and barriers in my own part of the world.
Thanks, Lindsay. Having never spent time there, I'm curious: Do you think most people realize how many of us are devastated by what's happening here?
Glad you stopped by!
I saw a video from a young scientist the other day who pointed out that the whole of human history has centered on migration, and that even if you do not migrate in your lifetime, someone in your past absolutely did, and someone in your family’s future probably will (specifically referring to climate refugees, but other motivators are possible too). It was a very thought provoking point.
If you find it again, Michaela, I'd love to watch it! This is a key point that is made frequently and ignored just as frequently. Very few of us can claim we are "from" anywhere, at least not in the fixed, immovable sense we like to imagine. Thanks for weighing in!
The lines we draw are not ethereal and although we think they are permanent, and land might be ours, they are arbitrary.
My old brain thrives, and is a bit overwhelmed by the changes in how we relate to one another, including what walls are erected.
The Native Americans were native, and yet, were thrown off the land. I've heard many logical suggestions as to reasons for this, but have just recently learned a new one: the first time a white man traded a gun and alcohol for furs, the natives became dependent ofn things they did not make, and that put them in a position from which they were not able to overcome.
I hope this makes sense.
The natives, having become dependent on the white man, needed to succumb to the demands so that they could thrive once again.
And never were able to.
How complex is that?
That's interesting, Jill, and I really appreciate you thinking through all of this here. The history is deeply complex and devastating. What you said about the lines we draw not being ethereal really struck me. They're imagined, but they carry real and lasting consequences.
As for what happened with Native communities—yes, the introduction of guns, alcohol, and trade goods was part of a larger system of forced dependence. But I don’t think thriving ever came from succumbing. What’s remarkable is how much resistance, adaptation, and resilience Indigenous peoples have shown in the face of ongoing attempts to erase them. That feels important to hold alongside the history of loss.
Yes❣️
The only fence that I have put up is the one that keeps voracious rabbits and woodchucks out of my vegetable gardens : they have free reign throughout the rest of my native gardens and yard ( what remains of the turf grass ) , but I do draw the line when the local bunnies start hovering up my newly planted seeds and seedlings
Interestingly, the Findhorners planted gardens specifically for the animals and insects and asked the critters not to eat out of the humans' gardens. Seems to have worked, without fences. Hmmm.....
Right? There’s something so compelling about that approach—invitation over exclusion. Makes you wonder what shifts when we assume dialogue and reciprocity instead of control. Hmmm, indeed…
I hear this, Melody, and you know I'm on a similar page with keeping my gardens from going to the varmints! I love that you’ve made space for coexistence, even if it means drawing a (literal) line around the veggies. Feels like a good metaphor for thoughtful stewardship. ☺️ Good to see you here. Thanks for reading!
Thank You for your thought- provoking essays !
Australian aborigines believe that the land owns them. Us immigrants will never fully grasp that unfortunately.
Yes, Beth! That belief challenges so much of how we define possession and territory. As someone coming from a settler or immigrant background, I know I still have a lot to learn about Indigenous perspectives on land. It's humbling—and necessary—to sit with that difference. Thanks for spending some time here this week.
I stood on the great wall of China at 17, wearing a stupid panda hat, sick from the rocky ride through the mountains. I looked out at the wilderness, at the wall bisecting it. I could barely comprehend the importance, the effort, the significance of the thing. That was my first time out in the world on my own. And now I understand it a little more. The desire to put obstacles between you and the world. I do it now. But hopefully my boundaries are more fluid.
Thank you for this beautifully specific memory, Evelyn. The image of you—seventeen, queasy, and wearing a panda hat—standing on something so massive and symbolic, is disarming. And don't we still repeatedly stand inside history without grasping our own place in it?
I’m struck by the line: “the desire to put obstacles between you and the world.” It’s such a human impulse, and your reflection gets at how complicated that desire is. The challenge, as you say, is whether those obstacles become solid walls or something more permeable. Not the rejection of boundaries entirely, but the ability to shape them consciously, knowing when to let them breathe. So appreciate you reading and commenting.
I lived for nearly 2 decades in a zero lot line community. It was built on a ravine no developer would have desired in the early 1950s and featured
Usonian architecture. All manner of wildlife and children would wander through,enjoying the woods, creek, and ravine. Ironically there were stringent rules about the stain used on the houses and the color of the trim. Hmmm!
Your writing today reminded me of the song "You Have to be Carefully Taught" from South Pacific.
Thank you—what a rich memory! That blend of openness and regulation you describe says so much: a ravine no one wanted becomes a shared sanctuary, and yet even there, control creeps in. That tension between freedom and order feels so central to how we shape (and fence in) our communities.
And “You’ve Got to Be Carefully Taught.” Wow! That song was practically part of the air I breathed growing up. My parents were stationed in Hawaii when my oldest sibling was born in ’52, and the South Pacific soundtrack played often in our house. I think about that song’s boldness for its time, how it names the way prejudice is handed down, systematized. And now I'll be humming the tune for the remainder of the day. :)
Holy damn, Elizabeth. This is so good I can hardly pick out a favorite line. That what-if refrain is just gorgeously rendered.
Much appreciated, Holly, and thank you for affirming. I kept asking myself, "Is it too much? Am I beating it to death?"
May I also admit here that it took three reads to realize you'd written "holy" not "hot" up there, and I'm pretty sure both renditions are now going to rise up in the vernacular, at least for a little while.
Ha! I definitely meant holy damn, but hot works too.
Not too much at all. You struck a really good balance, with both the musicality of the refrain and the meditative returning to. Not to mention these are such good (hard, sad, beautiful) what-ifs to contemplate.
I love this, Elizabeth. You remind me of Robert Frost: "Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out...."
The Mending Wall was certainly in the background of the thought process on this one, Rona. Some questions are never fully resolved, are they?
What a joy to share that writing room with you!! Cannot wait to do it again. 🙏🏻🩷
The ball juggling act just gained another ball. Gotta find a way to keep that one going! 😅
Your true stewardship section struck me as we call ourselves the 'caretakers' of the sailing vessel we live on, not the 'owners.' As Switter has seen, it takes exceptional people to take responsibility and care for what is not theirs.
This was not where I thought my comment was going, but here I am.
Thanks, Elizabeth, for stretching my brain, again. J
Here you are! Here we all are, bumbling our way along in this complex life.
I read an article this week that struck deeply. It was about the mental health crisis in rural America and, as you might imagine, the burdens our farmers bear (and I mean all of them, not just one size or production system). That in combination with my now fenced in yard, the environmental degradation we see everywhere, and the current administration looking to sell off vast tracts of public land had me continuing in this line of thinking about how we came to be so separated from principles of mutual care. We know it still exists, see it in our responses to natural disasters [in our own country], feel it individually when one of our own is in trouble. It gets so much harder to see when we try to bring it to a collective mindset.
Thank, you, Janice, for your willingness to think alongside me!
It's purely my pleasure!