December 2012 and Consciousness (or, what's the matter with matter?)

Well hello Blog.  It's been a while.

I had to immerse myself in the hermit-style life for some time, and now I am coming back to embracing technology as well as nature--understanding how each has a role in developing our consciousness.

Consciousness...that seems to be the key word recently, what with the coming "golden age" of consciousness that is being precipitated by our anticipation of this date, 12-21-2012.  So what is this all about?

I've been reading, watching, and listening to books, documentaries, and podcasts about vibrations, quantum physics, new age spirituality, climate change, the Mayan Calendar, shamanism, dreams, womyn's moon time, politics, astrology, alien visitation...

and why not?  this is the time to do it!

I've heard it being said that right now we're in the process of taking our "final exams," which I'm interpreting to mean: evaluating what does not serve us anymore (personally, as a species, and as our planet) and "de-cluttering" our minds and lives of these "useless" thoughts, emotions, and actions.  Yeah, it's easy to say and hard to do--but not that hard, considering that once we start on this "job," the universe is actually going to conspire to help us learn the lessons we need in the ways we need to learn them...because here's the thing:

THE EARTH WANTS TO HEAL ITSELF (herself).

Yes, more and more we are becoming aware (again) that we are part of the earth.

The matter with matter is that we have been perceiving reality through a dualistic, materialistic, separatist lens for a while (really, not that long in terms of the evolution of life), and have been "taught" or forced to learn this perception under traumatic circumstances which make it difficult for us to break away from thinking that this is "the way things are": Comparing ourselves to others, thinking we're separate, thinking that all resources are "non-living" stuff that we can use to consume without thought about their origin.  To name a few examples.

Oh, and I should mention too that a side-effect of this way of thinking is  feeling lonely, depressed, and anxious.  We're missing a connection.

The matter with matter is that it is conscious.  Even without a "brain."  In quantum physics, it is understood that there is what's known as "non-local consciousness."  People living on this planet have understood this for millennia (if not longer) through accessing higher states of consciousness with meditation, ecstatic dance, ritual, yoga, "sublime" moments, and medicinal plants and mushrooms.  Now, many of these methodologies are taboo and have been seriously repressed (I'm looking to Tibet as an example).  We understand this intuitively, that we are all inter-connected, even (I would say especially) with the other living beings and "non-living" beings in this universe.  As some would say, "It's in our DNA!"  

It is also known in quantum physics that sub atomic particles behave in different ways, depending on the "observer."  They can change from particles to waves, and quarks can "blow the mind" even more with the crazy things that they're capable of.  So, the "building blocks" of matter are actually constantly changing, depending on how they're observed, and in the quantum realm there are infinite possibilities.

So now imagine that you have a way of thinking that emphasizes oneness, intuition, calm, play, spontaneity, and infinite possibilities.  

..."someone call the doctor, or the police!"

But really, this is how our indigenous ancestors perceived the world--call it animism, call it paganism, whatever you will...

This is just a little bit of what I've learned.  Now, what do I think?  That's the only question I'm truly capable of answering (in this state of consciousness, at least...)?

Well, I've been observing in myself a healing process.  I've been re-learning to acknowledge and honor the right side of my brain, my intuition, my femininity, my spontaneity, my creativity.  Mostly, I've been learning how to relax more into each moment.  How to receive instead of giving all the time.  Realizing that my body is conscious, not just my brain.  The kind of connection I have been experiencing with nature is not something I can express in words.  

The struggle is revealing itself to be the reunion of this newly emergent self with my logical, planning, productive, rational self...in other words, the feminine with the masculine.

We really are at a crucial turning point--we're about to begin a new cycle, according to the Mayans, the Greeks, the Vedas, the Hopi, the Tibetans...many cultures and civilizations have marked this time.  Can we rebalance our own energies so that we can, in turn, rebalance our planet--living in deep connection to nature and also honoring technological advances that support a growing population?  We already have the technology to live this way, we just need to make the choices.

THE EARTH WANTS TO HEAL ITSELF.

If you set an intention based in an egoistic consciousness, it may come into manifestation, but probably not.  However, if your intention is in alignment with quantum consciousness, the intentions will more likely occur.  We can already see this in the internet, a "material" metaphor for what we are already capable of doing with our own consciousness.  So, why not intend to live more in balance with the earth?  We could become the earth's immune system instead of a parasitic disease.

If you're still reading this, THANK YOU.  Thanks for participating in one more random rant from yours truly; I'm just trying to pass my exams. ;)

I heard on an astrologist's podcast that there is nothing really that "astronomically" astounding happening on 12-21-2012.  Nothing too much.  But the fact that we have placed so much emphasis on the date means that we are already creating what we want to happen--so if we intend for disaster, it will happen.  If we intend for new beginnings...well then, I'll see you on the other side!

   

Here's to the state of Mississippi.

A lot has happened since I last wrote here...

Sufficing to say, for the moment, I'm living and working at an environmental education center called Crow's Neck (www.crowsneck.org) in Tishomingo county, Mississippi. For those who care about geography, Tishomingo is in the northeast corner of the state, right next to Alabama and Tennessee.

Getting here was an adventure--we (myself and my partner in crime, Russell) packed up my pickup, newly furnished with a camper shell and a carpeted bed, and headed towards the southeast. We made stops at the Salton Sea in California (a surreal place), visited my grandma and aunt in Glendale, AZ (so enjoyable to visit them!), then went up to Flagstaff for a bit, where we happened to pick up some hitchhikers (5 smelly people in a truck cab with 3 dogs makes for an interesting situation and conversation), camped in Blue Lake State Park New Mexico, brunched and wandered in Albuquerque, spent about a week and a half in Spearman TX, a small town in the high plains of the panhandle right near Oklahoma, moseyed down to Austin for a few days (my new favorite US city) and visited friends, toured around San Antonio (I learned part of why Texans consider themselves their own country after visiting the Alamo), ate pupusas in Houston with Joel, Cristina's son, rambled around the French Quarter in New Orleans (I played craps unsuccessfully and had my first alligator po' boy), camped at a lake near Meridian MS (got a taste of southern RV park hospitality--it tastes like eggs on biscuits with coffee), visited friends in Huntsville Alabama (and saw a band where the guitarist wore overalls and made his guitars from cigar boxes), and finally made it over to Tishomingo 21 days, 50 hours of driving, countless cups of mate, 8 states, 2 time zones, and 1 bag of beef jerky later.

Whew!

Coming to "the South" has been wonderful. I truly believe that I never knew what live music was until I traveled through and east of Texas. It's everywhere, every day, and of every kind. One thing nearly all of the songs have in common though is place. They're all deeply rooted in their sense of place, of history. And the talent---oh my lord. In New Orleans, we stumbled across a place that had about 20 young musicians, all incredible, take the stage to solo for the duration of a tune that lasted about 45 minutes. Everyone rotating in and out, except for the bass and drummer, who kept it all going. In Austin, we went to "hippie church", eating Mexican food and drinking in gospel music for brunch. In Nashville, a woman called "Mississippi Minnie" crooned some delta tunes while alternating between spoons and a washboard tie.

Here at Crow's Neck, we're doing our duty as naturalists doing environmental education at a place that was created as part of a negotiation to quell environmentalists. It's situated on Bay Springs "Lake", a man made body of water that forms part of the Tennessee-Tombigbee Waterway. The "Tenn-Tom", as it's affectionately known, was the largest engineering project undertaken (even larger than the Panama Canal), by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers.

In the late 70s, it was decided that since the Mississippi River was getting crowded with barges for the transportation of goods, and that it was difficult for certain goods to get there, they would dig a canal to connect the Tennessee and Tombigbee rivers, with a series of locks and dams along the way. In a few years, after "stimulating" this region's economy with jobs and buying people's land from them, deforesting thousands of acres, and displacing tons of soil, the Tenn-Tom was opened up and water trickled uncertainly down paths it had never cut through before. Fish and animals that had formerly only known the Tennessee were to meet foreign friends downstream. And Bay Springs Lake was formed, as a recreational area.

We got the unique chance to visit the lock and dam (unique because after 9-11, all dams have been closed to tourists), which is incredible. It's pretty quiet, though, with only a few ships coming down each day. Turns out, the ambitious undertaking that was supposed to boost the economy and improve the states of MS and AL hasn't been economically positive. But, they still need to continue pumping people through and living with the consequences. And really, it is breathtaking to experience how drastically the landscape has been changed by human involvement firsthand.

Anyway, Crow's Neck is really a beautiful place (a lake view from my bedroom isn't too shabby), and the Army Corps of Engineers has some great rangers. And I just kayaked out on the lake at sunset today. It is what it is.

Venison is delicious, but I could take or leave fried catfish. The ecosystems around here are similar, yet so different to California's. It reminds me more of El Salvador, with the humidity, the sudden downpours, the cicadas, the warmth of the people, the corrugated iron.

And by the way, I'm in love. :)

I'm lichen it.

Apologies to anyone who actually reads this; the internet has been down for a while and just got back up and working today...and I have just gotten around to updating this evening.

Between kids swarming in and out every week and weekends that can only be described as simply (or, to refrain from the oxymoron, extravagantly) bacchanalian, and those moments taken to soak in the fresh mountain sunlight after slogging through soggy weekdays when the clouds have emptied their abundance of water on us at a persistent rate, I feel at a loss thinking of a way to explain all that has occurred in a reasonable or cogent manner.

The days have extended into "tick weeks," a measure of both time and space and used liberally, especially when referring to troubling children or chaperones (who may or may not be troubled by ticks while hiking). I wake in the morning most days with the song "All God's Critters" or "She'll be Comin' 'round the Mountain" in my head, a few hours before we'll actually be singing those and other related songs after doing morning chores and having breakfast. Then, we're off to morning and afternoon activities. I started off teaching the Adaptations class, guiding a hike through a douglas fir forest, an oak woodland, and a riparian ecosystem, adding some related games and stories along the way to get across basic concepts of survival and evolution. Now, I'm teaching Pioneer Tools, which is a fun switch since I get a chance to do some historical re-enactment of the Gold Rush and tell tall tales, all while discussing the use of our natural resources. Then, after dinner, we have evening chores and evening activities, ranging from folk dancing and astronomy to a closing campfire.

My favorite day of the week is the day we get to go on a day hike with the kids, allowing some unstructured time to just explore and play in nature. These last few weeks we're incorporating Living off the Land during the hike, so there is still some plant identification and concepts involved, but for the most part it's just a fun day out. Sometimes, we've even played a scat prank on the kids, pretending to eat "bear scat" (a strategically placed energy bar), which is always a big hit. Watching the kids skip rocks in the river or swing on the wild grape vines is always one of my highlights of the week.

The kids ask so many questions, sometimes it can be overwhelming, especially since they never seem to run out of energy! I keep telling myself that it's just their curiosity and longing to understand more about the world around them, especially in an unfamiliar place and routine, but WOW. I guess I had gotten used to working with teenagers, and kids (especially American ones, it seems) LOVE to talk. When it's not overwhelming, it can be a lot of fun talking with them since they often come up with the strangest things to say or to ask.

I'm getting more interested in how outdoor education works; it still seems that there is a lot of transference of knowledge from the "guide" to the "students," although I have learned a lot of the information that I now share on the hikes through hiking with other kids and chaperones. It's a vibrant lifestyle that lends itself to learning and experiencing the world--I'm just starting to get into it. I'm a-lichen it.

In my spare time, I've gotten a chance to read Thoreau's "Walden" again, while jumping between Tom Robbins and e.e. cummings.

Beyond reading, though, I have jumped back into making music every day. Which feels soooo nice. Being surrounded by music lovers helps a lot. I find myself singing almost constantly, dredging up random songs from the well of musical theatre past and folk music present. On the weekends, we've gone on impromptu road trips that have often had music as their main motif, either playing music in the car (Willie Nelson through the redwoods on the way to Fort Bragg was definitely a highlight), playing music outside (memento: my blistered finger after playing cow bell and tambourine for a straight 3 hours at the drum circle in Golden Gate Park), playing on the instruments in music stores (FYI: an old electric piano and a steel guitar are on my wish list--both can be found at the Haight Ashbury Music Center), and buying music (I am in the possession of a David Bowie anthology songbook, and by association have access to the Beatles' greatest hits for harmonica and the Led Zeppelin complete songbook. Yes, we have played through all of them on piano, guitar, and harmonica). The centerpieces of these ventures have usually been concerts (David Grisman at Yoshi's Jazz Club in Oakland, "Pura Vida" at the irish pub in Willits), intermingled with visits to the local brewpubs.

These small trips will reach their zenith coming up this weekend, when we attend the Furthur (the band composed of Phil Lesh and Bob Weir, the remaining members of the Grateful Dead) Festival in Angel's Camp. Needless to say, some preparation has been required.

I keep being amazed by the sheer abundance and excess of everything here. Just the fact that I have been able to overindulge in music is exhilirating and shocking for me at the same time. Even out in the "middle of nowhere," we have pretty much everything we need. And Willits seems to have just about anything funky you can imagine--imagine a man wearing tie dye with a camo jacket with a mustache and dreadlocks; he has a dried mango seed hanging around his neck and probably drives a truck (I met him last Friday. And if it can't be found, the bay area is always right nearby).

I'm overwhelmed by all this. And I'm lichen it.

New pictures!

I just uploaded new pictures of the first few weeks of environmental education season and the weekend adventures that we've been having!

http://picasaweb.google.com/109026254315451451844/Emandal2010#

(not much time to update--gotta go herd the sheep, slop the pigs, collect chicken eggs, feed the goats and ostriches, etc...guess who's on animal chore duty this evening!)

Videos of El Salvador

The Foundation for Self-Sufficiency in Central America is now becoming "EcoViva" and has created some beautiful new videos about the work La Coordinadora is doing in the Bajo Lempa. My parents happened to be visiting while Spencer Stoner, this amazing videographer, was present to film the raw footage, so they´re featured in one of the videos--and another one is centered around the youth program. Check it out!

http://www.youtube.com/user/VivaEcoViva

(I´m the random gringa in a couple of the shots...)

I´ll write more about the crazy and wonderful kids that have been coming to Emandal for the past three weeks, musings on chewing through Thoreau again 10 years after my first time reading him, and other random adventures when I can focus to write it down.

Life on the Farm

Wake up, climb down from my loft bedroom, go feed the sheep and let them out to pasture, set up the electric fence, feed the stray cats, (delicious!) breakfast with all the folks, hike/farm chores/hike some more/identify plants/goof off with the other naturalists, (delicious!) lunch with all the folks, lesson planning/hiking some more/learnin' stuff at museums and such, lure the sheep back to the barn/feed the cats, (delicious!) dinner with all the folks, jam session/star gazing/movie watching/start a fire in the stove, shower off the poison oak, pass out exhausted.

That's been a basic day for me during the past two weeks. The property here is gorgeous, the food delicious, the people laid-back and hardworking (and very musical--everyone plays at least one instrument!), our little community forming, the soil starting to get tilled and plants transplanted.

The farm is an inspiring place--the Adams family has been running it for the past 35 years, after buying it from a family that had started the property as a retreat farm and homestead in the early 1900s. Tam, the owner, is an incredible woman. Her two sons, Buffalo and Malanyon, with their wives Claudine and Sarah are in charge of facilities, the garden, and the office management, while she invents amazingly delicious food in the kitchen, and oversees everything with laughter and a smile (I don't think I can emphasize enough times how good the food is). It's located right on the bank of the scenic Eel River (one of the few rivers in this country that hasn't been damm(n)ed), which I can hear flowing constantly right outside my bedroom. The farm also has a lake on property and we get our drinking water straight from a stream that flows right from the source down the hill through the pipes to our taps. Everything is organized but flexible at the same time, and our group of 16 employees forms a small family; probably the most admirable way I could think of running a place like this.

Emandal is located about 40 minutes along a windy dirt road outside of Willits, a town of about 5,000 people, which is part of Mendocino County--known for its hippies and rednecks living in a symbiotic relationship. At least, most of the time they are, as there has been quite some hubbub about all of the elusive marijuana farms that squat either on private or State property, huddle deep in the woods, and then steal irrigation sources from the local farmers. With these and the meth labs, Mendocino has gotten a rather bad rap--but I've been quite a fan of it so far, especially after the first day arriving at the gas station and spotting a man hitching up his horse in the Safeway parking lot. They also have some great local museums that are worth checking out.

Last weekend a few of us went on a little adventure to the Solar Living Center in Hopland, and of course we had to sample a few of the beers from California's oldest Brewpub (post-prohibition), Hopland Brewery (in case you were wondering, hops are no longer grown in Hopland). This past weekend, we went contra dancing in Ukiah, which was an immensely enjoyable and wholesome activity, with a live group called "The Skeltons" playing and a caller. Just about as Americana as you'll get in Northern California. And probably just as creepy, considering you have to look into your partner's eyes as you swing around to keep from getting dizzy...and the selection of partners is pretty slim pickin's--if you're looking for a male younger than 50, or at least with all of their teeth and sanity intact.

Between snow last week and intense heat and sun this week, Spring keeps evading this little valley tucked between the mountains. Wildflowers have started to perk up, trees blossoming, and even the bees and insects started to come out more in the past few days. With more rain and sun to come, watching Spring unfold herself is an everyday joy.

I've been spending most of my time with the other Naturalists: Karin, Monika, Wren, and Samm. We all live together and work together, which has worked out pretty well so far, since our personalities are fairly diverse and we're from the four corners of the country, but we all have some things in common: a love for good books, good music, good tea, and a good skinny dip in the river.

The rest of the staff is pretty awesome--Jay and Melissa create in the kitchen, Drew and Hava help Malanyon out in the garden, and Dorian and Leilani help out Buffalo and Claudine with facilities stuff.

Each one of us has gotten the chance to develop our own lesson plans as Naturalists, which has been pretty neat. I'll be teaching folk dancing on Monday nights, followed by a couple days of teaching the "Adaptations" class to rotating groups (basic ecology with some experiments and hiking thrown in), a day hike, and I'll be teaching Astronomy as well on Wednesday nights. After four weeks, I'll switch classes with Wren and start teaching "Living off the Land." Monika is teaching "Pioneer Tools" and Samm is teaching "Seed to Table" (organic gardening 101). And, of course, we all have our farm chores as well--I get to be the pied piper of sheep and stray cats (they live in the barn and the garage, we keep 'em around to eat the mice), Monika is befriending the new Jersey cow and preparing to milk her, Samm is the wrangler of 150 chickens, Karin feeds the goats and ostriches, and Wren gets to teach the kids how to make bread from scratch. Oh, and I've learned a fantastic rendition of The Troggs' "Wild Thing" (teaching about the food chain) to sing at the campfire, along with the John Denver, Bob Dylan and classic folk songs that are probably quintessential tunes for singing outdoors around a fire.

The kids arrive tomorrow. 57 total, 1st-6th graders from Bay Area private schools that we get to "introduce to nature." Crossing my fingers that everything goes well!

Here's the link to the first batch of pictures that I've taken so far: http://picasaweb.google.com/109026254315451451844/Emandal2010#

On the road again...

Watching an old videotape of my dad performing in a barbershop quartet with the Moorpark Melodrama (back in the days when I was rocked in a swinging chair backstage). Having witty and girly dressing room conversations. Singing Gilbert and Sullivan. My family. Friends. I feel like I´ve finally settled in back home, back in this community.

And...just as I´m settling in, I´m taking off again! Transitioning from one community to another. It´s amazing how it just gets harder every time. But communities aren´t stable. They´re changing all the time, some dying, some just being born, some surviving.

The beginnings of spring. A new season. Trees waving in the wind.

A restless farewell.