Catching Up

Well hello.

A friend of mine invited me to blog once again. I am still unable to upload photos on this particular public computer, but perhaps one of these days I will luck out and have access to computer #2. Anyway, I find the idea of blogging again amenable, and since I still have access to the old blog page, here goes!

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My life has for some time been a pendulum swinging between the longing for freedom, travel, experience, authentic contribution, etc., and a desperate need for security, self-care, stability, money. As an increasingly free-spirit, I have prioritized the former in recent years. More than once, I have arrived at the point of completely empty bank accounts, pockets and energy reserves.

Three years ago, after a brief period of homelessness and van-living, I made a thousand-mile return to New Mexico on the grace of discounted tires. I had been given indication I would be rehired at the store, by way of a phone call made to my former boss from a truckstop along the way! I arrived with less than five dollars and less than a gallon in the tank. I realized through the experience that I was not cut out for that level of stress in how I organized my life, especially if I didn't have a clear sense of what purpose it was serving. A vague sense of being true to an imagined new paradigm was not enough to outweigh hunger, cold, and an unwelcome dependency on external factors.

Then two years ago, after working steadily for another year, I took a three-month leave of absence to travel to Nicaragua. I visited seven farms and worked on four, but I also partied some. I met some great people, had some adventures, and got shredded by insect bites. Two months were great, but the third was filled with illness, dwindling cash, and stress. I made a couple of foolish decisions, and a few good ones too, much of the time on the fly. I learned a lot.

I arrived back to New Mexico, once again with less than five dollars in reserves. But this time, I had a job waiting for me. This provided tremendous security while I'd pushed the envelope of how much adventure I could manage. I began to wonder if it might be possible to work part of the year and live cheaply the rest of the year. It seemed a doable and compelling vision, to get beyond wage slavery and vapid societal norms. I had tasted a profound sense of personal sovereignty that was becoming so hard to find in the states. And I had done so without sacificing my essential security.

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Another few months of work was more than my spirit could sustain. I tried to find some meaning in it by self-medicating. But it only exacerbated my fatigue and misfittedness. My favorite coworkers began to leave, injuries were increasing, and it was time to leave. Ganja would again prove to subvert any focus on generating a clear plan as to what was next. I'd booked a return to Nicaragua, but felt no inspiration for going. I changed plans and traveled to California, feeling directionless, until I headed up to stay with my folks.

My mom, unbeknownst to me, had been seriously ill. I was glad to take over a month to spend some overdue quality time with her and the family. Mom was on the mend, and it was a great visit. Yet, grey and shrunken, I looked as old and burned out as I felt. I managed to stay away from the ganja and began to focus. After 25 years in New Mexico, I was stale and stuck. Dissipations I had used to refresh my attitude had now become their own negative rut. Indeed, my dissipated life had become injurious to myself and others, including people I cared about. It was by waking up to this pain that I realized I needed to do something different.

As with most things, it was not clear what I needed to do. There was no perfect or easy road forward. I had an offer of a couple months stay in New Mexico, perfect for clearing out stuff and saying goodbye. I had already been liberated from friends, job, car and computer. Uprooting would not be a problem. I wanted to be around some model of a value-centered life. So I volunteered on a midwestern farm belonging to a couple of acquaintances, who were also very involved with social activism. I predicted it would be difficult physically and emotionally, and it surpassed my expectations in both regards.

After all my ups and downs, it seemed fair that I would have to earn my stripes as a respectable commnity member. I was at least being given a chance, for which I felt very grateful.

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Eleven months of clean and celibate living has provided for much growth.

Learning to conform to small-town, Christian community standards took some doing. Yet, it was the sheer magnitude of the moment-to-moment pain and exhaustion that was wholly consuming. I was seriously out of shape. Self-esteem suffered, injuries happened, and I did my best to stay positive. Prayer helped-- the desperate kind that somehow finds its mark. I even got to know someone named Jesus again. Slowly, my resilience grew from being able to get through a minute or two without suffering, to getting through an hour or two, to the enjoyment of getting through an entire day. Over the seven months, there may have even been a week or two in which all of the days were "good" ones.

My hosts were very patient and generous. I began to make a couple good friends in the community, and playing a little music. I began enjoying the ten-mile bike ride to-and-from town. I enjoyed how I was actualizing a good life without a car. I was living on an organic farm, a lifestyle with integrity. I was getting bigger, weighing up to 170. I was regaining some humility. Perhaps best of all, somehow I was not harming anyone. As the weeks passed, I noticed in these developments a new trend in my life.

I had to admit to myself that getting high the previous couple years had grown to a semi-regular pursuit. While it had led to some amazing, or at least pleasurable, experiences, I'd become aware of an inner sense that I was somehow "losing ground." It had left me increasingly less fit, less patient and loving, more erratic, more confused, and overall less resilient. This was of course hard to admit, as the experience of being high itself had the opposite effect, for as long as it lasted-- more energy, openness, clarity, etc. This in short is the conundrum of dependency. The beauty of the ganja experience does not exempt it from these effects. In fact, for some of us at least, it magnifies one's emotional dependency and psychological rationalization.

Breaking such a pattern was not easy. I was giving practice to the idea of deferred gratification. The new trend that was slowly dawning on me was that I was now gaining ground. As difficult as it was, I was building some internal resilience: some synaptic fitness, some new hormonal flow, a deeper breath. Even as new challenges arose-- differences in communication styles, digestive illness-- I was heading in a positive direction.

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What got me through the bulk of the summer was commitment. I knew it was a gift of an opportunity I had been given by my hosts. So I was "all in" to make this experience work, no matter what it would take.

My work was not generally stellar on the farm, as sluggishness continued to return. I didn't learn near as much as I could have, as it was all I could do most days to get some weeding or mulching done. Because I could beg off work in the evening after a long day, I often missed out on plantings, best done during those hours, etc. But I was honest and respectful. I gave them my best, both spiritually and physically. It wasn't pretty, but I got through. And it began building on itself.

The landscaping work went even better. For whatever reason, the work flow there, while faster and more vigorous, worked out well. I am actually psyched to do it again this year. It is my plan to landscape three or four months, which comprises the bulk of the company's work season, as soon as the weather breaks here. It is my hope that this will afford me enough cash for the rest of the year's needs.

This assumes that at least part of the rest of the year I will be doing some sort of service work in exchange for room and board, and possibly a small stipend. I like this plan a lot, because it seems very sustainable over the long term. And it fulfills a lot of needs.

This more-or-less catches us up, at least to this past fall's adventures which I hope to cover some time soon. I hope to give some voice to my immersion in social justice activism. It has provided immense grist for the mill of my many questions. What is worth doing in this life? What is the nature of reality? Does spirituality offer answers? What's the use of all this conspiracy stuff I've been into? What's the plan for balancing various needs?

Until then, thanks for the space to write!

summer photos

processing the year's garlic harvest

drying garlic

front yard

a night off to watch the ponies

farm in full produciton

my friend Rich came to talk about Middle East peacemaking

my side job is landscaping lake houses

radishes

farmer Cliff declaring the market open

another view across the middle garden

sometimes weekly farm supper takes place in the barn

all ready for customers at the farmer's market

Summer at Joyfield

Joyfield's farmer's market table closeup

 Arlene putting the final touches on the display 

 weekly farm supper on the farm, this week in the big barn

preparing for battle with hordes of morning mosquitos



Wow, what a ride it has been... 3 1/2 months here already at Joyfield Farm! 16-hour workdays are the norm for my hosts. After a month of trying to keep up, overcoming exhaustion and various stresses and strains, I have found a better balance working 8-hour "half-days." I'll be here for another month, before moving on to... who knows?

Next month, I'll be heading south on a delegation with Christian Peacemaker Teams to visit a Depleted Uranium production plant. It is my foray into the nonviolent social activism I have been dancing around for years. I am nervous about it, but it is a big part of what I came out here to explore. My host having been involved with CPT for many years, including long term stints in Iraq and Palestine, I figured there might be some mentorship I could receive here, along with the farming.

I figure I'll either like it more than I expect, and it will set a course for my near-future, or else I will be repelled by the experience into other paths of service. But at 50, it felt like time to focus in on some of the things I want to have done in this life, before I am too old to do them. And amidst the onslaught of overwhelming imperialist militarism and mind-control, I felt something active needed to be done, to at least rekindle some hope of the Heaven-on-Earth I know is possible.

 looking out over some of the West Garden



long row of Romaine lettuce 

 Arlene gathering strawberries, an hours-long task

 strawberries began the parade of abundant fruits ripening this month

broccoli head

Farming has been the bulk of the exploration in generating this vision, helping out with a 2 1/2 acre organic farm, which is a vast undertaking when being done with only hand tools and muscle power. I have moved through a series of plateaus to get into working shape, so that in recent weeks, I have no lulls during the long 6-day workweeks. Yes, even if I am not going sun up (6 am) to sundown (10 pm) every day like my hosts, they are still long weeks!

When I began working here, I found I was exhausted and demoralized by about 10 am every day. My prayer practices have gotten stronger, as it would take focused attention on each moment to get through the suffering of each day. Then I found I was able to more-or-less get through a whole day without suffering, and then the days beagn to get more consistent. In the last weeks, I have even gotten to a point where a couple of long days of farming have become the meditation I remembered they could be. Suffering has been replaced by a zen-style just-being with the weeds as I am pulling them for hours, even enjoying the capacity to sweat in the hot humid sunshine.

It has been a rainy year here, with a good couple-inch soaking almost every week. So crops are thriving... and so are weeds, bugs, birds and various varmints on the farm! Being next to a restored wetland probably promotes the local mosquito population, which became nearly unbearable at times this week. My friend in the yurt next door even got out a mosquito hat & netting this week, which I think was a wise move. I was glad yesterday for a little breeze which returned conditions to greater comfort. 

I have enjoyed playing music with the Yurtfolk, a homeschooling family who also reside on the farm. We finally cashed in the meals we earned gigging at the local coffeeshop, along with other gigs we've had--an ordination, a Sunday service, accompanying a Suzuki concert, and folk music. I also played viola solo at a recent communion service at the local church, an double-stop-filled instrumental arrangement of Attics of My Life (Garcia/Hunter, 1970). Afterwards, I was enthusiastically greeted with a firm handshake, by Olden Mitchell, the oldest member of our congregation. At 102, his appreciation left me feeling full of wonder to have made an esthetic connection across the generations and cultures that contributed to that moment happening!

My hosts have been fabulous, generous and understanding. They are probably the hardest working people I have ever met. It has taken some adjustment to get used to their rhythm of things--the only down time they take aside from a strictly-observed Sabbath is during mealtimes. Fortunately, there are many opportunities for sharing food, with fellowship groups and farm suppers and other potlucks nearly every night of the week.

prepping for farmer's market

lots of radishes to prep



radishes

view across sweet potatoes and larkspur in Middle Garden

toward Silo and West Gardens

I have enjoyed getting away from some lazy habits, and seeing how fit I can become. There is satisfaction in finding one's capacity for what I call contractility, the ability to contract the muscles effectively. In addition to the farming, I have been working one day a week with a local landscaper, which provides a kind of cross-training, involving a bit more aerobic movement. I weighed in at 172 last week, which is at least ten pounds more than my typical weight in recent years. At 50, it is good to know I can still put on some muscle mass.

I have also found an interesting psychological fitness evolving. My motivational circuits are much more consistent now than they have been in a few years. Rather than pursuing the stimulation common to our modern lifestyles--which then inevitably fades, leaving one disspated and seeking further stimulation--I have been allowed a very simple life here--one of prayer, work, sleep, eating and fellowship. This more contracted state has allowed my dreamlife to become richer. It has allowed for enjoyment of simple indulgences like listening to baseball on the radio. Most of all, it has also allowed a consistent gaining, rather than a chasing, of synaptic well-being.

So now I am seeking what is next on my journey. My agreement with my current hosts is to August, at  which point I feel we are both ready for a change. I will visit another farm today, specializing in natural meat production, and have begun talking to another organic vegetable farm nearby. There are a couple of service organizations I am looking into, with a wide variety of possible placements. With the quality of life is excellent, and low cost of living, I am also looking at how I might settle in here, and what I mght do off-season. Between the progressive,  service-oriented Church of the Brethren here, local musicians and fellow farmers, old friends and new, I have found many connections here, for which I am very grateful. 

I hope y'all enjoyed this update! See ya in the fields-- 

who told you

who told you
that you could not heal a lifetime of woe in this very moment

that it was better to play small
and compromise your dreams for a booby prize

who was it that advised you
to never be bold

that your righteous love would be punished
and where has it gotten you

who said
you were to age to a creaky halt

never to run your marathon
or manifest your innermost hope of love

who thought to say
it would not be you to defeat the fascists

without lifting a single armament
yet with one flap of a butterfly's wings

who told you to be quiet
that behaving and going along with the lies

would be of any use
or could buy you even one more moment

did you think
you were too old to start anew

growing food for a living
or on some other clean and moral calling

would you doubt that a boy
could live without food

if he was fierce enough to set his mind to it
and then simply run for his life

wasn't it Jesus who said
while preparing to depart

that with faith
you could do even greater things than these

who said it was
better to keep quiet

than to look like a fool
accidently declaring your most shameful secret

who was it
advising you that you might be better off

compounding a weak-willed lie
with a lifetime of covering up

why then do you not speak out
against the violence of a government

killing children around the world
for a greasy dollar bill

don't you realize
the sanctity of your autonomy

cannot be stolen even at gunpoint
surrounded by a death camp's barbed wire

then why would you doubt
the miracles that are in store

for your very life
and this magical Earth

and when will you speak out
and claim what is yours

by the very nature of your existence
which is rooted in the Creator's love

for didn't Jesus also say
if you bring forth

that which is within you
it will save you

who told you otherwise...
all I can tell you here

is that it certainly
wasn't me