Thoughts on the Body

I wrote is as an assignment for my Feminist Theory class. I thought it was pretty good and ended up reading it for the class. I though i should post it seeing how i haven't put up anything recently.

The body is a wonderful and treacherous thing. It can be the idol, the worshiped, the striven for. But it can be the vile, the disgusting, and the undesirable. In western culture, or in most cultures around the world, there are aspects of the human existence that are revered, like strong chiseled muscles or straight flowing hair. But for every positive there is a negative. Excessive body fat or blotchy and blemished skin for example. These dualities reach into the reproductive areas. Big cocks and perfect amounts of pubic hair (none in some cases) are desirable where small penises and overly pronounced vulva are frowned upon. Even fluids which can be sexualized for obvious reasons become filthy once leaving the body. Semen is gross to some and the menstrual blood, once revered and honored is now detested and seen as a scourge. Like hair once fallen from the head, menstrual blood once excreted from the body is detested. We have be en-cultured to distrust and hate our bodies. To objectify ourselves and place our ideas of perfection on a pedestal so high that the very fact that we are a flesh and blood human means we can never achieve the self fulfillment within reaching those lofty goals. We see the Greek and Roman statues of Gods and Goddess, perfectly carved from stone. Knowing ourselves to be of the same earth, we strive for godliness but fall short by the trappings of mortality.
I call forth an old god. The one of curves and humanity. The one who holds the moon and horn. The ebb and flow of life is her power. The faceless deity carved into stone is the mirror I want to hold. The rust and ocher textures of the walls reflect my rough skin and not the polished marble of so many pantheons. These undefined ancestors who are more flesh and blood than even Zeus of Hera ever dreamed of being. Let us not place our physical appearance goals on the gods of marble and bronze but those who are closer to home. They live in caves and rocks. They are not so high up that we can’t reach them. Down into the earth and into ourselves is where the physical self actualization occurs.

Case of the Fuck-Its and Presence

So what do you do when you look around and all you see is crap. The economy sucks, politicians are either insane or spinning their wheels and all you want is more sleep, more coffee and a cigarette. Okay besides the last one, all are really needed.
It's the bringing of the semester and I already feel the pull of what i call my mild state of depression that comes about every fall. It's call the fuck-its; as in 'Fuck It'!
We'll thank the goddess that I've done years of introspection and shadow work so i can sense these things coming along sooner than i would back in my Freshman year! Or is it just the process of growing up that allows one to feel things more subtlety. Either way, now that I've caught myself bring pulled into a void where nothing really is good, i can make a conscious effort and engage my Will. Yoga in the morning helps. Remembering to breath helps but what does the best is showing up. Going to class. Brushing my teeth. Doing my assignments. These small acts showing up to my work help develop my little will. So when the world seems to big and all of my classes are demanding the major course projects due within 3 days of each other, and i foolishly pick up 2 extra shifts at work that week, i can call upon that my Will power and not push against the world but go with it and hopefully nudge myself in the direction i want and need to go in.
So in these days where assignments are not terribly long, and work is easy and extra curricular projects are just starting, let us tend to these things with gentle focus. Daily practice is a must. Just as one tends a fire, we must maintain a sense of presence. When the crow comes and you need to build the giant festival bon fire, you will know how to manage it because you know everything about the small fire.

Late Summer heat

It's not finished and unedited but i wanted to put something on the blog and i need to go to bed now.

The pea seed pods crack open in the late summer heat. It hadn’t rained in weeks. Rain clouds found their ways northwards and thunder clapped in the distance. The towns people celebrated heartley after these last storms. Yes, a house was brunt by wayward lighting bolts but cisterns were full and fruits were full and ripe. Here, pea pods hung from crisp vines like shutters on windows flung open to let in what cooling breezes there were. The seed that clung to the pods were collected for next years plantings and those that fell to the ground below were quickly snatched up by any number of rodents or creators of flight looking for a quick morsel.

A low bell clanged my way and in turning around I found my husband leading the goats out of the suns intensity and into the barn, where the heat wasn’t nearly as bad. Black flies swirled around my legs. Normally, this is merely a nuisance, but today it was enough to dive me mad. Taking my flaxen skirt, died golden orange, I ruffled it too and fro… vigorously. The flies darted about, leaving my skin and vicinity. Dust was ginergly tossed up into the air and settled back down the ground and my sweaty legs.

After I had stopped tussling my cloths about like a lunatic, the flies returned to infuriate me once again. The buzzed about and landed on my ankles and toes. They zipped up and down my calves and danced on my ankle. Griting my teeth and breathing in as deeply as I could, I tried to become in tune with my present situation. The sun beat down upon my back and slick sweat ran down my neck and flowed to the small of my back. The buzzing rang in my ears and the dancing and biting of flies shocked my nerves.

In my rage and gave out a deep guttural cry, hoping this would elevate the heat or at very least the insect situation.

Boundaries

All this rain is just one more incident on how the element of Water has been entering my life so strongly these last few days. I need to take in more water physically so I can stop having all this water enter my life in other ways. I’ve watched emotion documentaries, had passionate conversations with co-workers, and consciously overstep my own boundaries in regards to my sisters healing process.

A little witchcraft 101:
The cup is the tool of the Water. It has clear boundaries in which the water is held. I have to remember that the size of my cup is determined by me. The waters can run clear or muddy. They can be slow and lazy or torrential and become overwhelming. How we swim in and paddle though these currents is all determined by how well we know our own abilities to handle what life has to offer.

The waters are turbulent right now. I feel like I can’t paddle with the current. I feel the pain of those whose boats are bashed about by life’s currents. And in doing so my boat gets filled with water and I fear drowning. So I have to re-center myself and do the work that is laid before me. Perhaps if I can swim in my life’s waters with grace and power then I can lead by example. I have clear boundaries around myself. I have to keep them there in order to protect myself from drowning in other peoples emotions. They are there for me to remember that in times when I worlds problems seem to big and we aren’t doing enough to fix them that I’m not meant to drink the whole ocean. I can put down my glass and return to it when I can hold more.

I want to have compassion and I do. Empathy was a skill that I had a child and for a time in high school, I replaced my soup tureen with a champagne flute. This severely limited my emotional connections to others. Now, realizing that as a human, I have the capacity to truly feel others pains and happiness’s. At the same time I’m not meant to hold their emotions indefinably. There are times in which we can commiserate and have commission and though water we heal and transform.

When I’m grounded and well fixed in earth (I have to do more grounding work), clear on my work at hand (see my post on True Will) and have open awareness about my senses, then I can hold more water and help others with their emotions. How is this? When I’m secure about where I am, what I’m doing, and how I’m doing it than I don’t fear that I’ll get caught up in others egos and like a old oak or ancient willow, I can withstand the floods. I get really clear about what I can handle and how much I’m willing and able to give and take.

Water keeps us alive. How often is it that you go outside in the pouring rain and feel each drop as it wakes your skin? When was the last time you went puddle jumping. If you haven’t gone cliff jumping/diving, imagine the rush of fear and excitement you would feel in doing so. Water keeps us alive. It enters us, leaves us, and connects us. The world is 75 percent water and so are humans.

What are your boundaries?
What are you capable of holding without drowning?
Are you sailing with or against the currents of life?
Are you able to hold someone while they cry or conversely, share in their excitement?
How big or small is your cup and how full is it?

These are big questions, I know. But when you answer them, in either a large global or life long context or within a particular situation, I hope that they are able to help you gain clarity, hold and transform the world around you into something beautiful or at least know the way to find better waters.

Blessings,
Charles

Red Goose Garden Newsletter

This is from the Fifth edition of the 2010 season Red Goose Gardens Newsletter. It's from the segment 'Meet the Interns'.

Hello all Red Goose Garden Members

First, I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart for being a part of this amazing CSA. Your participation has kept chemicals from entering the ecosystem, supported Thor and all the other interns, and brought organic, local produce to 100’s of people. Thank you!

I’ve been on a great journey since coming to Red Goose Gardens. My home town is Lakeville, MN. A truly great place to grow up! From there, I found my way to the University of Minnesota, Duluth. There I studied Biology with an emphasis on botany. Struggling with chemistry caused me to follow my other academic passion, Women Studies. Within the program, I took a course called Ecofeminism. This class took what I already knew about different aspects of our society that harm the ecosystem, women, and colonized others and really made it the forefront of my academic and professional world. Being already fascinated by plants and horticulture, the topics of alternate agriculture and specifically CSA’s grabbed my full attention. Seeing how food, which is at the very center of our lives, could bring communities together, support farmers, use less land, help protect and restore the surrounding environments being achieved through CSA’s made me so happy that I just had to get involved. Using wwoof.org I found Thor and Red Goose Gardens.

I’ve find myself being completely taken in by this CSA. Riding my bike to work, seeing bald eagles and hawks fly around, watching and being a part of all the beautiful and wonderful things in the field is an experience all the parts of me wished and wanted. That is not to say that everything thing is roses and rainbows (even though both are here at the farm). There are the buffalo gnats that bite and made us bleed and the ever present state bird, the mosquito. The storms and rain made planting the winter squash hell. 20 pounds of mud on each boot is not fun and something I hope to not repeat more than once a year. The summer heat makes 10 hour days really suck. And when the rain doesn’t come and whole beds dry up and the cabbage you planted is dead, makes me wonder if it is even worth it. But then the kill deer and gold finches fly around and the borscht you made for the week tastes so creamy and good (made with beets from the farm of course) makes me remember that it really the work and hardships are all part of the deal.

Losing 25 pounds of excess weight and getting a good deep tan isn’t bad either.

I can’t say how the rest of this summer will be or the future of our agriculture system will look but judging by the past, I can firmly say that it will get better with time, and taste amazing too. For things to improve, it will take visions, dreams and lots of hard work. I will take storms and droughts. It will take more farmers and more members. If we all do our parts, do a little more than we did the year before, take what we learned as kids and adults, and build something in harmony with the nature and ourselves, we can create a system that is something we can be truly proud of. What I am learning here at RGG, I will take with me to Duluth and my classes. I will take it to the next CSA I work at and hopefully to my own CSA someday.

I hope that you find some time to come volunteer at the farm. Come meet me and the fellow interns. If you have any questions, comments, concerns, or just want to chat about CSA’s, plants, agriculture or social justice movements please feel free to contact me at grabu004@d.umn.edu or check out my blog at http://almost-chosen.blogspot.com. Thank you for your support. The farm wouldn’t be here without us.

Green Blessings,

Charles Grabuski

Fire Fly

Opening Space and become aware.
Shining lights, evanescent spirit,
matter in various states of manifestation,
Breath deep,
Gently Hold with Will and Intention

4, 3, 2... 1

Release into all that ever is.
Falling into Abyss and Flying towards Love.

Visions

These flat lands filled with industrial farms (corn, wheat, soybeans, and sugar beets) allow my mind to think of all the possibilities. When a commercial farm of 200 acres brings in about $20 per acre and an organic CSA bring in $8,000 to $15,000 per acre it only makes sense that small, organic, local farms are the way of the future. Not only do they make way more money, but they feed and support the community in which they are embedded.

The ways in which small organic farms help the world are almost immeasurable. They provide a manual, body enriching labor for the farmers and volunteers. These farms act as a place for healthy communities to grow. People learn where their food is grown and how their chicken, cows, pigs, and goats are raised. They know where their eggs and milk come from. Here in the Midwest, many have small orchards of apples and plums. A strong sense of work ethic develops in workers and volunteers. A greater appreciation for hot days and rains storms becomes essential. Bodies slowly mold into tan, sinuous, and glorious reflections of hard labor in the elements. Trees provide a home for bird and insects. The surrounding forests are the home to deer, small mammals, hawks, and owls. Near by waters run clean and free of chemicals.

I want to take you now to a vision I’ve been working with. In this season if fire, check out my earlier posts on the solstice, I’ve been cultivating not only crops but my internal fire. My will is burning strong these days. Not only to I use this fire to show up to my work but in the down times I’ve been writing. This is part of my Will, to write. I’ve been writing about my vision of the future. It may sound utopian but knowing farm work and all the hard labor and potential downfalls of crop failure, I assure you that the reality is not as romantic as the language we bestow upon such futures. With this caveat, I invite you to come gather around my campfire as I tell a story and weave a spell.

Imagine a farm. Rich brown soil smelling of hummus and manure. It’s midsummer and the tomatoes are just coming in. Farmers are in the fields harvesting all sorts of produce. Red, green and yellow lettuces and dark green spinach leaves as big as your hand fill woven baskets made by the town’s Weavers Guild. You pass by pales of strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries; sweet and cold after the morning rain. Empty rows where chard, beets, and radishes were just yesterday are now being prepared for a cover crop. Clover and buckwheat are bring tilled under by tracker and plow horse in order to in get late season crops, broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage, and other roots. Yellow summer squash and green zucchinis burst out of vine bushes. They scream “pick me”. Rows of eggplants dangle tiny purple, white and striped fruits. Everywhere you look, vibrant life explodes out of soil that quivers with excitement.

Off in the distance, the forest brushes right next the enclosed garden. Deer peer in, licking their lips at the greens, so ripe and ready.

Raised beds hold annual, biannual and perennial herbs. You find herbs for the kitchen, the medicine cabinet, and for dyeing cloth. A fence keeps in sheep, goats, llamas, and a few cows. The pasture connects to a barn at this farm and to another barn farm next to this one. To support the community of 1,000 people there are three farms, run by a few families and many volunteers. The old farm houses now houses the interns that come from all over the country. They’ve come to learn about organic farming and how a community can be nearly self sufficient. The Blacksmith guild comes to the farm to work on repairing hand tools and fixing trackers. The Weavers come to collect the wool, herbs, and other materials gathered from the forest. Back in town, in their building, they dye the raw materials and spin it into beautiful skeins of yarn and tread in which they loom into fabrics. On this Saturday, the Healers Guild has come with a group of high school aged students to teach them about herbal medicine and acupuncture. A group of older women sit around a table shelling peas and sipping wine made from grapes from the vineyard.

Children gather around the chicken coop and pig pen. Couples and groups of friends come in from the field caring stirrup hoes and baskets almost spilling over with cherry tomatoes, squash, cabbage and broccoli. Everyone from the community is welcome to the harvest. Members from Cheese Makers Guild come back in the evening to milk the goats and cows. You over heard them laughing as they enter the milking shed. The interns retire for the evening, greeted at the farm house by the farmers holding beers. The smells of grilled vegetables seasoned with spices, traded for by baskets of wild rice, perfumes the warm air.

The local Pagan group begins to set up a bonfire for this month’s full moon ritual. This being the ‘Full Hay Moon’ they will bless the hay fields and other crops coming in now. In the morning, one of the Christian groups might hold a service at the farm.

As you can see, when a community grows around the farm, all groups invested in its success, everyone works to its benefit, we don’t need to have the power struggles of large companies or other outside forces. Things can become better, strong, and more beautiful. The old traditions, of well made, hand crafted goods and services once again can exist. Clean waters can coincide with human nature. The earth can be rich, black, and healthy. Clearly we don’t need chemical fertilizers, pesticides, and heavy machinery. Yes it takes work…. Hard work. But the rewards are immeasurable. This work creates strong communities, strong families, strong bodies, and strong ecosystems.

So how do we take my vision, which is the vision of so many people throughout the world, and make it manifest. This is a very long, a complex answer. One that is far to long for a blog post. If you want resources to make this dream the slightest bit more of a reality; check out your local CSA. A simple Google search can find the one closest to you. If you want to volunteer or intern at an organic farm, check out http://www.wwoof.org/.

I have shared my hope for a better and brighter future of coexistence and harmony with nature, our own bodies, and each other. What does your future look like? How are you working to bring it into reality?

Solstice Fire II

So with the fire in the sky at its height and the fires in our lives being fueled by this cosmologicical occurrence. I see so many ways in which the season of summer is the season of the element Fire. Not only is it ridiculously hot some days but this is also the time of bon fires, cooking outdoors, getting great amount of work done, taking time for pleasure, doing what we and doing what we desire.

All of the word I’ve just mention fall under the heading of Fire. For a quick cosmologic break down of these and other words, I like to place them on or around the third chakra. Firstly I would say that with the element of fire comes the power of that element, which is Will or “to Will”. I right Will with a capital W for this is our larger will. The Divine Will. The work of this god in the Feary Tradition or in ceremonial witchcraft Knowledge and Conversation of One’s Own Guardian Angle (with was never a phrase which was meant to be taken literally but here we are). This our Will in the center of our third chakra I like to place the words Need and What on two points of the triangle and the word Desire where they converge. Just below the third but above the second chakra I like to place Passion.

Now there is a lot here. I’ve come to this diagram of the third chakra though studying various witchcraft traditions, basic charka study, contemplation and meditation. Wither these attributes of the third chakra are the petals on it, I’m not sure. But it works for me. I encourage you to work with this diagram, wither it be in mediation or contemplation. Ask yourself, how does my small will (getting up, brushing your teeth, going to work, showing up on time) fuel your larger Will (helping the poor, curing the sick, spending time with the elderly, growing food sustainably, what ever your True Will is)? How do your needs (food, water, shelter, clothing, love) and your wants (insert bigger wants (no oh I want some chocolate or a new pair of shoes) lead you to desires? How do your passions fuel your Will? Play around with these words and how they are all interconnected.

Other things to ask:
~Am I ignoring my desires because I cant accept my needs and wants?
~How am I engaging by Will by using my will?
~How am I not engaging by will and how is it affecting my Will?
~What wood are you feeding inner fire (what are you eating, how much exercise are you getting, how much down time do you give yourself so you don’t burn out)?
~Am I breathing deeply, giving my fire enough Oxygen.

These are just a few questions to ask yourself regarding your inner fire and your True Will. Perhaps you are at the point in life asking yourelf “Why am I here? What is my True Will”. These are very important questions as well. If this is your case, then take time to breath into the still place within your body, clam your mind however you chose to do so (mantra, chant, prayer) and listen to your Spirit. What is it telling you your Purpose is.

What makes your fire burn white hot?

Solstice Fire I

Summer solstice comes and goes every year. Since I’ve been observing it’s significance to our lives, it has rained (2009) and I’ve had to work all day (2010). But even now, in seeing it is the beginning of summer and the fire season here in the Midwest I’ve come to accept that for the last two years my dreams of a solstice celebration with bounties of food, bon fires, chants, and dancing are still yet a few years away. So for the time and times being, I’ll have to celebrate Litha in my own way.

Yesterday I started out by giving an offering of corn meal to the elements, to the Earth Mother, to the summer sky, to the Fiery Sun, and to Artemis who is helping me with some endeavors. I then rode my bike to work and passed by the hawk who looks for her breakfast on the electrical pole everyday. We flew side by side for a while, like most mornings, then she turned around and I continued down the road. I worked all day under the sun. I took some time after I ate my lunch to meditated and connect with the power of this day. I felt stillness. It was like a iron or copper pole held the sun directly above the earth. The sliver wheel had once again come to a point, and I felt the heat of summer descended into the earth from the sun. Photons of light made into a brilliant show of plant life which lives rise to bugs and birds and all of nature. She is the conduit for all that is and full of life.

Later that day, I sat in the yard and watched the sun fall below the horizon. The moon made her way up into the sky and a gentle breeze cooled my sun tanned arms. The sun disappeared leaving a gray blue sky and the sliver wheel continued on. Going inside and to my bed, the moon cast her light on to my skin though my south facing window. The wind cooled the heated attic and I drifted into sleep. In my dreams I laughed and woke myself up. Lord only knows what was so funny. Returning to sleep, I dreamed of my Aunt Kathy. Weather it was her spirit meeting me on some plane of consciousness or my memory of her playing on the screen of my minds eye, I’m not sure. She looked different, more youthful with red and blond hair. I cry every time she appears in my dreams. Perhaps one day I will stop my emotions for filling me with sadness for her passing or joy with meeting up with her again will be able to receive her intention for apparition.

Storm Blessing

Blessed Rain and Wind
I welcome you with open arms and open heart
Come and wash away pain and hurt
Come and fill my cup with blessing from above.
Come and water my creative endeavors
Come and refresh the well of my spirit.

Blessed Thunder and Lightning
I welcome you with open arms and open heart
Come and shake my foundations
Come and light up my life
Come and charge the air
Come and waken my fire

Rain and Wind and Lightning and Thunder
I welcome you and bless you as you come and go
Blessed Be

A day of scents

My day started off with rain. The gentle sound of rain on leaves and grass woke me before the harsh beep of my alarm. The smell of wet grass swept though the attic, cool and calm; gently releasing my sore muscles from sleep. I rest in bed for another hour, a well deserved day off. 13 hours of farm labor and to little water, makes for sore tendons and muscles. Buffalo gnats create red welts on my tan and freckled arms and legs. They itch and sting as I scratch and rub in the oatmeal and Shea butter lotion.

My breakfast, whole oats with maple syrup cinnamon and milk feels good to by body and spirit. My mind, worn from a semester of science and studies does not rests this summer. There will be no papers or exams but the acquisition of knowledge based in soil and chlorophyll with be my studies. The fields, my chalk board. My teacher, Thor and nature. The harvest, my tests and final.

I cook up my chicken. Olive oil, onions and garlic perforate the house as I clean the chicken. In go basil, parsley, cumin, salt, rosemary and thyme from the garden. Clean water from the fridge and 200 degrees on the burner. 2 hours later the house smells like a home rather than dust and I’m the proud owner of a bowl of perfect chicken and a gallon of chicken stock. Add home made mayonnaise; a little too much olive oil, some fresh spring onions and the rest of a box of penne make a pasta salad fit for royalty.

Today is laundry day for me. I take my clothes from the washer and hang them on the clothes line. My bandanna and underwear hang like prayer flags in the late spring breeze. The sun shines down on me and I am thankful. Carried in the air is the pungent scent of lilac and honeysuckle, both in full bloom. I offer corn meal to the spirits of air and water, to the plants and the earth, to the wind and the sun. I give to Sister Spring and myself. I bless this land. She has been broken but today is for healing though thanks.

The sky now clouds over and threatens with rain. I contemplate my next move. Grab the almost dry laundry off the line now or take a chance and wait till rain starts to fall and run out and gather dry clothes before the process needs to be repeated? A thunder head passes over all of Shelly and I feel the air shift. The quick updraft of wind pulls at my shirt and hair. The bandanna dance and twist around the line. I feel the fabric, it’s dry and soft. It smells of like lilacs. Wonderful! I take my t-shifts, tang-tops and headbands off the wire. As I’m folding my clothes a woman leisurely drives by and we exchange waves and smiles. The air is still and my damp pants hang there, limp. The once grass and dirt covered denim a faded dark blue. The earth, shadowed by clouds, I decided not to temp faith, less I be the middle of a project or the skies open up as if by a faucet, and take down the moist clothes as well.

As luck would have it, rain did not fall all day long. The sky lit up with lighting and thunder at night but the ground remained dry, unlike my pants.

To be or not to be

Riding through the Red River Valley is rather monotonous. Granted, every place has its intrinsic natural beauty and spirit but being still for a moment, grounding and centering, I can feel the scar that modern agricultural has inflicted on this land. Prairie and forest, leveled and ditched has created a flattened landscape unlike one I’ve ever seen. I’ve climbed mountains and seen valleys rise and fall for miles, I’ve been surrounded by waters so expansive and deep they call my very soul to retreat with my core lest it fall over board, but this is different. It pulls at thoughts of sustenance through destruction and an unsustainable cycle.

The sky encapsulates us like dome. Green, blue and white surround my visual perspective and I shift into a druidic mysticism. The sky, such light blue it tips on white, pulls my consciousness to the realms suited for spirits of air, totems of birds and my beloved Frigg, Goddess of Prophecy and Spinner of Clouds. Shifting my gaze lower I encounter a world of green; Deep greens of forest and alien electrics from grasses. I’m now among the land, sustainable life force, sun light made manifest though Mother Earth. A red-wing-black bird perched atop a dry cat tail. His silky black body reminds me of the ever present blackness, the collective wave length of the rainbow. He takes of into the field just sprouting some form of grain. I wonder where this seed came from, be it ConAgra or Monsanto, or is has the farmer been lucky enough to save the year from last years harvest. Probably not but ‘hope is a renewable resource”.

Going to an organic market should renew this hope? Huddled in the back corner of Fargo is Tocky. It is small, low lit and low ceilings, smelling mildly of patchouli. Store owners with black sunglasses give off an air of pretentiousness, almost unnoticeable and unwanted. Even now, heady from scents of sweet orange, eucalyptus, and lemon balm, I can’t help but feel like a quaff this as I walk though Cash Wise food, my basket filled to the brim with organic milk, a whole chicken (free-range on family farms), raw almonds, and extra virgin olive oil. I feel almost guilty for buying whole milk from KEMPS. Or that my onions and canned tomatoes aren’t organic or local. Looking at my reusable back next to the plastic bag dispenser I can’t help feel a sense of holier-than-thou.

Shouldn’t being organic, local, all natural, and all the other adjectives we place on good food make one feel whole? I feel these words are tied to things such as yoga studious, art galleries, and fancy wines. I long for drums, and soil, and the smell of bon fires. I want the rich, red hummus of the earth underneath my finger nails and wear it as badge of honor... and to be humble. Of all of Aunt Kathy’s advice, it was to remain humble. Being low to the ground should be humble. Forget the fancy china and black tie events. Give me a meal in wooden bowls, good local beer and friends. Yes the flavors of foods are exciting and intense but should there be such a chauvinistic attitude surrounding the words ‘organic’ or even ‘European import’.

But here is the saving grace. Do your best. If one can’t get local, organic, vegan, free-range, then pick one. Starhawk and Barbara Kingsolver and so many more never said ‘strive for purity’, for who can achieve purity. Purity is a goal for Evangicals and the like. I know nothing is pure and shouldn’t be. It wasn’t meant to be pure. Since the beginning it a been a mingling and evolution of elements. So end with the principle of evolution in mind, do the best to survive and as a human, be creative.

New Begingins in the Flattest Place on Earth, the Red River Valley

Hey everyone. I’m going to use my blog as a way for you to know what I’m up to. No this isn’t a way to you to know my every waking moment but because we can’t spend the summer together and it will probably be at least till the fall before I see you, I’d like you to know how my adventures at Red Goose Gardens are going.
Firstly, I shout out to my Aunt and Uncle for giving me a gift certificate for a yarn shop. YEAHHH!!!! I now have several wonderful shades of green, 100% wool, yarn. I’m going to attempt to make a delicious poncho out of them. It’ll be a bit warm to wear now that it is like 80 degrees out everyday but come fall and winter; it will make a lovely addition to my wardrobe. Other things I wish to accomplish this summer, besides learning how a farm and a CSA works, is to finish The Mists of Avalon, The Shack (THANK YOU AMY), and The Lacuna. I know that sounds like a lot but when you get done with 8 hours of farm work, damn all I want to do is have a beer and read a good book. 
Moving in went well. There was a bit of a concern when it came to squeezing a queen pillow top mattress into a full size bed frame but it worked out… I think. The full size fitted sheet ripped a bit as we were attempting to make the bed. Oh well we’ll see how it all works out. I’m staying in the top level of the house and it gets quite warm up there I might be picking up some ice packs and a fan at the store tomorrow.
My fellow interns are really cool. The couple is from Oregon an have worked at a goat farm CSA. Totally legit. One of them has dreads and she said if I wanted to do it too, she would be willing to help! Sweet! The other guy is from North Carolina. He seams like an interesting guy. Not exactly sure what he wants to do but hey, who at 20 does. He’s turning 21 on a Saturday in June. Hopefully it’s not on Annie’s graduation weekend, cause I would like to go to the bar with all them.
Today we transplanted 3 flats, that’s over 600 tomato plants into six packs, harvested a whole bag of asparagus, removed the seed heads from rhubarb plants, and fixed up part of the fence that got knocked over because of the flood. And that was all between 1:00 and 7:30. We then ran down to this gas station/ice cream store and got some delicious soft serve. A great ending to a very exciting day. Well not really the end cause I’m checking e-mails, surfing the web and writing this. Hopefully ya’ll check in and of course I’ll be on facebook and my e-mail all summer long. Totally have the Wi-Fi connection. Look UMD housing, they have Wi-Fi all the way out here in the flattest place on earth.
Sending all my Love and Blessings,
Charles

In the begining...

This was transcribed by me from a podcast, I believe that it was an episode of speaking of faith with Krista Tippet speaking to a Jewish woman. I wish remembered which one it was but this story of the creation struck me deep enough to open a word document and write her words down verbatim. I thought of this the other day and found that doc. file. Here is an amazing story of creation that doesn't deal with any classical elements, no gardens of good or evil, no ever expanding or contracting universes, or anthropomorphic deities.

"In the beginning. There was only the holy darkness. The Ine Sofe. The source of life. Then in the course of history, at a moment in time, this world, this world of a thousand thousand things, emerged from the heart of the holy darkness as a great ray of light. Then there was an accident. The vesicles containing the light of the world, the wholeness of the world, broke. And the wholeness of the world , the light of the world , was scattered into a thousand thousand fragments of light. And they fell into all events and all people, where they remain deeply hidden, until this very day.
Now according to my grandfather, this whole of the human race is a response to this accident. We are here because we are born with the capacity to find the hidden light with in all events and all people. To lift it up and make it visible once again. And there by restore the innate wholeness of the world. And this task is called Te Cuno Lume in Hebrew. It’s the restoration of the world. And this is not done by making a huge difference. It’s by healing the world that touches you."

unnamed

How did I come to be here, out in the middle of the sea? I always kept the land just to my left by day. The question is as much rhetorical as it is important. Of course I drifted out during the night. I was rocked into a genital sleep by my watery lovers night times motion. I last remember Inanna in the sky, one before the new moon. Her silver sliver winked at me as if to say “oh the things I have planned for you”. I was always told never to question the will of the gods but damned I’ll be if I shant rail to the heaven and earth out of pure human existence.

Hammer and A Nail

The indigo girls told me to get a hammer and a nail. So i did just that. With both hammer and nail in my hand i stared at my text books and list of assignments and nothing happened. I tried beating the books with the hammer but that just dented the cover. I tried scratching the nail in my list but that just tore the paper into little pieces. I then tried nailing the paper to the table but now i need to get a new notebook and table. So i put the hammer down and grabbed a new piece of paper and a pencil and started studding. This was much more effecitve at getting stuff done. Good try girls. I'll attempt your method again when i need to build a house or something. I think that will be a better use of both tools.

Anticipation

March is a bastard. He will trick you with sunshine and breezes that sing of summer sunshine. When in reality the night brings in frosts and a reminder that you still live in a Midwestern state. The brown-gray grass, that smells of mud and moving water, changes at a snails pace to gray green to small patches of brilliant emerald. But trees and shrubs still hold on to their winter apparel. I can’t help but feel the heavy anticipation for the appearance of buds on the maple trees or the maroon beginnings of lilac blossoms. Last years perennials lay in winter-worn dried out clumps. The salvia whose rich green and purple flowers are now a mass of gray twigs and dusty leaves. If I was to be having a garden this year there would be plenty of broccoli, tomato, pepper and egg plant seedlings under the light table now. But my parents passion for vegetable gardening is much less than mine, as is many peoples; so the full spectrum lights will not make there debut to my room this year. In stead of the pallets of dirt and seed, all I will have this March is a small container with aconite, just taken out of the simulated winter within the refrigerator. Hope fully by May or June a seedling or two will sprout.

Signs of hope are everywhere. Even though the skies may be clouded over in a steely gray sheet, the powerful sun breaks through in the late afternoons and in the evenings casting a violent band of hot pinks, vibrant yellows, and intense reds across the western horizons. This light brings the end of snow banks and stimulates the growth of the new year to begin. Strawberries poke their three lobbed leaves though the hay layer of last fall. The yarrow and yucca are already bright green. The gray stems of last years flowers towering over head the new growth call me to grab the garden clippers and start the annual perennial trimming. Covering the kitchen scraps in this years’ compost pile goes old growth and a few handfuls of water logged leaves from the ground. The apples that weren’t collected and left to rot on the floor over winter now have rings of mold holding them to the ground. These get chucked down the hill where all undesirable compost goes to decay.

Irises all ready have six inches of green blade like leaves above the ground. Not sure the delphinium and columbine made it though the winter. It’ll be a couple weeks before I will know for sure. I planted both last year. One was bough off a discount table in the back corner of a Home Depot Garden Center. It was 5 dollars and only had a few leaves, reminiscent of grape vine foliage. Of course my ‘Charlie Brown’ complex wouldn’t let me leave the store without some overwhelming sense of guilt, if not passive murder, if I did not give this plant a fighting chance. But now with the return of spring, Jack Frost might have done the job that my neglect could have done 6 months earlier. The words of Barbara Kingslover come to mind with “Hope is a renewable resource”. Of course the frosted mornings and wind swept nights diminish the hope I have for warmer weather. But the days getting brighter and greener everyday, it is a constant refilling of hope for morning glory blooms, sweet corn, savory tomatoes, and drinks around a bon fire with friends and family.

February

*Work in progress*

It’s mid February here and though the days are bright and the sun melts the edges of snow banks 8 feet tall, the wind is bitter cold as ever. The Full Snow Moon lights my way as I walk back to my on campus apartment. I know that here in Duluth it is suppose to be cold now, but as a botanist and a one who doesn’t care for foot wear, I’m getting a bit sick of the cold and wish for more photosynthesis in my place of dwelling

I long for the late days of April when the trees are budding and the grass give off the cold musty smell right after a few days of clouds and rain. The bold colors of tulips, daffodils and crocus play on a backdrop of sage green prairie grass in my reoccurring dreams. The first tender leaves of salad and fresh mozzarella, home made of course, with sprigs of borage with its cucumber like taste makes a light, fresh, and sweetly orgasmic meal. The creeks run full and fast with the melting snow and I sit besides them as tiny insects dance in the waters. The spiral grass homes the wasps whom will soon take to the skies and make their papery nests among the trees. Birds sing love songs with the returning sun and by Beltane will have made nests with their companions. I sit among my brothers and sisters and revel in the turning of the earth. Crow sits among the high branches and draws my attention to the world above. The great blue sky, so open, so vast, sprawls from horizon to horizon; encompassing all half of the cosmosphere. Feathery clouds dissipate into the azure.