Earlier this week, Realistic Sanctuary blog posted the first part of a two-part interview with Miranda Loud, a pipe organist, mezzo soprano and artistic director. In 2005, Miranda founded Rialto Arts, a non-for-profit arts organization based near Boston, Massachusetts, whose slogan is "Where nature takes center stage." The animating idea behind Rialto Arts is for music and art to be a springboard for a vision of a new harmonious relationship with the natural world. What follows is the second and final part of a generous interview in which Miranda relates her thoughts on causes for hope, recommends some books and offers a personal interpretation of the term "Realistic Sanctuary."

Sanjay Khanna: I have recently begun thinking that there’s a connection between the arts and human survival. I remember times feeling sad about the state of the world and soon afterwards touched and enlivened after going to a Bach concert, or hearing stories about Holocaust survivors breaking down on listening to a street musician play the violin.

Miranda Loud: I think what you're getting at is that being exposed to and experiencing beauty is essential to human survival. Today music seems all pervasive, especially recorded music. It seems as if it is commonly a background to almost everything-shopping, eating, driving. When you see someone play in the subway or perform live up close, there is fragility and strength to it. It is definitely true that music heard two hundred years ago when there were no radios or recordings would have been perceived differently and probably appreciated even more because it was unrepeatable. Today we are overloaded with sensory information. If you're trying to navigate a car and avoid crazy drivers (like me) while listening to Bach, you're not in the optimal context for gaining the full benefit of that music.

SK: To me, it feels surreal to live at this time when on one hand we speak enthusiastically about our technological progress (and prowess), while on the other hand climate scientists are telling us that civilization is at incredible peril over a very, very short time frame, say, the next 10 to 20 years. Do you feel a similar sense of unreality and, if so, what are some strategies you use to keep yourself sane, grounded, connected and, where possible, optimistic?

ML: What a good question. I struggle with that balance of needing to learn and be open to what is happening ecologically, spiritually, scientifically and artistically, and yet sometimes feel myself in danger of becoming overwhelmed at the magnitude of what is going on with famine, water shortages, species loss, cruelty, war. Still, I find optimism in the gestures of kindness I see in the people I work with every day-the actors at the theater where I work, the priests at the church where I play the organ, the people whom I meet around town or in the library.

I think weaning ourselves off of oil will be messy and violent, but, ultimately, I have faith that the earth and people will be much better off after the dust settles. I think many people have a sense of the fragility of today's society but don't have the emotional space to deal with it. One idea I find very interesting is that we have been going on "progress auto-pilot" for several centuries and are now developing a global consciousness about what humanity is capable of. As this consciousness expands, more holistic and imaginative solutions will appear to help species survive. I hope I'm around to see a lot of them.

Just to bring it back to elephants: Elephants are incredibly ingenious at surviving huge changes in temperature, drought and food scarcity. Sadly, they are not able to escape poachers although forest elephants are very good at hiding. Elephants have been around a lot longer than human beings. We could learn a lot about community and survival from them. They function in matriarchal societies, which seems like it might be worth a try.

SK: What are some books you'd recommend?

ML: Several books spring to mind:

The Soul of Nature: Visions of a Living Earth, edited by Michael Tobias and Georgianne Cowan, includes thought-provoking essays by Wendell Berry, Matthew Fox, Peter Matthiessen, Thich Nhat Hanh and others.

Natural Capitalism: Creating the Next Industrial Revolution by Paul Hawken is a great book of solutions to restoring the planet with ideas about how industries and economies can work in harmony with the environment (and how many already are).

The Voice of the Infinite in the Small: Revisioning the Insect-Human Connection by Joanne Elizabeth Lauck.

The Dream of the Earth by Thomas Berry is a series of essays about our current environmental situation with unique perspectives on how we got here and what might happen to us and to the Earth.

The Golden Spruce: A True Story of Myth, Madness, and Greed by John Vaillant. I found this book about the Haida people, the sanctity of trees, the issues around clear-cut logging on Vancouver Island (and in British Columbia in general) hard to put down.

Silent Thunder in the Presence of Elephants by Katy Payne.

Grayson by Lynne Cox, an incredible true story about a long-distance swimmer who communicates with a whale in distress.

The Parrot Who Owns Me: The Story of a Relationship by Joanna Burger, which provides a convincing case for cross-species love and respect. A beautiful story.

SK: From your perspective, how can we learn to appreciate the basics more?

ML: This question reminds me of part of an essay by Matthew Fox (a priest who has been excommunicated for his views on a nature-focused spirituality) that a Native American elder once told him that a way to learn reverence for something was to go without it for a while. You really learn reverence for water when you don't have it for three days.

I guess I'm suggesting that people go without things that they think they really need for a few days to push their comfort envelope. It always teaches you things about yourself and what you really do need. You probably notice that if you eat when you're hungry, food tastes even better. You appreciate friendship more when you have been traveling alone for some time.

I think it takes very simple choices to help improve one's quality of life. For me, I practice active noticing in my environment and framing observations in ways that make me feel part of a larger community. Negative thoughts are a choice that you can practice avoiding. I bike and walk more because it brings me more in touch with other people and nature, and I practice vegetarianism and gratitude for food before I eat it. It makes me feel more grounded and healthier.

Sometimes I focus on one of my senses for a day to really enjoy, say, being able to see, taste, smell, hear or feel. Sounds corny, but these little things stimulate my imagination and make everything around me seem richer. They make me feel more present and take me away from worrying about the future.

SK: You mentioned that you spent time in Findhorn, Scotland, to learn about living in an ecologically sound manner.

ML: After resigning from the church job I had as an organist for seven years, I was looking for an experience that would expand my worldview and be fun at the same time. I had been reading a lot on my own about sustainable living and thinking about ways of finding community and lowering the cost of living. I discovered the Findhorn Foundation in Scotland was offering a training course for people who were interested in learning about eco-village design. I had always wanted to go to Scotland. This seemed like the moment!

Not only was my month at Findhorn the largest shift in my personal growth in years, it introduced me to a like-minded group of people from around the world (there were 30 of us in the course) who ended up teaching me by the example of the amazing projects they were already doing in their lives. It was an honor to be there with them and terrific to still be in touch with the group.

One of the first exercises we did as a group was to practice a grief and despair ritual. This was meant to help us feel compassion for one another and the world and move through our grief so that we could really make things happen during the course. All our courses were held with us in a circle. In the middle was some sort of centerpiece that someone had created that day.

For the grief ritual, we took turns as the spirit moved us in reaching a stone from the center of the circle (our talking stone) and describing something that made us sad. The rest of the group then responded with "We hear you." I mentioned that the ice melting under the polar bears and their drowning made me incredibly sad. A woman Argentina mentioned that she felt grief over a forest near her cottage where she had always spent weekends being cut down and the loss of bird song. One of the members of the group who was an architect in Iraq mentioned how sad he was that the beautiful garden that his friend had cared for was now a pile of rubble since the Iraq war started. It was very profound and also cathartic.

Throughout the course people made presentations of their work in their own countries to the rest of the group. Several people ran community garden projects. One of the more powerful presentations was from a man from Estonia who uses horse therapy in a small school for orphaned or abused children who have behavior problems. We ate lunch and dinner communally and would practice teaching the material we had learned in the mornings to one another in a variety of teaching styles in the afternoons.

If anyone reading this is interested in learning more, I would be happy to share anything else they want to hear about it.

SK: What gives you hope?

ML: There are so many things that give me hope, not only for humanity but also for the health of the earth to return. I have hope because I have seen incredible acts of peace and personal transformation where I wouldn't have expected it. I see more people talking about things in new ways, politics for example. Starting a Ministry of Peace. Kids are learning meditation and yoga as part of many school programs, tools they can use for their whole lives as a way to deal with conflict, anger and all sorts of emotions.

SK: Finally, what does "Realistic Sanctuary" mean to you?

ML: For me, realistic sanctuary means to trust the wisdom inside, to be able to be at peace in my own mind by using breath and imagery to center myself. Meditation helps me navigate the shifting world and my own inclinations to mood swings, depending on the weather, what I had for breakfast, the latest news on global warming, or who said what to whom. Realistically, safety is an illusion. We all must die at some point, but art, music and the imagination provide me with a movable feast to navigate the journey.

End of second and final part of the interview with Miranda Loud of Rialto Arts.

For more information, Miranda's personal web site is at http://www.mirandaloud.com, while Rialto Arts' web site can be found at http://www.rialtoarts.org. Miranda can be emailed at admin AT rialtoarts DOT org.

Comments or questions? Email Sanjay Khanna at realisticsanctuary AT gmail DOT com.