As I gather with my family to make our yearly buche de noel,
a cake shaped like a tree branch that we make during the darkest week of the
year as a practice that involves much cheer, warmth, coziness, and reminder of
our love of trees (when they leaf out again, when they are burned in our fires
and built into our projects, and here, at the very northernmost edge of
fullsize holly trees, in the glory of evergreens), I am reflecting on some of
the most powerful themes of my year-long project of mapping the geographies of
food stories. Influenced by the work of Mike
Mikulak, it seems that this year’s most important narrative theme may be
one of asserted abundance in the face
of fears of scarcity – and this seems particularly salient as I struggle to
retain a focus on the interesting parts of reciprocity in seasonal gift giving.
Most conversations about environment, food, and resources in
which I’ve participated this year have struggled, at some point, with the
question of what it means to have “enough for everyone.” People seem
increasingly interested in how to talk about climate change, income inequity,
and food justice in ways that give more people entry points – rather than in
ways that trigger “loss frames”: concentrating on how to get people enough
comfort to embark on a different conversation with composure and ease rather
than feeling destabilized and disregulated by the fear of loss, or, worse,
disgust at others who might seem less deserving of what we feel we have earned,
by having it, especially in the defensive light of fear of loss.
Christmas and the other yule holidays seem designed as a
stay against the fear of loss, especially in cold northerly latitudes where the
turning of the darkest days may signal a return to light – but also a long cold
season ahead, particularly hard to face from the darkness. Caroling to others,
spreading baked goods around, cheery lights and fires, and even presents all
seem designed to press gently
back on the dark with its threat of cold and want, largely by the
reassurance that there is plenty to go around, in comfort, for all (as well as
that the green will return and the forests will be maintained as plentiful
sources of provision).
As I think about the moral economy involved in this cake log
– the reminder that everyone needs forests, that they are not just for the few
at the expense of the many, that they must be cared for over time, even when we
want them most now, and even over generations, even though that may not be
conceivable – I realize that the traditions of the yule log involve wishes that
the coming year might bring good fortune for all, including much happiness and
food. And this underlines one of the most prominent emerging themes in my
conversations about food: food sovereignty, which in this light might be
interpreted as an assertion of the value of maintaining good fortune in
circulation amongst all our relations – not allowing value to escape “up the
food chain” – the danger I interpret people being concerned about in the loss
framed narratives about the commercialization of Christmas. So may your yule log burn merry and bright, and may it be
easy for you to share comfort with all as we head over the hump of the darkest
days in its warm light to the cold and uncertain days ahead!
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