Unsustainable Addictions

A slice out of my daily journal… and a good reminder.

This morning we had a power outage. I was reading in bed in the delicious quiet of pre-dawn when darkness pitched in that blinding way when a light goes out in full darkness. Pin that metaphor. At first I thought the bedside lightbulb might have failed. Alas, no, for that delicious ‘n’ nourishing morning quiet was no more. It was shattered in the merciless hum of our collective fossil fuel addiction.

Apparently, most everyone around me and their neighbors are on some kind of vital life support that requires uninterrupted electric flow through their abodes lest they die of their thoughtless and greedy addiction to privilege.

Yeah. That’s how I feel.

All these oil and gas powered generators around me kick on the instant - the fucking instant - that the power goes out. Heck, they kick on the instant there's a flicker of a power surge. And it’s loud. I can hear it through the walls and closed windows of our little hut. It’s beyond maddening.

I remember a time, not all that long ago, when we’d loose power - as they say - and I could step outdoors to be with the quietest whispers and the very breath of Nature. I'd pause in the wonder of it all to witness the sacred theatre of trees swaying in a breeze, grass dancing, birdsong, rain on the air, and the infinite other expressions of Gaia weaving stories and harmonizing voices in a way that only Nature can convey. It’s magick. Pure, beloved magick and Medicine from the very heart of Gaia. Now, that is no more. And it is a loss that I've been mourning for years. A loss I can't quite get past.

And why should I?

This facet of our fossil fuel addiction (and it’s related addiction to privilege) rapes and ruins what used to be a welcomed and beloved quiet stillness ‘n’ beauty of the power outage. Now, the beloved song and poetry of Nature is no more. It's been replaced by a rage-filled grief born of these ugly and unsustainable addictions.

That is all.

For now.

🕊

once upon a time

It’s the first Monday in January and I’m still waiting for winter. Well, winter’s here, yet I’m waiting for winter snow. We’ve had flurries and dustings and minor accumulations. Nothing lasting. Since the solstice, we’ve had some bitter cold. We’ve had some biting winds. What we’re missing is that blanket of snow that covers and protects life as I know it. Well… life as I knew it. Once upon a time.

Today will be cold again, with the winds taking a break before picking up again tomorrow. And there’s no snow in the 10-day forecast.

I sit here in the pre-dawn darkness, sending prayer, journaling, cursing our collective fossil fuel addiction, and so many conventions that starve and deplete Gaia, and all her kin. And, lest it be missed, that includes us two-leggeds. I sit here in the pre-dawn darkness recalling a 30 year old memory of the first time I saw robins in February, and my expression at that time, “this can’t be good.” We’ve had winter robins ever since. It wasn’t always like that. Once upon a time.

Today, not for the first time, I’ll be sending protective prayers to the garlic, shallots, and all the perennials, and the winter seeds. I’ll offer my intentions and actions to my beloved Gaia, and all her kin, for passive protection, sure, and also that we may revolt against the behaviors and actions that starve and deplete her, and all her kin.

I invite you to consider your behaviors and actions. I invite you to consider those that nourish and sustain life, and those that deplete and starve life. Those that add value, and those that add waste. I invite you to consider how you might shift your conduct so that it may be more restorative, less wasteful, more harmonic, less compliant to the ill willed, indoctrinated conventions of these times in which we live.

For decades, I’ve been shifting my ways. It feels so lonely. And here in the dark of early morning, my ancestors whisper (especially my rooted kin) that it wasn’t always like this. It wasn’t always lonely. And it doesn’t have to be. 

May this invitation inspire you into action… today, and every day, one gesture at a time, one choice at a time, small magick and large, alone and with as much community as you can inspire, in reciprocity with and for Gaia, and all her kin. For the collective future of all life. May this invitation inspire a new and renewed once upon a time.

🕊️

Hominy Harmony

 

Frolic is my current Moonshine focus, and given this world we share, it’s a mighty challenge. Yet, there it is. So tenacious me accepts it.

Yesterday I experienced an alignment of motivation, will, physical energy and opportunity, so I leveraged that uncanny blessing by frolicking with some hominy I’ve been meaning to can since the cold months; amazing, small batch, hardwood ash washed hominy from Dave Smoke-McCluskey. In the present tense, this is a practical activity of kitchen witchery, yet one that will, in a future tense, yield opportunity for frolic. How, you ask? Well, at some point in the future I’ll be able to pop open a can of ready-to-eat, heat-n-serve hominy, to add to soups, stews, salads, casseroles, pazole, and more - for us, and for others. But my point is, cooking hominy is a long, slow, simmer process, like cooking dried beans. So the magick - canned magick - is held in the freed-up time ‘n’ space in that future tense. Make sense?

I frolic in the present with my kitchen witchery. I’ll frolic in the future with the promise of freed-up time. And in these actions I acknowledge the ancestors with an honor of frolic in the food I create in the kitchen; food I know and understand, food that is unadulterated by a system that prefers to poison life for profit. And yes, I see and acknowledge the privilege in my capacity to frolic in this way, and I offer the gesture in prayer to Nona Gaia and all her kin… that we may all live and act in honorable, sustainable, healthful, and loving ways that may nourish all life - past present, future, and then some. And it's in this prayer that so much of the challenge resides; the challenge to frolic.

Challenge, or folic, or both, and more... we have twelve pints of Dave Smoke-McCluskey’s Becky Blanca Hominy, and four pints of Fat Red Hominy ready to go. Canned blessings, y'all. *nods*

Today it looks like the alignment is holding, so I’ll do the same with some cannellini beans that I likewise intended to can months ago. So today shall be filled with more honor ‘n’ frolic to all the times and beings that support us all - past, present, future, and then some.

🕊Justice.

too few

 

the world is ablaze
my beloved gaia mourns 
too few seem to care

Justice. 🕊

Lughnasadh Blessings

 

August kicks off - in my realm - with sunshine, good air quality, unusual tempered temperatures, and a good dose of righteous indignation. And being a backyard farmer with some Irish in me, this holy time of Lughnasadh holds a special place in my life and in my heart. 

Of course, any event that honors the earth, our divine Mother, my beloved Nona Gaia, her abundance 'n' generosity, is an event that I'll embrace with a madness. Such earth-centered holy days act to ground - and ground again 'n' again - my dedication to nurturing the living rituals that are part of my daily living. Rituals that nourish and sustain life. All life. Thus, that righteous indignation (but that's yet another rant for yet another day, gods willing ::knock wood::). 

Righteous indignation aside, today I'll be harvesting green beans, zucchini, kale, collards, beets, maybe another cabbage, french fingerlings, peppers, green onions, the first couple of ripe tomatoes, and possibly a few carrots... parsley, dill, cilantro, summer savory, Mexican mint, calendula, mullein, monarda, yarrow, other botanicals, and - yep - sweet, sweet basil. 

Not to mention echinacea, wild carrot, zinneas, and other blossoms to add color 'n' verve to our day, and days. 

What color 'n' verve are you harvesting this holy day, this season, this life that nourish and sustain? What prayers do you live? 

What prayers do you live?

Peace. 🕊

The Lusty Month of #NoMowMay

 

The lusty month of #NoMowMay welcomes you. 

Historically, the holy days of May Day/Beltaine have been highly social for me. They involved group camping, lots of hugs, food and beverage sharing, drumming, dancing, fire, joy, passion, and - for some - ceremony 'n' stories of meaning 'n' value. While I've not engaged that verve for a while now, I miss facets of those days, and at this time/in this season I am mightily grateful for my solitary nature as COVID cases are on the rise again, not "just" in far-off places, or even within my own region 'r state, but right in my own little town. And yet I see folx "returning to normal" (an opportunity lost), gathering in sizable groups in spaces open 'n' oh-so-foolishly closed, so many unmasked, unprotected 'n' unprotecting, with the concept of distancing clearly an abandoned practice for many. I see so much selfishness. I see too little communal guardianship. I see memories that shall - for now - stay rooted as memories of Medicine. Past, present and future. 

That said, I am grateful for my little patch earthly paradise, where - during the holy days of May Day - I shall gladly commune with the compassionate and intelligent beings of Nature. I shall hug the trees, embrace all my rooted kin, share nourishment 'n' sustenance with them, with the mundane (of the earth), as well as with the elemental beings that choose to join us. I shall drum, dance, express joy, and engage ceremony 'n' stories of meaning 'n' value with Nona Gaia, all her kin, with the chickens and my spouse. And I will count my blessings, with care, and cast them to the directions to go where they are most needed. And as the these days twixt spring 'n' summer return to earthly days (also holy), I will focus on tangible ways that I might share my blessings in and with my community as the moon waxes and the wheel of the year continues its sacred pirouette. 

I pray that you might join me. Not for yourself, but for others. And - while I have your attention - join so many around the globe in #NoMowMay. And if you feel you must mow, consider a mechanical mower, and/or a scythe - we use both. Consider the earth and all her kin. This month and forever onward. Not for you. For our holistic 'n' collective future. For our beloved Nona Gaia. In the name of all that is sacred 'n' holy, may we kick the fossil fuel addiction. ::nods::

Peace. 🕊

Welcome September

Even as aspects of The Garden are past 'n' waning, there's still plenty to tend 'n' harvest well into autumn. And autumn's not here yet. And I am grateful for these final days of summer.

August flitted, I blinked, and linear time has delivered September. Given this dashing verve, meshed with some solitary immersion and inner work, I've found myself in a place to stay for a while. That may sound cryptic, but it's not. It's simple, though not without nuance, and it's the nuance that's gnawing at me. And so it is that some plans have shifted so that I may do the work I'm called to do, and face the challenges I'm called to face.

I'll be staying in The Garden for a while; the one you see, and the one I know. This fits with this transitional month in ordinary and extraordinary ways. I feel a tug - a tug for all of us - to nurture the Gardens, the communities and the wisdom that reside right in our own backyards. We are being called to honor the places where our roots sink, and as we do, we will re-cultivate honor for the earth, the soil, the water, the air, the plants, all life - everywhere - with our behaviors, choices and actions. Actions that may nourish and sustain life, near and far, rather than starve and deplete it. 

This is the Medicine we are called to make manifest.

I pray we are all up to the challenge.

Peace. 🕊

A Proclamation

Every day I do my best to honor, serve, nurture, protect and defend my blessed Nona Gaia.

Peace.

Earth Day Honor

Every day is Earth Day for me, tree-hugging, weed-nibbling, earth-worshiping, Gaia-loving wench that I am! Even so, today I raised my own earth-consciousness and made an effort or two to help others do the same. The day was a damp one, so to honor it I leveraged the wisdom of springtime Nature and transplanted several outdoor seedlings and other plants without running any water. A small gesture, to be sure, and one that I would have done on auto-pilot, yet today it was a gesture heightened with awareness that honored the earth and my place in it.

It was another good soup day, so I made an Italian Wedding soup. Wedding soup seemed fitting to renew my vows to Gaia, on this, a day we collectively honor her. The Boy worked outdoors all day, so this soup warmed us both, body and soul.

To extend this Earth Day honor, this Thursday's In the Garden show we welcome Bill Duesing to discuss aspects of "The Sustainable Garden." Bill is, among other things, the Executive Director of the Connecticut Chapter of the Northeast Organic Farming Association.

Tax Free Hopes & Dreams

The day began with another one-gallon batch of ale. This time, a sarsaparilla blend that I suspect already I'll be repeating. I needed to tag my brews, so in honor of tax day and the good that might brew from such a convoluted government effort, I cut up the "first class" envelope in which the CPA returned the bureaucratic remnants that must be retained for seven years. First class brew labels and a nice little upcycling effort. In any event, there are three gallons of cranberry wine, three separate gallons of various ales and a five gallon batch of a porter variation all bubbling away, effortlessly, carefree, first class and tax free.

I strung the prayer flags that I made yesterday and hung them on the deck wall in the bright sunshine.

Then . . . I created a tribute to a favored saying.

A saying I would love to hear make a comeback.

Then, the day came full circle, so to speak, in more ways than might be immediately obvious. 2006, a fine year for rhubarb. Nothing taxing about that!

The evening topped off with a sweet little bat that somehow got in the house. We gently captured it in a towel and with equal gentleness and a prayer set it free in the cool night air of spring's hopes and dreams.

Ashe.