As I drove away from a farm in upstate New York after sunset Christmas Eve night, I drove through a village center lined with plastic jugs. Shops in the town were open, and when I parked, a man walked out of the church and lit a candle in the first jug. Then the next. When I came out of the natural foods store, lights were shining for half a mile. I smiled when I looked at those candles and the colored lights adorning houses and shops. Though we got lost in the giving of stuff, the holiday never really lost its meaning. Light is still what we celebrate in habitual ritual. We celebrate because we're leaving the darkness and coming to the light.
The woman in the natural foods store was excited to hear about political young people coming in, and farming. She said, "that is just what we need!" Her card points me to a website about the dangers of fracking. Apparently there are a lot of people who want to sell to the fracking industry up there, and she's been trying to illuminate her neighbors to the danger. Let's join her.
Let's grow food. Let's grow community. Let's grow the changes, from the ground up.
"Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet, and the wind longs to play with your hair." (Khalil Gibran)
The time has come for us to play this game with life. To dare ourselves to dream big and work in service to those dreams. The earth needs us to play with light hearts, and allow her to nourish us back to health. Our society is sick. We are suffering. The planet suffers with us. The videos and photos of sea life from the gulf coast after the oil spill and the dispersants makes my stomach turn and my tears pool. When the oceans rise, will we be glad we didn't have to wear our winter coats? Andrew Faust said the other day (and probably many times before that) that its a totally encouraging circumstance that our climate change crisis is caused by humans. That means the power to change it is also in our hands. We can change. We must.
So, there I was, in my pre-solstice funk, trying to keep myself from falling apart, when from up on the roof there arose such a clatter.
Something like that. The other day I was faced with a choice. Go to this job that I feel totally misaligned with but am afraid to leave because my income stream is so unsteady and small OR go to a meeting of Occupy Farms, which was just starting to reveal itself to me as something totally in alignment with the visions and goals I have been walking towards for years. With tears running down my face, I walked around lower midtown knowing I had just hit on something true. It was only a tiny hint of a good feeling, but it resonated deeply. Needless to say, I did not go to work. I went to the meeting and today I went to the farm. Thank all that is holy, my heart still tells me what to do. Its been quiet for weeks, while I have been struggling to maintain composure without knowing where to sow the seeds of my life.
When it is winter, I have easy patience with the frozen ground which does not bear fruit. May I learn to have that same patience with my heart when it is quiet.
The farm. The farm is a piece of land. A beautiful piece of land. It is not a productive food farm at this time, although apples and berries most certainly grow there. Horses and dogs roam freely, gracing the earth with the nourishment of their footseps and their manure. They were all rescued by the kind, generous, free-spirited elders on whose land we're plotting to cultivate some serious joy.
I'm excited. So many times I have set off for the sunset with conviction, and this time, there are sundowners before and behind me, ready to walk the path together. This is the time we are upon. This is where we belong. If we are willing to invest the time and energy to this work, be sincere and acknowledge the sacred, the sacred will come forth and delight in our attention.
Let us be good stewards of this place.
do you kill by jackie dandelion