The three-hour drive to my planned permaculture site takes me through an endless sea of rice paddies. From the highway, they paint a deceptively idyllic picture – neat rows of green stretching to the horizon.
But beneath this uniform landscape lies a troubling reality: struggling farmers locked into cycles of patented seeds and scheduled fertilizers, their lives controlled by big landowners, millers, and agricultural supply chains.
Then the road curves toward the mountains, home to the indigenous Aeta people.
Here, on slopes too steep for industrial farming, a different agricultural story unfolds.
On hikes with Aeta guides, I’ve seen their forest gardens flourishing with sweet potato and gabi. Though the Aeta are very much part of modern society, their traditional farming practices offer glimpses of a more harmonious way of growing food – one that’s reshaping my vision for permaculture.
Their ancient farming wisdom holds three crucial lessons for modern growers: the spiritual dimension of sustainability, the power of daily ritual in farming, and a radical redefinition of abundance that could transform how we grow food.
Understanding Salanta: Beyond Simple Sustainability
The Aeta’s principle of “salanta” emerged during one of my annual hikes with the community. These treks through their ancestral lands have become a cherished tradition for me – once or twice a year, I join their guides to learn about forest plants and traditional practices.
On one particularly memorable hike last summer, our group stopped to harvest some sweet potatoes for lunch.
As I watched Ka Ramon, one of the elders, carefully selecting which plants to dig up, I asked him why he passed over some larger specimens that seemed ready for harvest.
“Salanta,” he said simply, continuing his methodical work. When I asked him to explain, he shared that they only take what’s needed for the day’s meal, leaving the rest to grow fuller or feed others who might pass through. Some they leave for the next generation of plants.
This wasn’t just practical advice about sustainable harvesting.
As we sat eating our freshly roasted sweet potatoes under the forest canopy, Ka Ramon explained that salanta was central to their relationship with the land – a spiritual principle passed down through generations.
Unlike modern farming’s focus on maximizing yields, salanta teaches taking only what you need for today. At first glance, this might seem like simple resource management, similar to permaculture’s principle of “fair share.”
But spending time with Aeta farmers revealed something deeper: salanta isn’t just a sustainability practice – it’s a daily spiritual ritual that transforms the act of growing and harvesting food into a sacred relationship with the land.
Each morning, the Aeta enter their forest gardens with a profound sense of reverence.
They harvest exactly what their families need for the day – no more, no less. This isn’t driven by external rules or design principles, but by a deep spiritual understanding that they are part of nature’s cycle, not its masters.
As one elder explained to me, “The land is not our possession; we belong to it.”
Daily Rituals of Sacred Growing
Let me be direct: To grow food well is fundamentally a spiritual act. If that makes you uncomfortable, permaculture might not be for you.
I learned this the hard way. For years, I approached growing plants with an iron grip – obsessively monitoring my potted plants, micromanaging every aspect of my backyard garden, trying to control every outcome. If a leaf showed spots, I’d immediately reach for solutions. If growth wasn’t perfect, I’d adjust and tinker endlessly. I thought good growing was about maintaining tight control over nature.
The Aeta showed me how wrong I was.
Their farming isn’t guided by spreadsheets or yield calculations. It flows from something more fundamental: a daily practice of spiritual connection with the land. When they gather honey, the careful portioning they leave for the bees isn’t a sustainability strategy – it’s a prayer. When they replant their best root crops, it’s not crop science – it’s an act of devotion.
This isn’t some mystical philosophy separate from the practical work of growing food. The spiritual and the practical are one and the same. You cannot truly practice permaculture while maintaining emotional distance from the land.
The moment you see soil as merely a growing medium rather than a living partner, you’ve already failed.
Harmonizing Modern Permaculture and Ancient Wisdom
This wisdom will profoundly influence how I approach permaculture. While I’ll certainly use design principles and technical knowledge, I plan to approach my future farm more as a sacred space than a production system.
I envision starting each morning with a walking meditation through my food forest, observing what the land needs and harvesting only what’s necessary for the day.
I believe this simple ritual will help build a deeper relationship with the land.
The Aeta’s practice of salanta offers a profound lesson for aspiring permaculture practitioners like myself. It reminds me that sustainable agriculture isn’t just about clever design or efficient systems – it’s about cultivating a sacred relationship with the land through daily ritual and respect.
In an era of industrial agriculture and environmental crisis, this indigenous wisdom points toward a different way of growing – one that I hope will nourish both soil and soul.
For those of us planning to practice permaculture, the Aeta’s wisdom offers concrete ways to begin our journey: Start each day with a mindful garden walk before any work begins.
Replace yield calculations with daily harvest rituals that respond to immediate needs. Integrate moments of gratitude and reflection into regular farming tasks.
These simple but powerful practices can help us build a relationship with the land based on partnership rather than management.
As I drive back from Bataan, passing those endless rice paddies, I carry with me a new understanding that will shape my permaculture journey.
The future of sustainable agriculture might depend less on new technologies or design principles, and more on recovering this ancient wisdom: that farming, at its heart, is a spiritual practice.
The Aeta people show us that when we approach growing food as a sacred act, sustainability naturally follows.