Summer Solstice, Dancing Devas, Celebrating Crones

Pat, Julie, Aviva

Here is a quote from a statement from the Overlighting Deva of Perelandra about the meaning of the solstice: The recognition of the nature cycle within the framework of the equinox and solstice rhythm is a perfect example of the fusion of action and awareness. In this particular case, we have two levels of the example. First, there is the recognition of the special dynamic energy activated and released during these four days that is directly linked to the annual natural progression of the planet. Second, by taking a moment out to stand back from the day-to-day process and consciously acknowledge the specific stages of that process, one is able to re-infuse his commitment to the process itself. Tuesday, June 21, at exactly 10:16 CST, I was joined by two friends, Aviva and Julie, to celebrate the Summer Solstice. We gathered with our ceremonial objects under the main oak tree that has declared itself the center of the property.

Each of us was struck by how we had been either rushed, tired, or too busy that morning and yet each one showed up, as we had promised to do a few weeks earlier, to mark this auspicious time. We lit a candle, said blessings, gave thanks, and stated our intentions. 

My learning that arrived earlier that morning in meditation was to include both bread and wine in our ceremony, which we did. These two substances are a good example of human/nature co-creation, which is why they hold such meaning in so many religious traditions. While grapes and wheat are wonderful substances, bread and wine are considered more pleasing to the Divine because they show humanity's creative contribution. 

This year my solstice learning has been all about what co-creation really means. It means taking an active role in what life looks like. It means having a strong, clear, specific intention and then allowing nature to decide the form, i.e., what it looks like. It means giving up the child-parent dynamic with the Divine and no longer saying 'whatever' in the form of "Your will be done"  but actively knowing and owning consciously what we intend to call into being. Aviva is currently doing this as she calls "Creative Passage" the next unfolding of her wonderful work into being. 

An active partnership with nature is very different from a romantic "Trees are good, machines are evil" stance that denigrates humans as if we were somehow not part of nature. There is nothing that is not nature. My cell phone is nature and partakes of a unique combination of the elements in the form it holds. It was on our altar space, not so I could take a call, but to let us know exactly the moment of the solstice to light our candle, to take pictures to commemorate our event, and to give thanks for the genius of this device that does so many magical functions to enhance life.

Lilith Plaque

Did I mention that men were driving a tractor, moving rocks around and re-contouring the landscape a few feet away? Nava and Angel were at work carrying out and amplifying changes the landscape has been making to herself. At another time we might have sought a quieter place for our ritual, feeling the work and workers as an intrusion. From where we sit today, all of us are in service to Nature in different ways, one not more elevated than the other.CSA and went inside and chopped it up for lunch, along with cabbage soup and potatoes, hummus and bread.

As often happens after a conscious interaction with the land and the devas, a sign appears in some sort of natural expression of delight. Later that evening while out for a walk, I saw the most beautiful clouds, that looked for all the world like devas, dancing.

Some Thoughts About Story

Sow thistle detail

"Sounds like a Disney movie." After hearing that several times from different people when I describe the reality I am currently living  in Ojai I felt compelled to reflect on where our stories come from. My reality includes spending a lot of time sitting outside  observing and having pretty close encounters with a variety of growing things and creatures, large and small, who hang around long enough and come close enough to make eye contact or otherwise engage me in what feels like a pretty direct way.  Today I spent several hours with a plant called Sow thistle which looks like a very attenuated Dandelion. In fact that's what I thought it was until this guy from the Dept. of Agriculture who is monitoring insect traps on our property stopped by and I asked him to look at the insect life on the the not-Dandelion. He told me the name and described that this plant is actually a thistle and currently it is swarming with aphids and ants and some lady bugs. That much I knew. And I mean swarming, plague-like levels of insects that, so close to Passover, could be seen as implying something not too wonderful. Ag Guy asked cautiously if I was spraying and I said no, I am observing. He seemed relieved.
A different story about the plant is: "Hosting a large population of insects which in turn are nourishing beneficial insects such as ladybugs and giving this necessary cycle a place to occur so it doesn't happen on the nearby artichoke plant." That would be the permaculture story in which there is some concession to "Nature" knowing what "She" is doing, however it also implies that, since I can tell that story, that I know what I am doing. I love listening to people who can tell those kinds of stories and I know that many such storytellers have the firsthand experience of watching and learning to know what they know. Many also have degrees in enthobotany or entomology or another scientific discipline. Part of my task currently is learning that I will not be one of those people, no matter how much time I spend observing, and that is okay. I will learn some of this kind of stuff but it isn't my primary focus. My primary job has to do with making a story bridge from this kind of information to other people, the kind who are genuinely terrified of plagues and are happy to spray whatever they're told to spray to ensure no plague will get them or their tomatoes. On behalf of that constituency and on behalf of Nature, I am doing the work of watching lots of insects and feeling the anxiety and doing nothing but watching and talking to the devas of the plants and insects. I believe my job is to be a bridge between Disney and Science but also between Disney and the war mentality about stuff that grows, flys, and otherwise shares the planet with us.

Cocreated Dress for Cinderella

By the way, Disney didn't do a such a bad job. The mice and birds helped Cinderella create her gown. The problem is that this is considered make-believe, or the 'magic of childhood.' The expression of the metaphor definitely needs updating. That is what I consider my work. I have signed on to co-create with Nature. And I subscribe to the story that Nature is everything in form, not just the plants and insects and animals. Part of my challenge is learning to embody the balance of this work, the imaginative and the actual. I do not believe this is "spiritual" work in the sense of something that you meditate about and things magically align. I experience it as physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual work that grounds and balances me in reality, which has of course, many levels and facets.
What I know about story is that  we live the story that we find most meaningful and contains as much love, beauty, humor and truth as we can bear. If we don't think we deserve much, the stories we tell are dark and not generous. More on stories next time...

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

Coming Home

 I've been lurching awkwardly toward this "co-creative partnership with Nature" since we moved in to our Ojai house with greater and lesser success.  In 2008 Larry Santoyo, my permaculture teacher, conducted one of his famous "Swan Song for the Lawn" workshops here and we mulched over the grass, build three spirals and planted a variety of herbs. Working with the garden in the front of the house has become more amazing since I began following the Perelandra methods in the last few months. To begin today I opened a coning with Pan, the Deva of the spiral gardens, and my higher self. As I began to work I was being swarmed with tiny black bugs, buzzing around my head and biting my bare arms. Once they got my attention I realized I was definitely disrupting the insects in the gardens. I invited the insect Deva to join the coning, apologized for disrupting their habitat and asked that the disruption be as minimal as possible. Yes, the swarming and biting stopped.
This winter we removed some juniper that had been edging that area and slowly, through intention to hear from Nature and witnessing, I've been directed to do some work arranging more rocks in curved and circular patterns. Once the junipers came out, many more large rocks became visible which form larger spiral patterns on their own. Today I was directed to mulch over the bare areas after a month or more of watching dandelions sprout up. I don't know why today was the day, I just heard it clearly. I'd like to think its because the dandelions are through fixing nitrogen in the soil, but honestly, I have no idea and trusted that.
Our source for cardboard,  our trusty sheet mulch, the solar panel company, has dried up.
I got that I should use old fabric. I had some old curtains, throw rugs and t-shirts that became the sheet mulch and weed barrier before adding six or so inches of wood chips. I recently learned from a colleague and friend, Janis Timm-Bottos,  who had set up an art studio in the middle of a thrift store in Canada that we  should all feel a bit less righteous about giving our clothing discards to second hand stores. It seems that the glut of fabric waste is so enormous that 3,000 dumpster loads of fabric goes into the landfill each year just in her  town of West Kootenay, British Columbia, with a population of less than 40,000 people. The fact is, there is so much to choose from in thrift stores that no one buys stuff with stains or tears so the thrift stores have to pay to take it to the dump.

The idea of using worn out clothes as the mulch/weed barrier was appealing but I did muscle test to be sure I wasn't just enchanting myself with a good story. The t-shirts I inherited from my daughter from her high school days have gotten even a little too filthy to wear to the farm so here was a way to give them one last job and weave some memories (dance committees, yearbook, softball) into the garden. The curtains were really like free landscape cloth, sheers that had stood the test of time in California sunlight. I harvested the drapery pins to recycle and felt like I was veiling a bride as I arranged the fabric cutting spaces to fit over the rocks. The fabric was even easier to work with than the cardboard. It tucks in well at the sidewalk edge using a plaster knife.
I still find myself resisting the work of the garden a bit,  as if thinking about it is enough. I am so much more comfortable reading and writing, making art and staying in the mind. Yet I know that action, to do the physical labor, is necessary to come into embodiment of these new ideas. Today I paid careful attention as I came up with excuses to stop working and finish up later, after the sun goes down, etc. I used muscle testing to test and each time got that I should keep going and do the work. I was reminded of a conversation with my daughter, Adina, about how easing into a stretch in yoga often triggers the mind to say "Stop, get up, this is too hard, you might have some email.." So I stayed with it and happily finished an area of about 6'X25' and it looks really nice, edged in rocks. My body feels a little stiff but I also felt myself gain in accepting the gifts offered by nature: the deeply grounding sense of being at home.

What I Learned from Nature about Hazardous Waste

I have been spending a lot of time studying the work of Machaelle Wright, founder and director of the Perelandra Garden and Research Center in Warrenton, VA. Machaelle teaches that working in partnership with nature isn't simply a poetic metaphor but rather a commitment to a more conscious way of life. You can check it out at her website and through her books and articles. A brief definition of one key term: nature is the conscious reality that supplies order, organization and life vitality to EVERYTHING. It is an intelligence the vastness of which we can barely conceive. When we commit to co-create with nature (not simply use nature as a store we take whatever we want from without paying) we can supply the intention and in turn, nature  determines the best form to manifest that intention. This is true regardless of whether our intention has to do with a garden, a business, a home or a relationship. All of these are forms. Nature will not override any form-specific intentions we make. As someone who has studied, taught and worked with intention for many years, Machaelle's work has expanded my understanding a thousand fold.

This weekend I was gathering lots of stuff that comes under the general heading of 'hazardous waste' to bring to a collection event held by Ventura county. Items that could be brought included: old paint, solvents, household cleaners, pool chemicals, motor oil, medications, as well as electronic waste like old TVs, computers, cell phones, florescent tubes, microwave ovens. All sorts of stuff that doesn't break down in landfills, can harm us, our kids and pets and lies moldering in garages or basements or is guiltily put in the trash when we think no one is looking. As I gathered the stuff in boxes to put in my car, I remembered something Machaelle said somewhere in one of her books. She points out that everything that is created is made from the same elements listed on that good old Periodic Table we all learned in high school. Most of the stuff I was filling my boxes with was composed of highly complex amalgams of many of those elements arranged in very long formulas, like the polymers that make up plastic. She wryly point out that had nature been consulted about the creation of say, plastic, nature might have raised a few issues with the scientist, like "Say, what do you think about allowing this stuff to break down into its' constituent parts once you're done with it?" But, that was not part of the intention, which was probably focused more on creating attributes like lightness, durability and cheapness, for which nature supplied many great forms as requested. Plastic is amazing. It also has unintended consequences that were inevitable because our human understanding of form is not as great at nature's understanding of form.
I have taught people for years to make their intention for what they wish to receive from the Creative Source and then to release that intention and not be attached to the form it may show up in. I am learning how much more powerful this concept is than I ever imagined. As I packed the boxes my head and entire left side began to ache. At first I chalked that up to the toxicity of much of what I was handling, even though most of it was in closed containers. However, when I checked in with nature as it resided in those substances, they were telling me something else. Each substance or object was still composed of those elements on the periodic chart. I took the opportunity to sit quietly with the boxes and thank all of the elements for combining into form as requested to serve the needs of humanity. I apologized for our ignorance in not asking for nature's help in designing objects and substances that would work for the highest good. I recognized how a dualistic consciousness that imagines it's okay for someone else to take the risk inherent in manufacturing as well as disposing of the waste so I can have a clean house or a computer is wrong and actually violates the laws of nature which say that the divine is in everyone and we can live as if the God in all life mattered (the title of one of Machaelle's books). If we partner with nature and ask that whatever we invent, create, desire have the highest good for all as a key part of our intention, nature will oblige or direct us to where our intention may be in conflict with this higher order of consciousness.

This is not an exercise in blame, the 1935 slogan "Better Living Through Chemistry" was an earnest and optimistic one and I honor the scientists who gave it their all. We are awakening to a a new metaphor, nature is not a 'resource', not an adversary, not an avenging parent but rather a willing, beautiful and brilliant partner in co-creating a world we can ALL live and thrive in, nature included.

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.

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! 

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.