Global Garden: Sowing Seeds

      In the past few weeks, more people than I can remember have made the analogy of sowing seeds throughout this world.  I know that nothing is chance in this lifetime, so it was definitely for me to digest, or I guess a better way to put it would be that I had to let those seeds germinate within me. Carlos in Memphis who sleeps on a sidewalk with a twinkle in his eyes, told me that our mission in life is to sprinkle as many seeds around the world as we can and just hope that some of those germinate into beautiful ideas that ripple through time. I wholeheartedly agree.

Image from Guerrilla Gardener's Blog

      The thought really burst out of the proverbial soil after we spent an evening with the Judd's imbibing spirits of all shapes and sizes, talking about the spectrum of existence, and ending the evening with how a household can find balance in the masculine and feminine, ensuring a positive upbringing for their spirited child. There were some suggestions, many settling on material surroundings, and mostly because I think there weren't any good answers at the time. It was still very much a question, which is a seed right? The conversation that Bex and I were having on the way home began with the topic of goddess worship and who is a groovy deity to begin worshipping. We settled on our physical mothers being a great place to start and that spiraled into the comparison of Gaia to Mother Earth.

      I made the case that Mother Earth has been reduced to this inanimate surface we walk upon, some of us acknowledging her sacred nature, while others just refer casually to the rock as Mother Earth. Gaia, however, has the connotation of a holistic living being, encompassing the many facets that make up the whole being. Gaia is you as much as the snale as much as the seed. Words, I know, but if we are to dissect the misunderstandings and lethargy of spirit that is currently pandemic, then we've got to get to the root. Spontaneously in that moment, the reflection on twenty-nine years lived upon Gaia and all that I see before me, the people in my life, the bounty, the struggles, etc., it all just fit together into this amazing puzzle. Bang! The fruits I enjoy are literally the manifestation of the seeds I have sown throughout my life!

      Moments when we are in deep communion and understanding with a friend or family member, that isn't because of some random aligning of the stars. It is because someone, or maybe many people, yourself included, had sown some seed in some time and that seed or seeds germinated. Thus, a true moment is born. If you have ever worked with kids, had kids, known a kid, then you have probably said or done something in front of them that took root and grew into a piece of them. If you smoke and drink and cuss and don't give a shit, watch that seed sprout and grow the mangled roots in those young eyes watching you. If you love, respect, praise, and give...watch that same set of young eyes grow into a caring and nurturing soul, with rocket fuel for a spirit. It's not accidental how this goes down. 

      A garden does not plant itself. A meadow, forest, plains, they can shift themselves over time without any help from humans, but a garden is very much a human idea and contrivance. It is a positive one, though. Mr. Rogers said "You can grow ideas in the garden of your mind." The mind/body/spirit is no different from the garden you plant outside in the dirt. If love, care and attention are put into the garden, plants with flourish and bounty will be rendered. If it is neglected and put lower on the priority list under TV and masturbating, my guess is you're going to have a rather underperforming garden. 

      Patience is another tenet of this philosophical wandering. Seeds don't germinate and grow into huge Ponderosa Pines overnight. They take decades, hundreds of years! So you put a beautiful idea into the world and you see nothing from it tomorrow!?! Relax. The best things take time, and who knows, maybe that idea doesn't germinate and take shape until you're dead and gone. Will that prevent you from sowing the seed? This life, yes it is for you. Yes it is about your spiritual growth and enlightenment. But the you is not you. You are merely a plant in the global garden. So let go of the ego, settle into your insignificance, and remember you were always who you were meant to be.

      From the perspective of permaculture, it seems to make simple sense. Put in the work TODAY to start prepping that soil, sow the best seeds at the best times, and get that garden moving in the direction you see as beautiful. Maybe when you're old and gray, children and neighbors and friends and animals and spirits will wander into your garden to grab a bite, or maybe just catch some shade from the wild world they're living in. Seems like a better scenario than eating dust and Spam. 

Ruby Slipper

      The perfect job. The perfect dress. The perfect haircut. The perfect house. The perfect husband. The perfect body. The perfect breakfast. The perfect words. The perfect car. The perfect song. The perfect pretty piece of pie. And it's all mine.
      Well, I don't know about any of you out, but I have never in my pursuit of happiness encountered anything that was in itself, perfect. There are most definitely things that happen, or resources that pop up at the perfect time, objects that are perfect in that time...but there is nothing in this whole world that is perfect. Most cultures around the world who have deep roots in reality and the natural world don't even have a word for perfection. It is an intellectual pursuit, not an emotional or spiritual understanding. We place objects and ideas on a pedestal, just like in a museum, so we can stand back to analyze, critique, and idealize what potential this thing has.

"You can't go around an experience, brother. You've got to go through it."     

 Let me tell a little story to start. I found myself in New Orleans after a considerable trek across this country, having seen some incredible highs and some unbelievable lows. So many of the highs we experienced were based on people's pursuit of authenticity, whereas the lows were almost always connected with the romanticized pursuit of perfection. Mini-malls and shopping complexes covering the land to curate the perfect shopping experience, so those living nearby would never have to run into the pesky beast of discomfort, which for them would be the perception of poverty. The ironic thing being that the suburbs and urban sprawl, a faux-middle class, are the very mechanisms that create poverty and homelessness. Looking into the eyes of women who literally put on a mask to step out into a world that tells them they have to look and act a certain way, just like those pretty perfect faces in magazines and on billboards, in movies and shows everywhere. So folks start selling out their own health and wellness for the perfect.
   

      Our stay in New Orleans was shaping up to be an amazing time, staying at the India House  hostel, which was incredible and the place to be, music happening organically everywhere we carried instruments, conversation springing up from the cracks in the ground, and a high vibration unlike many places in this world. We took the trolly downtown on a Thursday night into the French Quarter, popping into clubs and bars to go and find the sound. We caught a solid female-fronted reggae band, great Jazz and Funk, some good Blues, street corner Hip-Hop-Truth-Fire, and sounds pouring out from every nook and cranny. With the night getting pretty late, 2 or 3am, we hopped into our last stop where we found a very normal funk band who were at least holding it down. A cat got up and belted Superstitious by Stevie Wonder and ended the set on a good note for sure.
      Leaving and thinking our night was coming to a close, somewhat disappointedly, one of the ladies we were with forgot her phone in the club and had to go back for it. When you start losing shit, that's when doors really open up. They came back and informed us that we had all been invited to come chill at a tucked in spot with a heated pool and salt water hot tub. Of course. So we all roll over to the spot and are met by an incredibly interesting little corner of the city, with a fire pit and groovy pool, open bar, and decent sound system. Good vibes, plus rarely do we ever say no to a tripped out experience.

      The crowd hanging out was fascinating. Cream-skinned and plump people abounded, kind of like some Greco-Roman throwback experience. The men were really quite cherub-like, and the women were like strange ghosts in the whole scene. Definitely a boys club. But the cat who sang Stevie was there, so we sparked a spliff and got down to it. Him and I immediately began vibing and talking about things on the realer side of life. He was traveling and spreading the music love, but I could tell that he was grounded in the heart. After a minute, I decided to lead the charge into the pool, so I got naked (when in Rome, or pseudoRome) and hopped in. Swimming around and chatting with the cats in the hot tub, I started asking them what made them tick. The answers were as I expected, idealized notions of decadent living. This was just a pedestrian stop for them on their endless journey to the top, but it was good for now. 

      It was becoming more and more clear to me that this was where the night's lesson would be. The veil was becoming thinner and thinner by the moment and the lesson that was coming through was all about the perception of perfection. Here was a group of characters who were obviously taken care of, had what they needed and much much more, but were dissatisfied with it all still. And to top it off, apparently the pool we were swimming in had a name. The Pool of Souls. The story goes that when digging up the spot for the pool, they found a whole mess of graves underneath, and since exhuming all of those pesky graves was too expensive, they decided to remove some and form the pool around the remaining coffins. Of course! Buried culture in your way? Fuck it, let's build a pool! So the cherubs were chilling in a graveyard, getting high on decadence, standing on the souls of others to get that much closer to the top. When the lessons come, they are really coming.
     Just about that time, in perfect synchronicity, the fella with the spliff comes over and asks me if I liked the song Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. I said of course, and all my friends do too in fact. So we all took a moment to sing the song together, embrace the love in it all, and cut through the remainder of the veil with that gentle and beautiful liquid sword. So for the next couple of hours, we all talked about the heart inside of everything, our divine purpose for being there, and how beautiful it feels to be in love with love and life. I found the difference between me and decadent even melted away, and rather than looking at it as the enemy, it just became part of the process. A step on the journey, something to get beyond. The murderer becoming the saint after realizing what an awful course they have led, but if they were never the murderer they could never have been the saint. You dig? The folks indulging, the difference and whatever anger I was feeling towards them was escaping me. Truth inside of everything is divine, the walls we put between us and it are matters of perception.
      The souls in the courtyard were speaking loud and clear now as well. Having tuned into the voices beyond, there was really one resounding sentiment, which was that no matter how much the uncomfortable men of this world try to pave over, sterilize, and clean away the diverse and deep culture of the world...it will always spring through the cracks in their pavement. Every time. But they also implored me to spread the word that there is a sickness in this world. And it is the need to run from the real. I mean, that's it, right? Mini-malls, make-up, fast cars, big houses, security systems, pop music, microwavable food, etc. etc. These things, in themselves, are acts of running. Covering. Keeping the truth of feeling just out of arms reach.
      As the sun started to come up, we decided it was probably best to move on, so we packed up and jumped out of the little vortex we had been chilling in, back to the city streets of Nawlins. Countless delivery trucks with alcohol and far-away food, black and brown men toiling, tired eyes looking right through me, trash barges, trains filled with oil, garbage on river shores. The shadow that is the pursuit of perfection, it is all around us. Walk anywhere in this country and you will see the result of our collective need for comfort. I am certainly by no means exempt from this. I don't know many people who are. If you drive a car, shop at the grocery, buy clothes at the store, order products online, whatever it may be...that simple action imposes degradation on the remainder of the world solely so we can curate and manicure the perfect life. Look at it. Don't roll your eyes.
      Our story really peaks at Cafe Du Monde. There was a gal in our group that with the best intentions wanted to go have a Cafe and Beignets at the spot. The rest of the group was a bit apprehensive, me actually trying to steer us away, but we were supposed to purge something. So we jumped in. Sitting down, the waitress asked if we wanted six coffees and beignets, which we all promptly replied that there was only one order. You could see our friend and the waitress were in an awkward growth moment, but se la vie. Coffee and Beignet arrived, or awful acrid juice and funnel cake really. I could see the wheels were turning in her heart, and this little fairy tale about what the perfect New Orleans experience is supposed to be was slipping through her hands like sand. As a Buddha I met living on the streets of Springfield once told me, "You can't go around an experience, brother. You've got to go through it."

      After it was all settled, the discomfort passed, we all said jah bless and most of us parted ways. Will, our Aztec spirit-guide Larissa, and myself decided that we needed some more low key people watching, so our journey finished up at a spot called the Ruby Slipper. Ha! We sat down and just kind of unpacked the evening, talked about our need to be closer with our spirit and purpose, the divinity of the feminine, and ultimately just laughing our faces off about the comedy unfolding constantly in front of us. But my reflection at the end of it all is this:

      Our pursuit of perfection, the need to fulfill a conditioned fairy tale....not only does this degrade our own spirit and purpose, taking us further and further from our personal truth, it also imposes a radically destructive culture onto the rest of this world. Ecological collapse is upon us because we can't step outside of our fairy tale. Life has to look like this and I am willing to do whatever it takes to get there. If you sit in silence and think about how so much of what surrounds you is part of the story you've created, then follow that to the cost upon someone else's shoulders that your wants create, it becomes quite transparent that our dreams turn other people's lives into nightmares.

      Let go of the story in your mind and sit in the absolute now. Piece by piece you will shed the wants and get down to the needs. Besides, the less time you spend wanting, the more time you can devote to giving. Tis the season, right?

Mission to Standing Rock

   

      Will and I have been traveling the country for a couple of weeks now, but it all started with a trip to Standing Rock. I wrote a little article about our experience there and it was posted onto Roy Ghim's Frederick blog, Western Machines.

      Check it: http://www.western-machines.com/standing-up-at-standing-rock/

R.I.S.E.

      Waking up this morning, crawling out of my sleeping bag and thanking the goddess that I woke for another day here, I am reminded that there are countless other people in this city pulling themselves from synthetic bags just like mine. Except theirs are probably not under a roof with running water and heat. I am blessed to be here.
      My time in Memphis has been an extraordinarily fast paced lesson in the duality that plays between darkness and light, and how both can be just as blinding. There are a fair amount of men and women who are homeless living in the forgotten nooks and crannies of Memphis, with a seemingly endless spectrum of circumstances determining their situations. All of them bound by the same instinct we all share, but only the lucky few get to have survival imposed upon them every moment of their lives. (sarcasm)
      Since leaving Standing Rock, we have basically been driving south and distributing extra food, clothing, camping gear, hygienic supplies, and most of the time just cash out of our pockets. It has been striking to meet so many people whose eyes show the deepest sorrows, the oldest traumas, and the cries for help that have been unanswered for so long. Just stopping to shake someone's hand and give them the respect to be listened to has often times been more healing for them than some hand warmers and a jacket. That single moment when they remember that they aren't actually invisible.
      The invisibility effect is actually something that really struck me as a young man, seeing people living on the streets and being practically invisible to everyone who was passing. The night we pulled into Memphis we packed up a big plastic bag full of supplies and our plan was to cruise around town and just sprinkle some light on folks as the need arose. The effect, however, was that we became pretty much invisible to everyone who wasn't without a home and also came a step closer to the people who were.  Folks milling about on their evening in the city, dressed up and ready to party had the obvious notion that Will and myself were also homeless, thus giving us the temporary super power of invisibility.

      None of the probably thousands of people we passed even so much as batted an eye at us, unless they had an instrument in their hands or holes in their stale and dirty clothes. This was startling at first, but quickly I found a really lovely kinship with the salt of the earth, and felt the rift between me and 'normalcy' rapidly increasing. The desire to be a part of the fold was almost non-existent before coming into town, and was certainly eradicated quite quickly once setting foot into the real. But there was something particularly special about those living on the streets, as opposed to those who were just traveling upon them.
      Here lies the point...every single time we spotted someone who the world seemed to painfully bend around, we found an individual who had the truth. Through mumbles and broken words, when we dropped in with that person they would start spilling gems and nuggets that were blowing our minds. Every time we would walk away cracking up and feeling high because we felt like we just been blessed. And I believe we were.
      See, the people who look like they're in a hurry, running to their next meeting or appointment, rocking the fresh threads and keeping it all tied up so tight...they avert their eyes, walk a little faster and suddenly have a whole string of texts to answer on their phone when they spot a homeless individual, not because they are afraid of that person; It's not even because they are repulsed by them. If that was why folks became invisible, then it would actually be a lot more simple to suss out the issue. But the reason is so much more personal, and I will let you know something too...everyone who reads this suffers from the symptoms in some degree. You are not immune.
      The cause of the chasm between the person living on the street and the person walking on the street is simply, and oh-so-complicated, the fear of ourselves. (I'm going to bring it down to the personal, instead of doing you's and them's) If I see someone on the street and I meet eyes with them, I start a conversation, then I could either not listen and tell them I don't have any change, never to see them again I'm sure; or, I could abandon the wall I have built between me and them, listen with my heart, laugh with them, sit and roll a spliff and share a story, give them everything I have because they need it more every single time, and probably learn something from this hidden lotus Buddha growing from the cracks in our city streets.
      Both options result in me getting to where I need to go, but one involves the soul, heart, mind synthesis, and the other is just us running from the shadow once again.  That shadow will most certainly be there around the next corner as well, twice as big and scary.  Have you recognized that these situations are really just living prayers? Maybe try it sometime. You see someone in need and rather than coming up with a sack full of excuses why you don't need to care, remember that there is only one reason why you could. And I'll take one good reason over a heap of excuses any day. What begins to happen though is our senses become heightened, our eyes wake up, our heart emerges as the driver, and suddenly spirit begins presenting itself at every turn.
      I grew up to think the simple choice between Love and Fear was kind of bullshit, mostly, honestly, from the scene in Donnie Darko where that awful bible-thumping lady and Patrick Swayze are making the case for all things being based around Love and Fear. I commiserated with Donnie and pretty much made up my mind right there. Well, I was 14, and remained an idiot and fool for a long time after, and in many ways am still just as foolish.
      But the truth is I've learned some things too. One thing that I know for certain, and I dare to even claim certainty, is that the shadow we see around us is the shadow that lurks within us. Only a complete commitment in this life to walk in our heart's space will offer any hope to the problematic world we seem to be lamenting so much. Stop running away from created fear, turn to face it. If suffering is only a perspective, then flip the switch right now and watch your whole world flip too.