Listening to the Things Themselves

no egret so consolation prize picture

I was writing an email to my son-in-law, Jeff, this morning when a beautiful white egret landed in front of the house. I grabbed my camera and went outside. I'd forgotten to change the battery which was low so went back and got my cell. I tried to get closer and the bird walked a few steps toward the garden and lifted off over the roof of my neighbor's house. The transition from email to the egret was  abrupt. I was in info-connect mode and stayed there. I pulled down my Ted Andrews book, Animal Speak. The egret is not found there. The egret itself was right here. Next time I will just sit down and welcome the bird. I am able to do this when I am connected in the garden and the hummingbirds, bees and butterflies come by. Coyotes, gophers and lizards hang here and make eye contact when I'm in a relaxed and open mode. But I miss my peeps too. I love my family and friends and while I am so deeply grateful for this generous time to connect with the nature spirits of plants and animals here in Ojai, I am so looking forward to coming to Oak Park on Friday spending ten days with those I love. The Overlighting Devas have shared with Machaelle Wright that we will be coming to a time when we will be able to connect with people directly from any geographic place. Technology like Skype and face time are preparing us to make that imaginative leap. In the meantime, I hold the tension of the incredible present moment of life that keeps opening to me and the near future of a transition in a few days via all our current clunky means, car, van, airplane, to another place. The other transition I am making is from the need to verify with printed matter the direct experience of life itself. I love books, I love words and I am coming to love deeply the language of what shows up every minute in front of me. As I trust it more and share it with others, I come to trust it more as well. When I am in that place, I know without a doubt that we are deeply loved.
Do not even listen, simply wait, be quiet still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.
Franz Kafka

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!

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.

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! 

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.