I. The Farm
“One planet is turning, circle on her path around the Sun”
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So, this one time, I wrote this book about my lightening blizzard winter at Standing Rock, it was pretty cool. It pretended to be an adventure cookbook, but spiraled through a much larger narrative starring agriculture as the original sin. The behind-the-scenes player fueling the destruction of the world around us. And financing it. I really went on and on about the whole agriculture thing, so I'll assume you're up to speed. Or at least able to understand that if we commoditize our plentiful Mother Earth, if we prioritize profits over plant life, animal life, and human life, if we take more than our fair share, then the cornucopia dries up. Ok, now we're all on the same page, page 5 or 6 or something like that, so where should I start this thing? Oh, well how 'bout that time I was taking a greyhound to virginia... to live on a farm.
Gotta love a good plot twist, couldn't remember if they go at the beginning or the end, figured I'd double up. Anyway, I was halfway done transcribing 'Step One', when I got wind of a water protector sweat lodge happening for the four days of summer solstice. I was in dire need. I hadn't sweat since camp, and like most of the water protectors, I was suffering from the psychological traumas of dealing with all that we experienced, and varying levels of reintegration back into society. I hadn't even attempted to check back into the grid, but I did spend a few weeks with family in rural carolina. You know, country folk. Good hearted, mild mannered, family oriented, church going, conservative, oil guzzling, gun toting, mcdonalds eating, turkey farming, homophobic, privileged white people.
Needless to say, they didn't quite understand why I was fighting for the water in a land so far away. Or why I refused to pour gasoline down an anthill, to exterminate the original inhabitants of the neighborhood that my family only recently colonized. But, won't you feel bad if one of the precious young ones gets chewed up by fiery insects? Certainly I will sympathize with a tearful toddler, I love my little dudes, but I also sympathize with my six legged brothers who just had their home crushed by an inconsiderate higher species.
How about we teach our young to be considerate? To understand that we share our home and should respect the space of others. Show them how to observe, how to pay attention, how to be aware of how they affect the living world around themselves. And how it may affect them. Mindfulness. Easier to learn it now, than after this attempted ecocide fails to subdue Mother Nature and a careless kiddo has to learn the hard way.
And too young to know better? Not valid. Kids are brilliant. And resilient. Only recently embarking on their long journey of endless life lessons. And you'd prefer to end the life of an entire community of Ant families, just so that your little stinker never has to grow up? Overflowing from a world run by self-centered brats who never reached adulthood, disconnected from the consequences of their own actions, unaware of any type of symbiosis between man and the concept of a somehow separated nature, 'us and them' in perpetuity as classes are labeled to further alienate our biological allies, easily wooed with sparkles and sweets and the early indoctrination of dollar values, even if it does require using the Earth as a disposable diaper bin.
I personally know kids that were with it before they could even talk. If it's important to you, then it'll be important to them. If instead, your life is centered around mindless convenience and an ignorance to your own Ant covered footprint, well, let's just say that this shelter you built, is going to offer zero protection from the stormy dystopia that you're passing down to our future. Sounds like it's not the kids who need to grow up after all.
Despite repeated warnings, I continued to walk around the yard barefoot, I just didn't smash any Ant habitats. Easy really, a higher perspective makes it effortless to navigate the path ahead, at least as long as no Ant farm fences completely sever the migration route.
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Across the neighbor's fence, there was another intruder, a beautiful Copperhead had apparently not seen the no trespassing sign. Armed with Sage and a shovel, the only land dispute mediation I could offer was a witness relocation program to the nearby woods. But I didn't live in this community. I would be leaving soon and unthreatened by future run-ins, unencumbered by the guilt of enabling a poisonous Snake to bite a loved one. I get it, I understand the logic of murdering our brother to save our son, I just don't agree with it. So I would not try to stop them, I preferred to spend that energy praying. I carried the lifeless serpent to the wood line, smudged, and thanked this mesmerizing creature for its contributions to life's circle as I offered its energy up to the ever dwindling strip of neighboring ecosystem.
Of course, through the Lakota perspective, which my current connection to the planet was birthed in, killing that Snake was bad medicine. A dose of negative karma at the cost of such a spiritually significant animal. We would also expect to see an influx of slithering visitors as news travels through the Muscadine vine. A fun idea, an uneducated mythology of the uncivilized, a hollywood satire of english speaking pets, but quite preposterous that the real world has any idea what's going on out there. An unspoken interconnectedness between a nearly infinite range of organisms, nah, we can't even get along with ourselves.
I prefer an understanding of the environment rooted in science. Like the largest organism on Earth, the Honey Fungus, a living mycelium that spans miles in the pacific northwest. And good old science has connected the dots on how this neural network enables forest-wide communication, as it reroutes critical nutrients to areas of prioritized ecological importance. And it turns out that the planet is pretty much held together by similar webs of fungal microbiology, that seem to be transmitting some kinda secret code. There is a planetary language of vibration. The hills are alive with the sound of music.
While I certainly contend that we are in no way superior to the rest of life, I also acknowledge that we are not at all inferior either, in principle at least. Just like our brothers and sisters, we are also perfectly evolved to tune-in to the soundtrack of our mother's womb. The hum of the incubator designed to give us comfort in knowing that we are being looked after. However, we have somehow been completely conditioned to ignore her love song, we let fear strike a few sour chords, and now the whole orchestra sounds out of key. Pretty naive for a creature who evolved a tin ear, to start second guessing the complexity of such a masterpiece. Throughout this journey, I've deepened my participation in this global symphony, becoming continuously inspired to connect as I crossed paths with those who seem to speak the language fluently.
At this point though, I was only engaged in a one-sided creek bed convo with a passing Deer, until all of a sudden a Snake “fell” from a tree and landed a few feet behind me. He reminded me to be mindful of my surroundings, and I reminded him that I also mourned the loss of our dear brother. Spooked me a bit, made me jump reflexively, basic instinct, almost out of... fear? Well that can't be right. How could someone so into the natural world, so certain of a planetary web of eco-connectedness, someone prepared to live in an off-grid cave nourished only by the knowledge that all of my needs will be provided for, provided that I believe in the abundance of our infinite mother, how could I be experiencing the delusion of fear that only exists in the made up language of man?
Conditioning. Now, while fear is not instinctual, the street smarts to get away from an animal that might cause you harm, is. As far as this fear conditioning polluting the air, well, that's the kind of stuff that perpetuates the slaughter of an innocent in the name of comfort. Funny enough that with the Snake gone, the comfort level is now clouded with a new wave of Rat poison.
So maybe I didn't experience fear. Once I had jumped to a reasonably safe distance, I no longer felt anything but love for this creature. But it got me thinking, made me look inward, with humility, and admit to myself that perhaps I wasn't as ready to disappear into the woods as I was letting myself believe. How will I react if a visitor wanders into my bed at night? I trust that my instincts will take care of me in the moment, no worry about that, where the fear would try to sneak in would be through the pillow thoughts of my sleepless slumber. Night terrors of absurdity, as there's no nocturnal hunting party looking for me, I don't even show up on their radar, or menu. I won't wake up in a half digested state of constriction. They are not my predators. If anything, I could eat them.
Ding, ding, ding. Now we’re talking. Name a single animal longer than a breadbox that would be easier to hunt without a weapon. If our initial reaction was that of gratitude for the abundance of life, if we saw them not as a pest but as a bounty, if we honored their contribution to the universal cycles of evolution, perhaps we wouldn't feel compelled to act on our fear of the unfamiliar. Certainly helps me sleep at night, both in a grass floor tipi and amidst the confliction of taking another's life. If I can eat you, then you're fair game. Circle of life baby. Game on.
*******
Of course, my new menu plans would probably seem a little out there to my grandmother, but as the only unemployed members of the family, we had plenty of time for our worldviews to collide. And I made indian tacos for mother's day.
She's adorable and sweet as can be, and has raised such a beautiful family, and her hearing aids made for some entertaining yelling matches across the back porch. She was of course glad that I'd had fun on my “campout,” and was clueless about this “french climate thing” that her president had just dropped out of. I aggravated her by refusing to use disposable plates in a single-person household that generates a bag of trash per day, and grossed her out pretty good by either not flushing every time, or just evacuating outside. She got me back with her inability to conceive of a world without oil, when she should have been the family member least removed from a simpler time. Tried the whole 'no money' idea too, but how will the family afford to drive across town to get to work? Bless her heart. But even as off-the-deep-end as it must seem I've fallen, I also returned with prayer in my life, while alcohol had vanished.
We pray in different ways. To me, all are valid. To her, not so much. I did go to church with her once though, first time in a long time, and it wasn't near as bad as I had prepped myself for. The guest pastor's sermon was about becoming stronger through adversity. Facing challenges head-on with the faith that you will be better for it. Humility. I agreed with every word. This place wasn't that bad after all.
Except that I understood the prejudice built into these walls. I knew the backstory explaining the recent string of guest pastors. This particular conglomeration of sixteen presbyterian churches, recently voted to allow homosexual preachers to provide spiritual counsel on a church by church basis. In backwoods conservative carolina, progressive indeed, way to go dixie.
Of course, the mere possibility of having to interact with someone different from themselves, pushed members of the church, including some of my family, to pledge to leave the congregation, “if the gays take over.” Then their long time minister retired and stopped by the house with the new guy, everyone in the church was in love, at least until someone facebook stalked him and discovered his idea of a good time. Half the church kept their word and boycotted, forcing the organization to reorganize their leadership. The defecting members returned, having successfully persecuted one of God's children over differing religious beliefs, so half of the rest of them boycotted the returning bigots, unwilling to share a place of worship with such hatred and lack of compassion. Maybe a little of the humility that today's lesson touched on, except that a cloud of homophobia drove away all those willing to attempt to understand something outside of their indoctrinated comfort zone.
But I survived church. I survived the small town lifestyle I spent my life escaping. I couldn't have done it without my own prayer though. Without a bundle of Sage and some reassuring words to remind myself of the importance of my mission. Being without an inipi, without ceremony, without a spiritual leader, without a fire to pray into, without the Lakota way of life around every corner, it somehow made my connection to spirit even stronger. I was forced to rely solely on my heart to get me through, had to stay continuously humbled and walk in prayer just to stay sane, it strengthened my faith as it strengthened the words of 'Step One.' Anyone can preach to their own choir, it's much more transformative to learn to preach to another's. Just another evolution of strength through adversity.
As the time was nearing to begin typing the book, my concerted lack of planning received ridicule from those who see nothing wrong with our fractured civilization. Where will I go? How will I survive? How will I possibly eat without money? An answer of believing in the abundance of an all powerful planet won't satisfy the query. Faith in God to provide for me as I actively pour love out to all, well that won't do, even God needs money to operate. Belittling criticisms of our entire movement, a legion of slackers living off the pockets of others, a community risking persecution and prosecution, sacrificing safety and comfort to stand up for what they believe in, protecting the people of a planet who can't speak up for herself, and making our home a better place while spreading the message of universal love. And all funded by the donations of the followers of our doctrines, those at home who support the changes we intend to make upon a broken world, those praying that no matter what we do, we don't give up. How again is this job any different than that of a beloved politician or neighborhood minister? Oh yeah, you fired him too. Touché.
So I stayed strong in my faith, as I held on tight to the one Lakota prayer song I'd managed to learn, and finished writing the last page of the book, on the night before a ride and a computer manifested itself into my path. And now I find myself on an overnight bus, as I travel to a fully self-sustained farm capable of providing everything I could possibly need to survive. Just gotta believe.
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Exhausted from a world of exhaust, feeling rewarded for a job well done and grateful for a reunion of brothers returning to ceremony, I was reminded just how intricate the web of life is woven, and that as long as I trust in the universe, my devotion to spreading unconditional love will have me in the exact right place to truly impact the greater good. As I boarded the bus, I was drawn to sit next to a peruvian woman near the back. I intended to type on the trip, but conversation organically developed and it became apparent that we were meant to be travel companions.
She was on a path of bettering her eating habits, as she continued to learn about the connections between the horrors of our country's agriculture industry and her lifetime of chronic illness. She was also on her way home after a trip to the Cherokee reservation, in search of healing from ptsd, specifically, she was hoping to find a sweat lodge. Needless to say, we hit it off as we traded stories of the good, the bad, and the Ugli fruit, although our conversation seemed to be focused more on the nutjobs down at the FDA.
Walnuts to be exact. A miracle food. Capable of sustaining human life, yet only five percent of our population incorporates the naturally evolved menu of tree nuts into their diet. Rich in omega-3s, antioxidants, free radical killer, cholesterol lowerer, healthy heart advocate, and they're even shown to stop cancer growth in mice, so no wonder the FDA wants to classify them as a regulated drug. Can't have our sickly consumers going nutty as they derail the gravy train of the pharmaceutical giants, the only ones able to afford the price tag on their costly approval process. But alas, turns out that the FDA didn't actually want to make headlines faster than a corduroy pillow, they were merely using their intimidation techniques to censor the health claims being made from the all-natural walnut industry. If it's not made in a lab, then you can't advertise its health benefits. Only drugs heal people. Please see plastic packaging for possible side effects.
And then there's the Almond orchards still trying to squeeze out every last drop from a dilapidated landscape. Forced to live in a dried out desert without access to water, so the only option is to steal it from the poor as we further liquidate the rich. Barren of the buzz necessary to pollinate such excessive nutfarms, we literally ship eighty percent of the nation's commercial Honeybees across the country for two weeks of double dipping. A contrived process which is no doubt just as destructive to the insect's way of life, as the other myriad of offenses we've enacted in the name of winning the convenience war.
But whatever would we do without our nut based knockoff of an animal by-product? One that we didn't even evolve to consume, and only in recent western culture have we replaced the healthy habit of lacto-fermentation, with destructive homogenization and the even more hazardous process of pasteurization. Probably shoulda just drank the two-thousand gallons of water that it took to produce that cup of milk, or twice that for the Almond alternative.
But no worries, even after the Bees have stopped milking the Almonds, once our chemicals and technologies have driven their populations into the ground, the same tech company will be there to pick us back up. How convenient. They have robo-bees now. For real, no joke, robotic bees to facilitate the artificial pollination of agriculture's highest tech, but does it still count as organic? And RoboHoney? Are we now entering a dystopic future of full metal yellowjackets? Are we saving an ecosystem, or are we just validating our destruction in the pursuit of progress? No need to worry about the damage of our future poisons and frequency jammers, as long as we keep at it, we'll be able to replace the ecocide with tomorrow's technology.
Or they could just replace us. I'm pretty sure I've seen these stingers in a teenage mutant video game before, no doubt fully hackable by the NSA and their latest scapegoat of terror. Outfitted with camera and microphone as it surveils undetected, or sleeper cells packing a stinger full of genocidal neurotoxin, but we already knew that agriculture was poisonous. That's right, this wasn't even an ecosystem, it was a giant field of a modified monocrop that a disparate farmer was cornered into buying from monsanto. And now that their genetic pesticides have killed off the Bees even faster than they're killing us, well, guess the farmer's on the hook to order a big ol' box of beebots by spring.
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This way of life is absurd. A completely unsustainable globaculture of agribusiness, where our only solution to the endless list of problems we create, is to comically throw more problems at them. But the thing is, I like technology too. Far more useful than agriculture as we expand the evolution of the human experience. I may be on a path of minimal plugging-in, as I return to the old ways in search of wisdom and understanding, but part of that is understanding that I will never understand the complexity of this cosmic web. For me to believe in any type of divine purpose for the universe, or for myself, it would be pretty short sighted to write-off the miraculous things possible through innovations of the heart. Although progress is the executioner of perfection, it would still be naive to assume that nothing good could come out of this digital destruction.
As agents of information, together we've evolved the collective unconsciousness to this incredible level, a simply complex understanding of how the mechanics of the material world function. How could this have been for nothing? How can I retain a concept of any cosmic order, if this has all been some type of anomaly. So there you go, whether or not I'll ever be enlightened to the magnitude of our interconnectedness, I certainly believe that there is a future capable of integrating technology with an existence beneficial to our planet.
We're not there yet though. It will take an honest introspection to even begin to catalog the obstacles that technology puts in our path, and somehow all in the name of convenience. Like our complete disconnect from the non-human natural world, or from each other, or from ourselves. Or the environmental impacts due to the production and installation of solar panels, as they currently justify our growing dependence on electricity. If there's any chance of ever experiencing a true techno-utopia, free of destructive oppression and oppressive destruction, I only see one way for the math to ever work out. We have to remove money from the equation.
If we can dissolve the only motive that would ever necessitate a way of life blinded to the environmental cost of low prices, we can begin to use our newfangled science to offer reparations to the natural world that we destroyed as fast as we discovered. We also have to continue to remember that we are natural. We are nature. We are not above it. We are not better than any of the rest. We absolutely must end the bigotry of human supremacy. Money has been the instrument of prioritizing the classes of our own kind, but even without it, we will have to relearn that we are not in charge of the planet, we are in charge of taking care of her.