Violence

“In a post-Sept. 11 world, I thought the prudent use of violence could be therapeutic.”
–Richard Choen, a Washington Post columnist, on his support for the invasion of Iraq.

Is violence really the answer to changing governments? Perhaps. Surely violence and militaristic action getting things done but is it really the best way? When putting people in immanent danger they tend to react. There is collateral damage though. In the case of revolution, it is both peoples’ lives and the ecosystems that get damaged. How therapeutic are the sounds of three hundred and eighty bombs (Klein 419). Is the image of a war-torn environment really as serene as clear flowing rivers and natural foliage? I don’t think so. Violence is only therapeutic to an individual who doesn’t know the meanings of violence, or to someone in which violence is all they’ve ever known. Sorry Mr. Choen but you are wrong.

War is an old answer in my book. People called for an end of war during the Vietnam War. Here we are 40 years later and more countries are feeling the effects of war then ever before. Yes this is a time of great uprisings and revolutions. It is great to see people stepping into their power and taking back their land and their governments. At the same time, it is sad to see that the power of a countries people needs to be met with such force when they ask for change. The United States constitution starts out with “we the people…”. I don’t know for other counties what their mission statements contain but I wouldn’t doubt there that far of from ours. When the people say enough it enough, this declaration of change should not be confronted with such extreme violence.

But it so often is. As we’ve been seeing in Egypt, Jordan, and Libya violence is often the answer to confrontation. There are many causalities. People are killed. Cultures and histories are lost by looting and destruction of museums and libraries. Ecosystems destroyed by fires and bombings. War is tragedy and the collateral damage seems to be worth it every time. I really wish to see a peaceful revolution someday. I really believe it can be done. Maybe this is cause I don’t wish to make human life a sacrifice. Life is sacred enough without it being used as a blood-offering to the gods. I’m an idealist I know but for now I feel that my ideals for a better, more peaceful earth are the only things keeping me sane while reading the newspapers.

Layers

Here is my mask
Over my mask is your mask of me
These layers; onions, leeks, garlic
Pungent, thick, and flavorful
Covering things like cinnamon, juniper, and cream
You didn’t order it,
but here I am.
This queer soup, the chefs’ special
Tentatively tasting, finding so many flavors
textures, fragrances.

Here I shall remove both masks.
These ingredients came from somewhere.
They are a part of a larger whole.
Behind the fragments, pieces, you taste
landscapes, peoples, dirt’s and clays.
These are wonders which extend beyond
the palette, the foreground.
There are tools handed down
from grandmother to grandson.
There are wild, untamed creatures
whom roam from field to forest.
Blood, Beaks, Feathers, Fur and Flesh.
Each animal, plant, and mineral
Sacred.

But all you will taste is onions and garlic.

The Fig Tree

I dreamt of a fig tree. It was a scraggly thing. Tall and lanky with green and brown blushed fruits. There was a man, my age perhaps. His short blond hair and pale completion spoke nothing of his knowledge. He was attractive for sure but his demeanor was not of pleasure but of urgency. His message was of warning.

“Don’t eat the fruit”

There was nothing wrong it. Most of the figs were unripe and still hard but there were a few brown pare shaped lobes, hanging in small bunches from the lower limbs. The tree needed water but the mass of unripe fruits told of a bountiful year.

Reaching for fig, just above my head; I was stopped by this man. The message was the same.

“Don’t eat the fruit”

Holding on to the fig, still attached to the tree, I asked Why?

He searched for an answer. He looked at the tree but it seamed as if his gaze passed through the branches and into the sky. Looked back at me, he said the tree was dirty and that the bugs had gotten to the fruit.

Sure the tree was a little run-down looking but nothing a good pruning and better attention the soil wouldn’t fix. The bugs, they weren’t a problem either. There were a few small worms here and there. I picked one off a clump of unripe figs and squished it between my fingers. Showing my worm splattered thumb and pointer finger to the man, he leaned back in mild discussed.

“If you want to eat, you can’t be afraid to get dirty,” I told him.

Wiping my fingers on my jeans and finally pulling the ripe fig from the bough, I saw the man’s face sink into disappointment. I wondered why he would be so opposed to the fruit. The tree looked healthy and the surrounding vegetation looked as well. I took a bite of the soft fruit. Its delicate flesh and sweet fragrance filled my mouth as much as any dream fruit could. It was nothing out of the ordinary but still the man reacted as if I had committed a grave crime. Perhaps I had. There were no other people around. The grove was thick with plant life and it didn’t seam tamed as a garden would. Still, the fruit was sweet and fresh. Ultimately, enjoyable seeing how my body lay back in the dark, cold nights of a northern Minnesota February. Here in this dream place, some one was alive and some one was dying.

[2011]

Your Great Work

We all have to work. By this I mean we all must produce. We produce carbon dioxide, sweat and other excrement’s simply by being alive. Western society says we must get a job to produce, to be effective members of the tribe. Jobs can come in many forms and it’s my belief that everyone has a purposeful job. This job is part of your ‘Great Work’ or your destiny. This work can take many forms as well; From creating great pieces of art or literature, cooking meals for your family, teaching children or other adults, or plowing fields.

So how does one know what their ‘True Will’ or ‘Great Work’ is? It comes from within. When you do something and it speaks to your soul. It completes you. It’s the activity that you do late into the night and get up the next morning wanting, willing to continue. It is pleasurable, not all the time, but over all one finds great joy and deep satisfaction at doing the labor. At times it might frustrate you or exhaust you to the point of fatigue. Ultimately, it is filling, enriching, and what calls you to action. It is not always the bootstrapping process which drains our energy. If some situation is continuously draining or causing bouts of excessive fatigue, then this is not the work you were meant to do. Your ‘Great Work’ is right there waiting for you. Every moment is just another perfect opportunity to do what your heart desires.

Take the next minute or too to reflect on what work or works make you whole or give you joy. Have you done them today? Are social pressers causing you to dismiss these desires as folly or invaluable? What would you have to stop doing in order to do this work? What are you willing to do today to get you closer to that goal?

Breathe in love.
Breathe out connection.

Related posts:
Solstice Fire II

Questions and Chickens

While temporary living at my parents house over winter break, I’m continually bombarded by a multitude of questions. They range from the relatively benign ‘What you want for dinner?’ or ‘Did you pick up after last night?’ asked by my mother and father. More serious questions are raised by them as well. “What are you’re plans for the summer?” “After college, you’re …?”Both sets of questions are personal. Just as personal are the queries asked by the world around me. Books received on Christmas, our changing political demographic, even the streets and gas lines seem to be asking, “How exactly do you plan on fixing this place?”

This place being my familial situation, the monster that is ‘the suburbs’, and the world as whole needs fixing? This question really goes without asking for sure but the emphasis of the question is on the ‘how’. My mercurial mind wants to spring forth, offering ideologies and principles of Ecofeminism and permaculture ethics. Though threads of these ideals run though our national and global consciousness, I’m hard pressed to find any leaders or people in positions of great influence espousing anything remotely sustainable or egalitarian. I’ve grown hard and calloused by viewing the globalization of this world suck land and people dry and the destruction of marine ecosystems left and right. The refusal of aid to our brothers and sisters based on race, class, sex, gender, sexual orientation, ability, age or any other number of identifiers and classifications has caused me too lose a lot of faith in the human race thus far. This is not say that I view our world as fallen or doomed. I’m merely bitter, cynical, jaded and changeable. Anyone willing to step forward in the name of love and justice has my full support.

I do not have the skill set or frame of mind needed for international politics or diplomacy. I wish to see the world first hand eventually but that day is far from now. Until then I want to stay informed on issues, perhaps formulate my own options, and implore the classical power of earth, silence; less I join the ranks of the hypocrites that so frequent our government, air waves and lives. So closer to home I roam.

Over the last few years we’ve all heard voices calling for change and to have hope. We have cried for change from the beginning of time. We’ve lost and regained hope time and time again. These truths are innate and I don’t see them as great revolutionary chants. Perhaps it is rebellion that needs to be shouted from the pulpits and discussed over dinner tables. Rebellion causes fear in people’s hearts and it is not my goal to create more terror in people’s lives. This would be cruel and so I caveat the profession of a rebellion with saying rebellion by imploring moderation, limits, and critical thinking. These aren’t limits imposed by governments but by the self. We believe that we have anything we can afford. An entitlement has been cast over our minds. Instant gratification though the advent of the internet and sequent technologies allows us to reach forth and have anything we can afford. And if ‘everyone has one be me’ then by majority rule, you as well are entitled to one. I do not include basic human rights of food, water, shelter, love, among others in this entitlement mindset but things that are not nessacary to a relatively stress free life. There are two ways about this. Create complete comfort or create only what is necessary. Again, I do not wish for this to include government or authoritarian intervention, but a sense of what is ethical, moral, or personally right for me and who I am affecting by my choice of consumption. This being said, the way I and many other people across this earth consume, a process of take and give, needs to be re-evaluated. What is valued needs to be part of the conversation. How we live our lives, what we get and what we give are the core of this discussion.

When oil companies ask to drill and expand their monopoly; they say they have to drill unless Americans are willing to make a drastic lifestyle change. Three years ago the American public voted for change. It’s only within the last month that the majority of changes have been implemented. For this I’m glad. Finally some thing is being done. But I can’t help but feel like the changes are done in the nick of time. Is this the kind of system we really want to have. Only when the faced with immanent dead lines does anything get done. Apparently when we shift the responsibility to change from ourselves to our leaders, hope is something to be desired.

What do we fear a drastic lifestyle change would bring? Who would this lifestyle change effect? In our current system, probably those who could not afford to keep what they already have. Is it fair to ask anyone to implement a lifestyle change of limits? I’m not sure but I still have to ask, what would you be willing to share in order for others who have less to have access to more? Would you be willing to give up four bed rooms, two stories, and two baths for something a little more efficient? For those in subsidized housing or in college dormitories, we know what it’s like to live off of little. And this is not what I’m asking to people to a scribe to, it is merely the images of housing situations when the words efficiency are called into consideration. There are other options. Instead of buying eggs from a grocery store which distributes them though another company which gets the eggs from the farm. Wear house would be a better word for such places. If I could be so bold as to offer a few suggestions for radical rebellion.

For eggs, two or even three neighbors could build a chicken coop, no larger than the size of the tool shed in your back yard. Responsibilities for cleaning, feeding and egg collection can be divided between households. A book or two and a weekend project are all that would be needed for the initial start up. Ten chickens between two or three families would provide an abundance of ‘farm’ fresh eggs everyday. This would limit the amount of power of the agribusiness and decrease your carbon foot print. Even still, what if two or three houses can take down the fences between them and build one encasing all their backyards. Build a shelter along onside of the houses for two goats. Fresh milk every day. Again a few books and a weekend for start up and shared responsibility create stronger communities and increase the empowerment of the neighborhood. What build community and friendship better than shoveling poop or collecting eggs. Maybe meals shared from the chickens and the produce grown from the manure.

I understand that many cities have ordinances against livestock in residential areas. I’ve seen places where this privilege to have goats, cows, and chicken (among other animals deemed inappropriate for suburban living) has been grandfathered into so some households. There are ways in which one can have chickens and goats in their back yards. Generally there is a process by which neighborhood consent is needed. In the spirit of community building and respect for others living situations, this is a no brainer and hopefully is done regardless of policy. If in the case of laws out right restricting such animal husbandry, then I implore a certain amount of civil disobedience. Do it anyway. This can seem childish or brash but in the words of Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, “Well-behaved women rarely make history”. Similarly, if we not only want have delicious local food and reclaim some power over our lives then sometimes we have to make a little noise. Besides, who wouldn’t want to be known as the crazy-chicken lady or those people with the goats?

With this change from one way of accessing various products to another there are many obstacles to face. As mentioned local laws are one and neighbors are another. Where there is a will there is a way. One person can rarely change the system. And this is what I’m getting at. It takes a community to enact great changes to society. Before the world wars, the globalization, and the individualization of this country, we lived more agrarian lives. No we all shouldn’t run out and start farm, though we do need more farmers that is for sure. This agrarian life meant we had to rely on our neighbors to help get things done. Harvesting and child rising was a community effort. It still is to an extent. Who’s community is growing and harvesting your food? Are you a part of your child’s schooling? In the 1960’s and 1970’s and even to today there are efforts to reclaim communities and live more conscious lives. These endeavors were and are truly great. Here in the suburbs where the grass is green (or white as it winter now) and SUV’s rule the pavement, this sense of greatness has been transferred from the whole to the individual. Everyone losses in this scenario. Those who don’t have as much as some feel the entitlement. The earth losses from all the greed of individuality. Corporations make out with more money than ever thought humanly possible. It really is time to make a change. Clearly we can’t really on elected official to do the work for us. Lets take responsibility for the mistakes we’ve made or our parents made and do some real work.

As a favorite second grade teacher once said, “Take chances, make mistakes, get messy.” You everyone makes mistakes. That is human nature. Messes get cleaned up everyday. Sometimes the mess is chicken poop. Personally, I rather clean up poop than have to clean up another river because of agribusiness run-off. It is the taking chances part that is the hardest and this too in your nature. People have taken chances and look where it got them. To the new world. To the moon! Taking chances requires knowledge. Know what you’re diving into. It takes guts. What will people say? There will be nay-sayers and people who won’t understand. But does that really matter. I bet you would more often than not have people asking for a few eggs or to try the goat’s milk. People are inquisitive and if perceived with a loving mind and open heart, will often surprise you.

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.