Earth, Art, and Therapy or Was it Just a Parade?

The last few weeks have been a bit of an emotional roller coaster. The high point was definitely the Ojai Fourth of July parade. I dropped the pebble of the idea one morning at the farm a few months back. What about a float for the Farmer and the Cook? Turns out Steve had never participated in the parade when tends toward the highly traditional and patriotic in the best small town way. Lots of equestrians, cheerleaders, cub scouts, civic groups and churches. We'd sat through it a few times over our summers here. The locals put out chairs along Main Street to claim their viewing space up to a week ahead, which speaks to local pride, not boredom, since there are tons of things to do here.
Johanna   was my partner in organizing this feat, since before this parade gambit I was never sure exactly how to read Steve on such things. Would this insult his semi-hippie soul? Be too silly for his elder organic statesmanlike role in the general community? Take too much time from surfing? Johanna broached the question to him AND agreed to be our "Parade Marshall" in the four double-sided pages of paperwork we had to fill out to be in the parade. Steve coughed up the $35 fee to be a "commercial/auto" entry, borrowed a hay wagon and got Greg to wire the truck for sound. Then the fun really began.

This parade prep business was the most fun I'd ever had, beginning with the giant paper mache heirloom tomato.
Everyone picked their totem and created their costume. I was delighted to provide studio space for what turned out to be a rollicking good time of creating fun and beauty out of nothing.
Steve transformed himself into "King Karat," (the carrot is the 'gold standard' of the organic farmer, Steve tells us often) Olivia (the inspired cook of the Farmer and the Cook) felt called by the spirit of Breakfast Radish. We had butterflies galore, including the Momma Butterfly, Nora, and Strawberry Jon, her consort. Several peppers, farmers, a flower and Bridget of Broccoli fame. We had signs and music, a re-write of "Woodstock" by our own band, Tofu Fighters. We regaled the delighted spectators  from speakers mounted on a hay wagon pulled by the farm truck driven by Michael, John's brother and his wife, Cindy (smiling in the truck cab picture). I made a lettuce hat, homage to the sparkly, leafy stuff, which though in abundance at the time, is far from my favorite vegetable. I wore an apron, my nod to balance, I like to embrace both farming and cooking, after all.
This week I am preparing for an upcoming gig teaching a class called "Earth, Art and Therapy" when I re-read this in my notes: "One of my earliest memories was sitting in my backyard while my mom gardened, looking at the lettuce growing along the fence and wondering why it was all floppy and not  in a tight round ball like the stuff from the grocery store. As a three year old, I imagined someone at the store rolled it into a ball and wrapped it in cellophane." Who knew about varieties?
Over the past few years my mother's spirit has been urging me to remember her as a gardener and lover of all things growing instead of as a sick person suffering from cancer. The image of her gaunt and pale with a scarf tied over her chemo ravaged head has had a lot of staying power in me. It is equally true, though, that she grew flowers and vegetables all summer long and had pots full of cactus and rubber plants indoors. She has been telling me for many years to focus on the beauty, the pleasure and the fun of life, not to avoid the pain, just notice it, hear what it has to say,  then make the course correction it is inevitably suggesting and focus on the light and the love that always flows once the needed change is made. Her illness was just one detail of who she was, not the most significant one. Everyone, but especially the women, who incarnate and suffer with such illnesses are bringing us a message of the need for a change. Let's listen up more closely so we can get that flow of love and joy that's right behind the change.
So here's what she's saying today: She and most women were gardening in the 1950's when I grew up. Sure, they also dabbled in T.V. dinners and other food fads that eroded our health and our families, everybody was curious about something new. But in the big picture, the gap from then to now is a short one. It's a very short time in which to make the course correction back to local, fresh and now consciously organic food. Celebrate that! People didn't always eat junk food, it's a blip on the evolutionary screen and we are correcting it all around the world. When we represent for what we love, it touches the love inside of others and activates it. Works way better than scare tactics to create change.
I credit my son-in-law Jeff with a quote that really woke me up: "If you want to save the world, throw a better party!" And by better, I mean fun, fresh, local and pretty darn silly. Oh, and did I mention our float won first prize in our category? We're already planning an even better party for next year and everybody is invited. Our complete photo albums from the parade are online. Thanks, Mom!

Flowers and the Farm

A few weeks ago Jessica, another farm volunteer, pointed out that all the flower pickers that morning were men, all men with very long hair twisted up off their necks in the heat. They were gathering long stems of deep purple and white larkspur for the CSA members. There was a lot of discussion among them about what constituted an acceptable stem and gentle shaking to be sure the loose petals fell in the field. It seemed like a peace and beauty class going on in the field.
Sitting here today at the Farmer & the Cook I notice the little bouquets of zinnias from the farm gracing every table. I helped to harvest them on Thursday and at first I was a little judgmental, I have to admit. After all, the zinnias are tiny and modest compared with the stately larkspur and regal sunflowers of weeks past. At first four little blooms in a yellow organic twist tie seems a little, well, little. The thought passed however as I cut the stems and stripped the leaves being careful to cut above the next buds which will flower by next week. Suddenly I became aware of the voices of the flowers calling "pick me! pick me!"  A sense of absolute joy and a rush of emotion at a level just below consciousness flooded me. What? I've always been a little bit reluctant to cut flowers and take them indoors, feeling it's unfair to them. "No! This is our purpose, our reason, our vocation, if you will," they assured me.
Bridget, John and I were harvesting and I began to notice the ballet between John and me. I snipped the stem and handed the bunch to him; he stripped the lower leaves and gently tied them below the bloom and near the end of the stem. When Brian, Bridget's boyfriend joined us, lured by the zinnias' subtle mojo I'd like to think, we were two couples engaged in a flower exchange performance that felt so sweet and loving. The flowers laughed at me and seemed thrilled that I figured out their game to enhance our life. Was it an accident that of all the volunteers two couples were picking the flowers together?
All week the zinnias have graced my kitchen table. The four stems fit easily into a skinny caper jar. They exude a kind of happiness that is infectious and I have to thank them for all the lessons of how to give freely, enthusiastically, fully and now. The flowers are a huge gift to the whole enterprise of the farm,  they have deepened my appreciation of every aspect of the work and remind me that the sustenance of the soul is as important as feeding the body.

Pomegranates Revisited, Another Season

In December, 2006 I undertook a collaborative art project I called the "Pomegranate Exercise." The project was inspired by the eaten out, empty pomegranate shells I was finding on my walks around Ojai that winter. I resonated with those empty shells, they felt like an accurate mirror of my inner state. Twenty three other women artists agreed to let me mail then a pomegranate shell and also agreed to use it to prompt their art making. We had a show in May 2007 of all the transformed pomegranates and the artists' reflections; the show can be viewed on my website.

I never again found shells the way I did that season. This year we are in residence here as the pomegranates have dropped their gorgeous flowers and have begun to set out their fruit. I watch as the fruit swells from a tiny crenelated bell to a round vessel and imagine the crimson seeds multiplying within. I find that this year I also resonate with the pomegranates. I feel renewed life, new projects growing, and old projects are blooming in a new cycle. I am especially excited to be working again with the Open Studio Project helping to offer the first stage of the Facilitators Training Program.
It is wonderful to be reminded that the cycle of fruiting and dying are ever present in us and in everything. The pomegranate art gave me a focus for meditating on emptiness and kept me busy while the energy slowly flowed back underground to my core,  rejuvenating my essence and preparing me for what was to come next. I am so grateful to all the women who joined me and whose work supported me in that time of transformation. I know that some of them are also moving into new exciting projects. Deborah Feinstein is Vice President of the Vilna Shul in Boston, MA and working on hosting a conference on Jewish identity there next year that she will integrate art into and which will yield an eventual exhibit. Janis Timm-Bottos is on her way to Montreal to begin teaching in a graduate art therapy program and also set up a community studio for research and learning. Lisa Sorce-Schmitz probably just gave birth to her second child and continues to hold the space for magic and creativity at Whispers from the Moon Studio in Oak Park. Kim Conner has become a Reiki Master and has a vibrant practice. Joanne Ramseyer has open Blue Lotus Studio in Evanston, IL. Wendy Lauter just finished presiding over the second annual Mitziut Art Show and is back growing gourds and sharing gourd magic all over Chicago. M.G. Maloney is running the speakers program for Barbara's Bookstore and making plans to return to school for a degree in library science. Sallie Wolf, who graciously hosted the Pomegranate Exercise show at her studio Calypso Moon, has a new book, The robin makes a laughing sound: A birder's journal. I hope any of the other artists who I have not been in touch with recently will comment here on the blog and let everyone know what you are up to as well. I am so grateful for such fellow travelers.
Everything is change. Life gives way to death; the stillness eventually stirs with new life. Amazingly, we can count on that.

Amazing Visitors or Maybe I'm the Visitor...

I've been reading a number of books lately on nature spirits, commonly called devas. All the writers mention that by spending time just hanging out and observing in nature, more and more devas will show up and reveal all sorts of things. So far I am very comfortable sitting under Comarade, the oak tree in front of the house, I've set up a little altar to Lilith there with a plaque I made many years ago and have been waiting to find the right spot for. I asked permission of Comarade and I also hung a bronze bell from Arcosanti. During one of my sojourns under the tree, I spied a beautiful caterpillar a few yards away. This area is an easy place for me to slip into meditation and I've gotten some amazing information and guidance here.

The backyard is still a bit overwhelming, its a very big space and easier to view from the deck. I venture down there but often feel like I can't take it all in. But, last weekend I had several encounters that confirmed for me that the devas are at work and taking notice of my efforts, and rewarding them in delightful ways. On Saturday, I climbed down the steps to the grass and at my feet were hundreds of tiny frogs!! Each about the size of my thumbnail had lovely markings. The photo in no way does justice to the phenomenon. I went and got my camera and even took a video clip but really, it was far more magical than what showed up in the images. I spent about an hour just watching them play in the grass and hop around. They also prompted me to call my sister because she uses the acronym 'frog' (fully rely on God) to prompt her when she starts to stress out. The devas are definitely strengthening our relationship as one of their gifts.
The next day, I went out to see if the frogs were there again. It was earlier and very misty. Instead of the frogs I was greeted by an exquisite spider web festooned with water droplets. It hung across the steps so I sat down and simply enjoyed its beauty. The incredible gift that the devas bestow is a sense of peace, harmony and oneness with all creation that is actually grounded in Earth wisdom and not some kind of flighty out of body experience. I am finding this an incredible antidote and balance to aid in holding a loving awareness of the difficult things (like oil spills and war) that are also going on. With the devas' help it is possible to hold an open awareness and an honest feeling state without either shutting down, feeling hopeless and cynical or striving through frantic action to "do" something. Yet, it does not induce passive inaction. I continue to sign petitions for groups like the Union of Concerned Scientists, write my congress folk and meditate on a vision of peace and wholeness but  there is a sense of calm that is growing that I notice is different than the low-grade anxiety I have often felt even when engaging in these sorts of efforts.
I am fortunate to live nearby Krotona, one of the Theosophical Society centers which has an excellent library. I found tons of books on the subject of nature spirits, devas, working with subtle energies and more.  Among the theosophists who have written on the subject of devas are Geoffrey Hodson, Alice Bailey, Helene Blavatsky and Rudolph Steiner. A contemporary book I recommend is The deva handbook: How to work with nature's subtle energy by Nathaniel Altman. He describes some excellent techniques for getting in touch with devas in any area, country, city or wherever you find yourself. I am appreciating the growing sense that I am accompanied by many fellow travelers in this world that I can get to know much better with a little effort and have much to gain. All the writers on devas that I have read emphasize that our loving energy and gratitude is part of what sustains the health and welbeing of all creation. That's really not too much to ask, is it?

Can't Get No Satisfaction: A Paradox of Gratitude and Horror

From where I sit in Ojai the major effect I experience from the Gulf oil spill is a deep queasiness in my stomach. This feeling arises not only from the images and descriptions of the event and how birds, the sea creatures, and residents of the Gulf coast are experiencing untold gallons of oil entering the water, air and life. It arises also from the remark by U.S. Interior Secretary Ken Salazar's remark that the government will "..keep the boot on the neck of BP" and Lisa Jackson, head of the Environmental Protection Agency who remarked that there will certainly be "opportunity for fines and penalties." Something is amiss and not only in the "we all drive, we all depend on oil so we're all responsible, BP is our proxy villain" train of thought. I have been asking for guidance about how to relate to this event and today, after commiserating with a variety of friends and feeling there was nothing new in any of our responses, from "We don't really know the meaning of this or what 'good' may come of it" to "when will we learn?" to "maybe we really are going to die off as a species maybe that's not so bad." I guess all the available narratives feel pretty stale.
Most of  my day was spent interacting with growing living things. I worked on the farm picking beautiful leeks, loosening the earth with a shovel, gently rocking the bulbs until they gave way from the earth, at one point burying my nose in the roots and inhaling their perfume with deep pleasure. Johanna said, "harvesting leeks is soooo satisfying!" I agree, an exquisite combination of effort and ease. Later in my own garden I futzed around with my compost, picked the very last artichokes and boiled and pickled the new beets from the CSA box. While I was washing out the pot from the beets, reveling in the smell of boiling artichokes and anticipating eating them with some melted butter and garlic, I heard: "I really like it when you appreciate my gifts." I have a collage of a prayer in gratitude for food over my stove, in Hebrew it says, "eat, be satisfied, give praise to the Source of life." Satisfaction seems like the key here. I feel most satisfied when I expend effort and then rest, when I tend the garden and then eat, when I partake of as much of the cycle of life as possible. Then my praise is both spontaneous and pretty much constant.
I began to see an image of the Earth as an angry wife whose lovingly prepared repast is unappreciated, she hurls a plate at her thankless family, "Don't like the food? You want food? Here's your food!" Maybe Gaia is saying: "Oil? You want every last bleeding drop of oil? Here you go!" Maybe we will die off and become the oil, the compressed carbon, for the next iteration of creatures that get to inhabit this planet, it wouldn't seem unfair.  In the meantime, I'm going to think more about satisfaction and look for more ways to appreciate the gifts. Mike Jagger had it right, we've become used to being unsatisfied which renders us like the hungry ghosts that haunt the newly dead, we're unfulfilled. Satisfaction is the pleasure that comes when a need or desire has been fulfilled. I have an odd notion that the challenge of our times is learning how to appreciate things, all things, including oil rigs, drilling technology, cars, roads, airplanes, in addition to the birds, the earth, the water, the plants. REALLY appreciate what we've  made with what we've been given. I think it's a step that we've been overlooking and one that would in fact lead us to change our behaviors in such a way as to prolong and share this adventure a bit longer and more fairly. After all, all those things we often vilify are things we desired and believe we need  and we have had those needs and desires fulfilled. Maybe we are re-thinking that now and need to, but maybe praising the Source of Life for letting us try them out is an order of business that really is a necessary part of the cycle of change and evolution. Not sure exactly, but planning to give this  much more thought....

Witnessing in Nature: Talking to Trees

Before I left Ojai in March I spent some time pruning the branches under one of the live oaks that resides in front of my house. I had discovered that under that particular tree it is always cool, no matter the temperature, a light breeze blows and it feels like a little hideaway. Returning May 8, among many surprises, including the abundance of artichokes on the huge plant in one of the garden spirals, was the way the pruned oak had responded to the pruning a few months ago. It felt like the tree had made the space beneath itself bigger and more accommodating.
At the same time, I am reading a charming little book called Talks with trees by Leslie Cabarga,  that contains a series of interviews with plants and trees. Since talking to trees is simply a version of witnessing, I feel comfortable with the practice and decided to see if I could interview the oak. The tree said that the space it created is my Beit Midrash, my house of study, "Bring me your questions and your observations" it said. The tree then observed the flight of my ideas, a common experience I have. "My, you are flighty! Your attention can go miles in a moment!"  I asked he tree its name. "Camarade" was the answer. "Like comrade? or camaraderie?" I asked. "More the second. I host a world here, it isn't just me, there are nematodes, worms, birds. I am a place of friends and associates." We talked for quite a while, I was recording the conversation in my journal the same way I do when I witness my art work. I asked if it was okay for me to blog about this encounter. In the past I've had some very profound experiences and it turned out to be not the right time to blog. The tree suggested I re-read my notes. What emerged as the thing to share is this: I was reflecting on what a great sabbath observance it was to sit in my tree beit midrash and learn. I heard "Spill some tea" and asked if I'd really heard that. Camarade said "Yes, you heard that. Spill some tea and spill less of yourself. You get filled up to overflow, spilling is one way to release the overage. Notice when you are feeling that way, let it go." I got that to symbolically spill is a way to acknowledge the mad fullness of life's abundance, to honor it and to let some of the inflationary energy out of me. I wondered if this could be a reason the ancient priests spilled blood on the altar. I also began to feel a wave of doubt come over me. I decided to go back out and sit with Camarade again. "What if you're only a tree?" He replied: "It can be that way if you choose, is that what you want?" Such terrible sadness welled up in me, my eyes flooded with tears. I choose to learn to be in the mad fullness of life and learn how to be in that. It sounds easier than it feels....

Growing Power: An Urban Farm & Community Center

Even though this is supposed to be a blog about my experiences in Ojai, I recently had an earth-bound experience here in the Midwest and of course, this distinction of place is just silly, because the earth is where I am, whatever the latitude and longitude but my poor little brain likes  categories. Last Saturday, my friend Dorie and I drive to Milwaukee to visit Growing Power, a well-known urban farm and community food center. Founder Will Allen has been featured in the popular film Fresh. An ex-NBA player and son of Southern farmers, Will has created an amazing venue that is on the verge of a huge vertical expansion in situ that will include, among many other cool projects, a culinary school. Currently he grows tons of greens and farms fish 365 days/year in a series of greenhouses that were originally the site of Milwaukee's commerical flower industry in the 1930's. With a staff of 35 and over 200 volunteers, Growing Power produces food for schools and restaurants, a local food coop and farmers' markets. They also have goats, chickens, turkeys and mushrooms!

I especially loved the aquaponics. Tilapia are being farmed in a four foot deep plastic-lined trench, which capitalizes on the geothermal effect of the soil, below trays of watercress, a popular microgreen destined for area restaurants. Water is pumped through the watercress for filtering and back to the fish while also fertilizing the watercress with the fish waste. Worm casings from the vermiculture (worm composting) are also fed to the fish. At Growing Power they take some of the partially composted wood chips and food waste material and give the worms a crack at it which they work through much faster that through fresh foodwaste which is what I have been accustomed to feeding them. Then the worms very quickly produce the rich fertilizer-grade compost that can be diluted for a soil additive or sold in bags as a powerful fertilizer. This answered my question about what was really so great about worms since mine took a very long time to digest what I gave them. The tilapia ponds and watercress operation runs the length of the greenhouse and are expected to produce 30,000 fish! 

Today I Prayed With A Shovel

A Rainbow Crowns the Day

Today I was attending a permaculture workshop at Santa Barbara City College and we were wondering if the tsunami watch following the 8.8 earthquake in Chile that has been called for the west coast was going to amount to anything. The Chile quake seems so far not to have caused anywhere near the damage of the smaller quake in Haiti last month. Chile has a more intact infrastructure, more stringent building codes and more wealth to accomplish those aims.  Despite being warned from the area, many folks were on the beach below the SBCC campus, expecting to witness who knows what. Instead of a terrifying wave of destruction, we were treated to an amazingly vivid rainbow. I drove back to Ojai passing under the rainbow that stretched from the hills to the sea. The waves crashed along the coast and the rain lashed against my windshield. I was late to a dinner and fundraiser that my friends Bob and Lisa were hosting to raise money to send to Haiti. One of the guests brought along a letter from someone on the ground in Port au Prince that was read aloud. This person described a different scene than what some of the media outlets have reported. Cooperation, orderly sharing of food and goods, medical care, even surgery, being done in modest but safe conditions and a sense of caring and dignity. The letter writer stressed that while there were some incidents of violence, those were rare and instead the overall tenor is one of compassion. Reflecting on the news of the day reinforces for me the value of the ultimate goals of permaculture: creating the conditions for life to happen in a harmonious, pleasurable and joyous way. The more we do to become resilient as individuals and communities, the more we will be able to roll with what comes our way. The permaculture ethics of care for the earth, care for people and share the surplus of our efforts are pretty simple and are being put into practice all over the world every day. The rainbow seems like a good reminder to focus on all that’s going well amidst the challenges the world is facing and to renew the covenant within ourselves as well as with one another to see and support the highest good in everyone.

What the Landscape Taught Me Today

 

I walked along one of the trails near my house  with a loose intention to receive any lessons the landscape had to offer. I took pictures along the way and tried to hold an open unthinking mind. I am fortunate to have trails very close by that within twenty minutes take me into the foothills and impart a feeling of being far away from civilization. Today workers from the water company were laying new pipe to replace the storage tanks that hold water at the trail head in case of fire. I felt a little tinge of annoyance at having my views disrupted by technology but continued on my way. It was a cool morning but sunny, ideal for being outside and I breathed the fresh air in deeply. Among the experiences on this hike: a plant pretty much shouted: “eat me!” and so I did. It was beautiful green and white and very tasty, a variation of dandelion I suspect.

I found my eye drawn to what I think of as earth art, particularly striking arrangements of bits of stuff and I photographed a few of those. Each time I took a photo I felt a glowing or shining sense that I experience as a subtle energy of joy. That quality of noticing something beautiful and having that which is beheld shine back, much the way when we smile at someone that person usually smiles back. I experience this sort of ‘call and response’ when I make art and it is exciting to begin to notice it in nature. I made an offering in return.

I rested at my favorite spot and ate a snack and watched the clouds, they too, spoke, reminding me of the filaments of mycelia and the use of that concept in Avatar (see last post). I like to think that we all have wispy filaments of energy that connect us to those we love and we send energy to them and receive energy that way because all of us, living and those who have passed on, are enwrapped in a tissue of care together. I find myself utterly calmed and rejuvenated by this kind of a hike.

I climbed back down the trail after what seems like hours but wasn’t. This time I noticed the earth art made by the machinery used to grade the area so the newly constructed tanks could be installed.

Now the machine looked alive to me.

Now I felt a welling up of gratitude for the workers installing the pipe, the engineers who figured out how to do all this and everyone who is responsible for the amazing fact that I filled my water bottle by simply turning a tap in my kitchen sink this morning before I began my hike.  I spoke to the two men working on the project and asked to photograph the valve, a beautiful sculpture.

They explained that there is already built in a larger valve in case there is a need to expand the water service in the future. Next week the old rusted tank will be dismantled and I’d like to go and watch. This kind of patient care for infrastructure is something I usually take for granted and yet every day depend upon.  The skilled workers who design and install and care for these structures are as much my beloved kin as the plants, the trees and the rocks. This is what the landscape taught me today.

Avatar - Still Doing It the Hard Way

This morning on a hike I noticed a winged insect walking along on the ground. Why would a creature that can fly struggle along on the ground? Last night I saw the much hyped movie, alone, not in 3D, in a sparsely populated theatre in Ventura. Much as I enjoyed the beauty of the Navi and their world, the story fell far short. In essence I saw a mash up of Dances with Wolves, District Nine and all of various techno-war movies ever made. Far more screen time is spent on war and destruction than anything transcendent or spiritually aware. I do believe the movie probably reflects where our culture is at the moment: still believing in war, a bare hint that there is another way. I am grateful that folks who may never have considered that the earth is alive are being challenged to entertain the concept. It is great that Cameron uses a version of a real concept, mycelium, researched by mushroom expert Paul Stamets the filaments that fungi allies send underground for miles to explain how the trees communicate with one another.
Ultimately, however, I read the film as an Oedipal drama. The colonel is a buffed up and stripped down version of the Father, has no doubts, no empathy, no heart. Even when he promises Jake his 'real' legs it is a quid pro quo transaction with no evidence of human feeling. But its no surprise that the "sky people' would be portrayed as violence addicted, greedy robotic action figures, that archetype has been a leading trend in our culture for quite a while. The final battle is the aging father figure and the disabled son, unconsciously revealing the knowledge that the male archetype is a fading, unsustainable template for humankind. Check out the story on NPR about Y chromosome research. Research on the human genome shows that the Y chromosome, which is what makes men men (as we know them, the rascals) is a 'hollow shell' having edited itself almost into extinction. However,there are apparently long stretches of DNA that are quite adaptable to change. Hence the scene of Jake transferring into the Navi body is actually not so far fetched.
What is disappointing is the shallow portrayal of the Navi. They are aware of their connection to the Source of Life, yet Nytira seems to chide Jake for trying to tune into Her before the war. "She doesn't take sides" is the line but no other model of relationship is offered. Is this war for a purpose? Is the lesson that Ewa doesn't live in a tree so She is merely helping the Navi learn, in the most painful way possible, that She is beyond their constructs of Her? Must every thing be done the hard way, with vast contraptions of metal and fire? From the film's point of view perhaps both peoples are still quite primitive unable to imagine that love and sharing between human and human-like creatures can be generalized to become our chosen way of dealing with each other.

Bottling Wine, Weaving Community

We spent the day helping our friends, the Levins, bottle the contents of three oak barrels of wine. There were about sixteen of us carrying out the operation that involved filling the bottles, corking them, wiping them dry, labeling and packing the bottles into boxes. There is something about falling into a groove doing mild labor among friends with music on, outside on a beautiful day that is deeply satisfying. Details of the tasks, lining up the labels on an almost invisible line on the green glass bottle, stacking the cases of wine to maximize space on the pallet, using simple but ingenious machines like the corker which relies on leverage and a modest amount of physical effort. Some tasks require skill and knowledge, like tasting and timing when to bottle while others are simple and satisfying like peeling off labels printed out from the computer and affixing them to the corked wine. The light banter and occasional gentle remarks about quality control (no better way to figure out the Type-A's in the crowd)create an invisible fabric of relationship that all of us were woven into. I believe that experiences like this create the tensile strength of our life force energy, adding qualities of flexibility, texture and color. Without focusing on the blue of the sky, the white phlox sprouting on the hillside or the subtle shadows cast by the pepper trees, these all become part of me. I am also now part of all those I worked with today. We are made for doing work together, this kind of voluntary service to one another, not paid labor but a gift of time and energy given freely and gratefully received. Both the giving and the receiving are enriching, somehow dignifying. Sharing food together at the end of the work is a form of communion, shows the outlines of what the over used word community grows out of. Over the past several years I have been happy to join in this work, the harvest, even once stomping grapes, and the bottling, all the aspects of this very ancient art. I have seen my friend's operation grow, his accumulation of tools of the trade, more of his property planted with grapevines. It is still a small operation, a sideline, he is still an 'amateur' a winemaker for the love of it. If he crosses the threshold into enterprise, selling his wine, I wonder how this will all change. For now I simply savor the sense of peace that comes with sharing time and space and purpose with friends.

The Claims of Place

I couldn't get into the New Year's resolution thing with my friends last night. I kept feeling I was in a fragile state that shouldn't be tampered with. It had something to do with letting a mode of being fall away, feeling my way into doing things differently. Being claimed by a place.We started coming to Ojai in 2004, the beginning of a major transition. Today, the first day of the calendar year of 2010, I am here. With no external help, I woke up in time to see first the moon and then the edges of the sunrise, that's how I knew I was finally here. My intention for this blog is to explore the claims of place and to witness the changes that occur as I submit to this claim. The idea of being earthbound has come up in this context, being bound to the earth as tied to it as well as bound in the sense of traveling toward. It is a simultaneous sense of being both here and on my way here. Like many people I am aware of living a transition that is both personal and more than personal. I am reading lots of stuff in ecopsychology, permaculture, energy and seeing images in dreams and in my art and receiving intuitions about this. Feeling my way into a new space. I seek to share this experience.