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