He sits down across the wide table from me. Opens a very thick manila file. Shuffles through a stack of applications, and pulls mine out. Offers a few criticisms about the organization of my information, then begins: "So, what would your ideal work situation be?" He's not an employer, he's an employment counselor. And I'm about to get more counsel than I bargained for.
He waits, unspeaking, while I gather up scattered thoughts. I don't think he blinks. His neatly styled hair, sharp eyes, and no-wrinkle shirt are all steel grey. His jaw is square and he doesn't mince words. So I try not to, either. "If we're talking ideal, then I'd like to help people. Maybe to learn how to grow their own food, or to do something with holistic healing." These of course aren't the only answers to the question. Just two of the top ones that come to mind. He writes them down at the top of a blank page. "What action have you taken toward those goals?" he queries. I mention volunteering, reading, an occasional workshop if it doesn't cost too much. "What is your plan for getting to the work you want to do?" he continues. Okay, now we're getting to the heart of the matter. Now we're getting to the questions I really don't have answers for.
He continues, with a very predictable list of the actions he recommends. Devote serious time to job-hunting. Be optimistic. Get out there and "sell yourself". Be assertive: keep contacting the employer until you get a definite answer. All great advice, by the book, I know. And all concepts that I thoroughly don't relate to. Especially not when the jobs in question are menial, low-paying, drudge work. He asks why I didn't finish college. Wow, that's at least 3 different stories. He offers the feedback that I'm displaying a certain amount of "reluctance" toward his suggestions. Yeah, you got that right.
He tries another tactic. "I'm going to tell you about a few of the jobs that are available right now. Maybe something here will raise some interest." He leafs through the list. It's probably more than a dozen pages long. He reads, File Clerk. Auto Dealership Receptionist. Hospital Staff. Construction. Warehouse. Call Center Representative. Wow, how could I refuse? I gather up what I hope is a polite voice, out of growing discouragement. "I hope I haven't wasted your time," I say. "I do appreciate the information, but this has clarified something for me: making money is not nearly as important to me, at this point, as job satisfaction. As doing something I can relate to." It feels good to say this. It feels true. Even if it's irrational. Even if it means that I'd go on relying on the generosity of friends, or start sleeping in my truck if need be, if that's what it takes to keep my peace of mind. My sense of not "selling myself".
"I have to say," he remarks, "that you don't fit the demographic of my typical client. Most people are in here worried about feeding four kids, and willing to take any job they can find." He speculates that the difference here has to do with "education" and "affluence". I've been trying to be a polite listener, but this is too much. I tell him that I am grateful not to have a family to support. But that I'd like the record to show that I paid for every bit of my college myself, and have never had income above the poverty level. That I'm simply tired of meaningless labor.
We agree politely that maybe I'm not the ideal candidate for his program at this time. He gives me his card, and invites me to call anytime in the future. At the end of my ideas (having already read today's job ads), I drop by People's Flowers. Just to let them know I'm still available for work. They offer me a share of the afternoon's deliveries, on the spot, and another day of work tomorrow. Sure, flower delivery isn't saving the world. It's not empowering anybody - well, let me qualify that. I could tell some pretty cool stories about all the people who weren't expecting to get flowers. It's sharing a tiny bit of beauty. It's preserving personal autonomy - one of the biggest plusses of any driving gig. It's supporting a locally-owned business. It's reminding people of their sense of wonder (how many times that same response, "Ohhh...how beautiful!" But they really mean it.) I might put out a wish for this particular temp job to turn into something. Or at least to turn into more temp work. In the currently frantic game of musical chairs that is the job market, it wouldn't be too bad a place to land.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
2 quotes
Current library find: one book that connects and contrasts the two countries that pique my interest the most right now. I did not know, before picking up this book, that Octavio Paz was Mexico's ambassador to India for most of the 60's. In just over 200 pages he's attempting to give a historical overview, a brief travel memoir, and a social-political-cultural-spiritual comparison with his own land, all at once. I won't even try to summarize this fascinating book, beyond that. These are just a couple quotes from a section exploring the roles of free will, spiritual worldviews and one's place in society: as usual, whatever I'm reading pitches in its two cents' worth (or more) on my current most relevant conversations with friends. An activist friend just tried, I think, to suggest some of these same things to me earlier this week. Love how that happens. (Paz begins here from the Hindu viewpoint, and some of these thoughts are specific to that, but I think his observations expand rapidly into some larger questions of existence. At least, they fired this Aquarian imagination in that direction.)
"He who seeks liberation does not see his body as an obstacle, but rather as an instrument. Ascetic practices, even the most severe, are a progressive mastering of the body. The yogi does not seek to separate his soul from the body, like the Platonic mystic; he wants to convert it into a weapon of liberation. Or, more exactly: into a trampoline that will spring him into the Absolute."
"...For us in the West, freedom has a political dimension. We are always asking ourselves what is the nature of our relations with the divinity or with the environment that surrounds us, whether biological or social. Are we truly free, or is our freedom conditional? Is it divine grace, or is it an act in which the mystery of the human person is revealed? These questions and others of their kind lead us to situate our freedom in the world. Freedom is not an ideal for abandoning the world but, rather, for making the world habitable."
-- Octavio Paz, In Light Of India
"He who seeks liberation does not see his body as an obstacle, but rather as an instrument. Ascetic practices, even the most severe, are a progressive mastering of the body. The yogi does not seek to separate his soul from the body, like the Platonic mystic; he wants to convert it into a weapon of liberation. Or, more exactly: into a trampoline that will spring him into the Absolute."
"...For us in the West, freedom has a political dimension. We are always asking ourselves what is the nature of our relations with the divinity or with the environment that surrounds us, whether biological or social. Are we truly free, or is our freedom conditional? Is it divine grace, or is it an act in which the mystery of the human person is revealed? These questions and others of their kind lead us to situate our freedom in the world. Freedom is not an ideal for abandoning the world but, rather, for making the world habitable."
-- Octavio Paz, In Light Of India
Monday, September 21, 2009
what you are doing
It's morning, and bluesky gorgeous. A perfect Equinoctical (would that be the word?) balance of summerfall. I'm making the familiar walk, from the free parking spots on Silver up to Winning Coffee. It takes about 10 minutes. The little gardens on the way - flowers, a few tomatoes, corn, herbs - are at their peak, and I greet them, grateful for their presence. Like my own nomadic plants, they remind how beauty continues to come to Light. By nature. Even in the midst of the concrete corruption and chaos.
A woman walks a little ahead of me. She's a few paces slower, and eventually I catch up to her. Since there's nobody on the other side of the street, and I'm going that way anyway, I cross over. Seems the easiest thing to do. A moment later, she crosses too, and steps onto the sidewalk right in front of me. I try not to get bugged at this -- what a silly thing to be bugged about, on such a beautiful day. And at the same moment, I become aware that my breathing is kind of shallow, my upper body tense, everything just a fraction more hurried than it needs to be. This is an old habit (could blame pizza delivery, but I was an impatient intense idealist way before that). So I start trying to correct it, in that moment. Just as the message moves from brain to body - slower, deeper, present/er - the woman beside me turns and speaks. Loudly. "Do you know what you are doing?" she asks. I stare blankly. "Your left shoulder is lower than your right," she continues. Her voice is strong, her words come out with confident emphasis. "You're tensing that whole side of your body, and it's affecting your breathing and your posture. You may think I'm strange for saying so, but I'm a yoga teacher, so I see these things. You might want to think about that!"
Thoughts aren't exactly confined to time, right? Surely others have had the experience of at least 5 distinct threads of thought unwinding, all complete, and all in the space of a second or less. This is what's happening in my mind, as this woman speaks. The thoughtthreads include:
-- Is she really talking to me?
-- OH NO. Not another middle-aged woman offering free "constructive criticism"...
-- She's right, of course. I always carry my book bag on the left shoulder, and that's a habit that has its effect over time.
-- How strange! If only she knew that I was already trying to improve my breathing and posture, and her words were interrupting that effort!
-- Who does she think she is, anyway?
-- Okay, she's a yoga teacher. She knows a lot on a certain subject. She has people's well-being in mind. She probably sees bad posture everywhere she goes. If I were in her position I'd probably want to share my wisdom with strangers on the street too. Or at least, I'd fight the urge to do that.
-- Wow, I know something about a few subjects too. What if I went around giving such candid feedback to random people, out of my observations? "Do you know what emotions you are beaming out to all of us? Do you realize what unacknowledged pain you're still holding onto, that you could do something different with? Do you have any idea of the striking similarities between you and the group you've been labelling? Do you not see the beautiful commonalities - and even common struggles - that you could empower each other with, if you could just get past your labels for a minute?
-- Or how about this: "Do you have any idea how lovely you are? Do you yourself get to feel the joy, the fearlessness, the acceptance, or the healing that you're beaming out to others around you? Do you have any idea how inspiring your word, or gesture, of encouragement was that one time? Do you realize what courage you re-membered me to, by speaking freely about your encounters with the Magic and the Mystery?"
All those thoughts were there, in the second it took me to respond. All of them, simultaneous. I couldn't speak because the thoughts were so thick. How many people recognize the already-flowing river into which they pour their own cup of words? Finally I said "Thank you...", although it probably sounded less than sincere. I guess I can appreciate her concern. I can surely appreciate her for reminding me of all I did - and didn't - want to share with people, myself. That last thought up there's the one I'd like to carry out into the world more. Maybe I will, soon. Maybe a little bit more at a time. While I keep improving my ability to breathe deep and stand up straight.
A woman walks a little ahead of me. She's a few paces slower, and eventually I catch up to her. Since there's nobody on the other side of the street, and I'm going that way anyway, I cross over. Seems the easiest thing to do. A moment later, she crosses too, and steps onto the sidewalk right in front of me. I try not to get bugged at this -- what a silly thing to be bugged about, on such a beautiful day. And at the same moment, I become aware that my breathing is kind of shallow, my upper body tense, everything just a fraction more hurried than it needs to be. This is an old habit (could blame pizza delivery, but I was an impatient intense idealist way before that). So I start trying to correct it, in that moment. Just as the message moves from brain to body - slower, deeper, present/er - the woman beside me turns and speaks. Loudly. "Do you know what you are doing?" she asks. I stare blankly. "Your left shoulder is lower than your right," she continues. Her voice is strong, her words come out with confident emphasis. "You're tensing that whole side of your body, and it's affecting your breathing and your posture. You may think I'm strange for saying so, but I'm a yoga teacher, so I see these things. You might want to think about that!"
Thoughts aren't exactly confined to time, right? Surely others have had the experience of at least 5 distinct threads of thought unwinding, all complete, and all in the space of a second or less. This is what's happening in my mind, as this woman speaks. The thoughtthreads include:
-- Is she really talking to me?
-- OH NO. Not another middle-aged woman offering free "constructive criticism"...
-- She's right, of course. I always carry my book bag on the left shoulder, and that's a habit that has its effect over time.
-- How strange! If only she knew that I was already trying to improve my breathing and posture, and her words were interrupting that effort!
-- Who does she think she is, anyway?
-- Okay, she's a yoga teacher. She knows a lot on a certain subject. She has people's well-being in mind. She probably sees bad posture everywhere she goes. If I were in her position I'd probably want to share my wisdom with strangers on the street too. Or at least, I'd fight the urge to do that.
-- Wow, I know something about a few subjects too. What if I went around giving such candid feedback to random people, out of my observations? "Do you know what emotions you are beaming out to all of us? Do you realize what unacknowledged pain you're still holding onto, that you could do something different with? Do you have any idea of the striking similarities between you and the group you've been labelling? Do you not see the beautiful commonalities - and even common struggles - that you could empower each other with, if you could just get past your labels for a minute?
-- Or how about this: "Do you have any idea how lovely you are? Do you yourself get to feel the joy, the fearlessness, the acceptance, or the healing that you're beaming out to others around you? Do you have any idea how inspiring your word, or gesture, of encouragement was that one time? Do you realize what courage you re-membered me to, by speaking freely about your encounters with the Magic and the Mystery?"
All those thoughts were there, in the second it took me to respond. All of them, simultaneous. I couldn't speak because the thoughts were so thick. How many people recognize the already-flowing river into which they pour their own cup of words? Finally I said "Thank you...", although it probably sounded less than sincere. I guess I can appreciate her concern. I can surely appreciate her for reminding me of all I did - and didn't - want to share with people, myself. That last thought up there's the one I'd like to carry out into the world more. Maybe I will, soon. Maybe a little bit more at a time. While I keep improving my ability to breathe deep and stand up straight.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
refuse the delusion
One more quote from this book that I finally finished:
"This delusion has now been presented to you in full. It consists of separation, fragmentation, the loss of wholeness. There must be a final "NO!" that refuses to participate in the delusion...
There are times when I want CNN to stop running endless crises in the crawl space at the bottom of the television screen and start running these words instead so that people can be reminded about what's real:
Whatever is in the mind is like a city in the clouds.
The emergence of this world is no more than thoughts coming into manifestation.
From the infinite consciousness we have created each other in our imagination.
As long as there is 'you' and an 'I', there is no liberation. Dear ones, we are all cosmic consciousness assuming individual form."
-- Deepak Chopra, The Book of Secrets
While I might find points to question, or at least to clarify, about some of his propositions, I love the thought of words such as these appearing suddenly on CNN. Or on some such channel of our collective mediasedation. Even better, maybe you'd like to join me in imagining what other words YOU would re-energize the fearmind with, if you could for one moment be in charge of the "news" bulletins being broadcast so urgently out to the world. (I love his term "crawl space" - the psychic implications, especially, of the claustrophobic corners to which this society limits itself, from which to try and perceive reality. We're all crawling, by some crazy choice, when we could be walking free. Or at least, those who buy into the fear, and the materialism, seem to be...).
The dreamtime altered my consciousness last night with a wonderful post-apocalyptic dream. There was some kind of worldwide plague or epidemic (not necessarily The Flu of which we are asked to live in fear, or maybe it was. It wasn't specified, really). It seemed to intensify and then diminish, in waves and by regions, over time. To keep us alerted, the government (a basically benevolent entity, in this world) would send out bulletins announcing the status and the recommended actions. On this day, the outlook was not so good, and they were recommending that we all lie low and stay indoors as much as possible. The friendly community in which I lived was ready for all contingencies - plenty of food, water, all the needed supplies - and we agreed that we didn't really have much to worry about. But later in the evening, a crowd of kids came to our door, with a bunch of cheap stuff that they wanted to barter (there seemed to be a disproportionate number of unattached children in this world, out fending for themselves in groups on the streets). The door guard and I had a short discussion about whether we should open up to the kids, and whether we risked contamination by trading with them. Again, we decided to be careful, but not to worry too much. Later on (apparently, after the alert was lifted), some of us went out into the city on the bus. I felt sad to see how many streets, plazas, buildings seemed abandoned and lifeless. But then we passed through the university, a grand old complex of brick buildings and open squares, and I cheered up at the sight of the barterer's market there, full of young people with tables of beautiful objects that they had made, found or gathered.
This dream should've been dark and oppressive throughout (there was even another segment where a few of us were captured for a while, for some unknown purpose, but even then we were upbeat, pragmatic, expecting a positive outcome). But it flowed all throughout with currents of optimism, empowerment, competence, warm community, and hope. I am thankful to all the voices within, and all accompanying spirits/Spirit, that affirmed my own wish, with this dream, to refuse the delusion for another day.
"This delusion has now been presented to you in full. It consists of separation, fragmentation, the loss of wholeness. There must be a final "NO!" that refuses to participate in the delusion...
There are times when I want CNN to stop running endless crises in the crawl space at the bottom of the television screen and start running these words instead so that people can be reminded about what's real:
Whatever is in the mind is like a city in the clouds.
The emergence of this world is no more than thoughts coming into manifestation.
From the infinite consciousness we have created each other in our imagination.
As long as there is 'you' and an 'I', there is no liberation. Dear ones, we are all cosmic consciousness assuming individual form."
-- Deepak Chopra, The Book of Secrets
While I might find points to question, or at least to clarify, about some of his propositions, I love the thought of words such as these appearing suddenly on CNN. Or on some such channel of our collective mediasedation. Even better, maybe you'd like to join me in imagining what other words YOU would re-energize the fearmind with, if you could for one moment be in charge of the "news" bulletins being broadcast so urgently out to the world. (I love his term "crawl space" - the psychic implications, especially, of the claustrophobic corners to which this society limits itself, from which to try and perceive reality. We're all crawling, by some crazy choice, when we could be walking free. Or at least, those who buy into the fear, and the materialism, seem to be...).
The dreamtime altered my consciousness last night with a wonderful post-apocalyptic dream. There was some kind of worldwide plague or epidemic (not necessarily The Flu of which we are asked to live in fear, or maybe it was. It wasn't specified, really). It seemed to intensify and then diminish, in waves and by regions, over time. To keep us alerted, the government (a basically benevolent entity, in this world) would send out bulletins announcing the status and the recommended actions. On this day, the outlook was not so good, and they were recommending that we all lie low and stay indoors as much as possible. The friendly community in which I lived was ready for all contingencies - plenty of food, water, all the needed supplies - and we agreed that we didn't really have much to worry about. But later in the evening, a crowd of kids came to our door, with a bunch of cheap stuff that they wanted to barter (there seemed to be a disproportionate number of unattached children in this world, out fending for themselves in groups on the streets). The door guard and I had a short discussion about whether we should open up to the kids, and whether we risked contamination by trading with them. Again, we decided to be careful, but not to worry too much. Later on (apparently, after the alert was lifted), some of us went out into the city on the bus. I felt sad to see how many streets, plazas, buildings seemed abandoned and lifeless. But then we passed through the university, a grand old complex of brick buildings and open squares, and I cheered up at the sight of the barterer's market there, full of young people with tables of beautiful objects that they had made, found or gathered.
This dream should've been dark and oppressive throughout (there was even another segment where a few of us were captured for a while, for some unknown purpose, but even then we were upbeat, pragmatic, expecting a positive outcome). But it flowed all throughout with currents of optimism, empowerment, competence, warm community, and hope. I am thankful to all the voices within, and all accompanying spirits/Spirit, that affirmed my own wish, with this dream, to refuse the delusion for another day.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
anything happening
Back up the mountain to work, maybe for the last week. Heave a ton or two of flagstone. Finish erosion controls (which appeared to hold up well under a rain this week). Nurture the possible garden: turnips, beets, and arugula are already sprouting like crazy. Like seeds. Like life.
Today's weather forecast for the internal landscape: fair to partly biased, winds out of the distant past but calming, chance of showers of blessing in the midday. Two healing conversations have already graced me since morning. They offered perhaps different affirmations than I had hoped, but which I can surely use.
Earlier, on leaving Albuquerque, I asked my beautiful companion, "Is anything happening around here this weekend that I want to be back for?" "LIFE is happening this weekend," was his excellent reply.
Today's weather forecast for the internal landscape: fair to partly biased, winds out of the distant past but calming, chance of showers of blessing in the midday. Two healing conversations have already graced me since morning. They offered perhaps different affirmations than I had hoped, but which I can surely use.
Earlier, on leaving Albuquerque, I asked my beautiful companion, "Is anything happening around here this weekend that I want to be back for?" "LIFE is happening this weekend," was his excellent reply.
Monday, September 7, 2009
pushing back
gratitude for quieter waters
after crushing waves
and a pair of kind responses
blowing in out of the blue
yesterday was a funk, for sure
maybe a passing squall, but
try telling that to any boat
just holding out in the eye of the storm
an empathetic friend wrote that it's hard
not to get to such a state when you're pushing
and life doesn't push you back
there's either too little (work, service, activity)
to fill the picture, or too much space to fill
what happens when
that existential push comes to no shove
is of course falling down
levelled by the force of my own free will
released but not quite liberated
from attachement, agenda, expectation
you know the usual suspects
but also not yet freed
from wish to join in the creation of more life
and what's a living soul to do
if not desire continually that?
after crushing waves
and a pair of kind responses
blowing in out of the blue
yesterday was a funk, for sure
maybe a passing squall, but
try telling that to any boat
just holding out in the eye of the storm
an empathetic friend wrote that it's hard
not to get to such a state when you're pushing
and life doesn't push you back
there's either too little (work, service, activity)
to fill the picture, or too much space to fill
what happens when
that existential push comes to no shove
is of course falling down
levelled by the force of my own free will
released but not quite liberated
from attachement, agenda, expectation
you know the usual suspects
but also not yet freed
from wish to join in the creation of more life
and what's a living soul to do
if not desire continually that?
Sunday, September 6, 2009
why
Come on, can't somebody help me out here? What's going on in this unreality? From where comes this sudden intensity? Why is life getting so much more challenging for the ones trying to be awake and alive and openhearted? And not, apparently, for the ones content or intent to stay complacent and eyes-closed? Why is there so much pain and struggle, and why do so few seem to feel it? And I need to know, for myself, why I am carrying so much of it. Not so much in proportion to the life of the world, surely. But far too much in proportion to my own life. Which, while unstable and inexplicable, is not threatening or harsh or unkind. Not at this point. And yet the pain comes back and back again - this week, both in body and in heartmind - in seeming disregard of how smoothly anything is flowing, around me. Am I responsible for all this pain? Did I create it somehow, through habit or lack of habit? Through intention or lack of intention? Am I channeling, possibly, some pain that is not mine? If so, where is it coming from, and what am I to do with it? This is surely too much to ask of just one person. If I knew of a place where I could go and join hearts with others who had this irrational, continuous experience of pain, and turn it to healing somehow, surely I would go...
Or maybe I wouldn't. There were two events this weekend that could be spoken of as healing. One directly so: local traditional healers offering to share their skills, for minimal donations. The other less direct but perhaps just as effective: a time of prayer and devotion to the spirit of what sustains, in the green growing life of the world. But I avoided both. Not for lack of interest, respect, or wish to connect. Because I'm so very tired. Tired of carrying this pain, heavier than I can walk upright with, into the presence of other people and asking them to understand. Or, asking myself to be present with them while they, and I, don't understand.
Or maybe I wouldn't. There were two events this weekend that could be spoken of as healing. One directly so: local traditional healers offering to share their skills, for minimal donations. The other less direct but perhaps just as effective: a time of prayer and devotion to the spirit of what sustains, in the green growing life of the world. But I avoided both. Not for lack of interest, respect, or wish to connect. Because I'm so very tired. Tired of carrying this pain, heavier than I can walk upright with, into the presence of other people and asking them to understand. Or, asking myself to be present with them while they, and I, don't understand.
Friday, September 4, 2009
caffeine
Here is what a friend said to me last night: "Caffeine is a psychotropic drug. And not because it causes you to hallucinate another reality. Because it causes you to hallucinate this reality."
Wow. He's got me thinking there, for sure. But not quite ready to give up coffee. Maybe soon, but not yet. Not because I want my drug, my crutch - I don't. It's a hope in getting free, to be eventually caffeine-free, and to live with no crutches. But until something seems real for more than 5 minutes - which happens very seldom, lately - I'm sticking with my familiar hallucination. Which at least allows me to pretend that I have the energy, the motivation, the reason, to engage another day of unreality.
Wow. He's got me thinking there, for sure. But not quite ready to give up coffee. Maybe soon, but not yet. Not because I want my drug, my crutch - I don't. It's a hope in getting free, to be eventually caffeine-free, and to live with no crutches. But until something seems real for more than 5 minutes - which happens very seldom, lately - I'm sticking with my familiar hallucination. Which at least allows me to pretend that I have the energy, the motivation, the reason, to engage another day of unreality.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Mother Earth News rocks!
This comes from the January/February issue of 1977. It cheered my day just to know that somebody out there (Minnesota, in this case) carried this kind of collaborative spirit. This reminds me of something out of Ecotopia. Hope there are still people thinking like this. Or maybe more people that will start remembering to think like this.
****
"So here's my situation: I'm a commercial forager (that is, I'm trying to become one) who has a fantastic idea for processing and marketing a complete line of wild goodies. I know the articles will sell...I'm also convinced that careful planning will ensure repeated crops in the wild year after year.
Problem is, I need bodies to help me get this business endeavor off the ground. I'll throw in my $60,000 maple sugaring facility (which might be partially converted over to the other operation) if someone else will help out with technological know-how -- and maybe a little cash -- where I lack these attributes.
An enterprise like this might give a valuable boost to our nation's diminishing food supply."
****
****
"So here's my situation: I'm a commercial forager (that is, I'm trying to become one) who has a fantastic idea for processing and marketing a complete line of wild goodies. I know the articles will sell...I'm also convinced that careful planning will ensure repeated crops in the wild year after year.
Problem is, I need bodies to help me get this business endeavor off the ground. I'll throw in my $60,000 maple sugaring facility (which might be partially converted over to the other operation) if someone else will help out with technological know-how -- and maybe a little cash -- where I lack these attributes.
An enterprise like this might give a valuable boost to our nation's diminishing food supply."
****
free/fall gardening
The craziest thing I did this week: I dug up my entire garden, loaded it in the truck, and took it away from my old house. Along with all the other so-called earthly possessions. I was just too heavy-hearted watching it die along with my former housemates' vegetables, which were already past their prime. Mine were planted late, and still wanted to thrive. I got out two bags of topsoil, and put it all into some big plastic pots: two tomato plants (just ripening now), two fennel, two Thai basil, two stunted green chiles that probably won't produce anything but deserve a chance. One gorgeous chard, the only one I was able to grow from seed. And two surprising marigold plants, more than a foot tall, which came from seeds picked up at the Dia de los Muertos parade two years ago (the first occasion on which I saw la Danza Azteca). Fittingly, all of these plants have now found a welcome home at the place where two of the dancers live. Where I can visit them, and also share whatever they produce. Except for one marigold which went to the friend who gave me three of the best tomatoes in history, from his own acequia-watered garden. Hopefully there will be enough flowers, by November, to throw at the feet of the next procession. I'm starting more now from their seeds, just in case.
It's still a shock, being un-housed. It wasn't supposed to happen again so soon. And I really didn't want to uproot my summer growth - those struggling plants, that fragile sense of place and belonging no less. Both of them far too short on roots and nurture. But that's how it worked out. I won't say "homeless", because I've got places to stay. And because "home" is a word I treat with respect, already. But there's still a little vertigo left. Still a sense that more freefall could happen at any minute.
And as if transplanting in late August wasn't off-timing enough, I'm starting a fall garden, at the place where I've been working. Which sits at 6,300 feet, and has a short growing season anyway. But it's the next item on the work list, so I'm reading up on what grows on short notice. Online research found some 30-day greens and a 40-day broccoli, which I can get in Santa Fe. A file of old articles from Mother Earth News and xeroxes from ancient gardening books has offered tips on making the most of light, soil and warmth on shrinking days. I've just built two "cloches" - small, moveable greenhouses - covered with clear plastic and, for the moment, black landscaping fabric. Hopefully they'll channel sun's heat into the newly prepared earth, while I gather up some seeds and starts. Hopefully I can recognize all of these elements - the available wisdom, the mutable strength of life itself, the warmth of even temporary shelter - in my own not-quite fall.
It's still a shock, being un-housed. It wasn't supposed to happen again so soon. And I really didn't want to uproot my summer growth - those struggling plants, that fragile sense of place and belonging no less. Both of them far too short on roots and nurture. But that's how it worked out. I won't say "homeless", because I've got places to stay. And because "home" is a word I treat with respect, already. But there's still a little vertigo left. Still a sense that more freefall could happen at any minute.
And as if transplanting in late August wasn't off-timing enough, I'm starting a fall garden, at the place where I've been working. Which sits at 6,300 feet, and has a short growing season anyway. But it's the next item on the work list, so I'm reading up on what grows on short notice. Online research found some 30-day greens and a 40-day broccoli, which I can get in Santa Fe. A file of old articles from Mother Earth News and xeroxes from ancient gardening books has offered tips on making the most of light, soil and warmth on shrinking days. I've just built two "cloches" - small, moveable greenhouses - covered with clear plastic and, for the moment, black landscaping fabric. Hopefully they'll channel sun's heat into the newly prepared earth, while I gather up some seeds and starts. Hopefully I can recognize all of these elements - the available wisdom, the mutable strength of life itself, the warmth of even temporary shelter - in my own not-quite fall.
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