Ever since I was little, I always loved seeing how the various elements of life would come together. Coastal storms clashing together in the sky, shedding water and shooting winds more powerful than one could fathom; small and seemingly insignificant mushrooms twirling up through the wet moss; or a brilliant flower racing to the warm, scattered desert surface to warn of the rattlesnake’s arrival. It seems to me that ecosystems always interact, no matter how rugged or volatile. In fact, this is what basic ecology would teach – that ecosystems, even the one in my sink full of dishes, are strongholds for life built with the diversity of that same life. The forest and everything in it works together, relying fully on each and every individual niche yet glorifying the whole biodiverse canvas within it.
Communities are like this; they’re diverse and changing constantly. Communities have needs, strengths, and weaknesses too. Communities see the rise and the fall of various talents and passions, yielding a nursery-ground for young inspiration. But how often do we truly recognize that inspiration? If cesspools of people are so similar to cesspools of plants in their diversity, why do we end up reinforcing one niche over the other? Exemplifying conformity, stifling individuality?
I really couldn’t tell you, to be honest. But I do know in a business-sense that when the many people that make a single organization are individually appreciated, motivated and mentored, the whole thrives in harmony. The varying talents and voices of the young horde, awaiting opportunity, are not complications to the bottom line; rather, they’re essential puzzle pieces to filling in perspective and relevance to a product or target demographic. This, if nothing else, is what I’m taking away from a weeks-to-completion BA in Not-for-Profit Leadership from Summit Pacific College. Against all our 21st century’s messages of mass production and streamline success, the key to unlocking the “true whole,” the complete potential and productivity of a community or ecosystem, is inspiring the unique functions of us all. This is what I dream to facilitate and mentor – it’s also why I take great interest in biology. Think of a vegetable garden with its varying types and needs. Each plant needs a different combination of conditions concerning drainage, soil content, sun exposure, etc. To get the absolute most out of such a diverse garden, one would need to take into consideration the unique needs of each plant to promote the highest yield possible. You couldn’t treat a young lettuce plant the same way you treated a fully mature strawberry plant in the height of the Okanagan summer heat, the lettuce would surely wilt and die!
My key concern, the very question of my heart then, is how we can truly nurture each other as equal and unique contributors in such a time as this. Between the young and the old, the local and the immigrant, the lettuce and the strawberry, what fertilizer must we implement to truly maximize the harmonious yield of Oliver’s diversity that already leaps with life and potential?
by Rebekah Thomas
Rebekah is our latest columnist to come on board. She has lived, been schooled, worked in Oliver for many years. University trained as well – the daughter of a local pastor. She has an interesting take on the world she sees from young eyes.