Letting the Way Find Us – October 19 and 22

From my childhood I remember going on walks in the woods with my father. He would take me and my sister to the “real woods” – not the overgrown orchard where we played all the time – and would talk about things, and he always brought cookies. It was a special time. Once we found a rotted tree stump, and he said “peat moss” and the next time he brought a bag to take it home for the garden.

Yesterday I went out to the woods on probably our last warm day for the season. I went to heal, to renew my connection with the land, damaged as it was from the tornado. I hadn’t noticed I was hiding indoors, but there it was. I found tiny sugar maples, and praised them; one Korean nut pine is alive and well, and I spoke encouraging words. And in the many, many fallen trees I noticed how many were hollow, or aging, or beginning to rot inside. Peat moss.

Some places are barely recognizable. The ancient cedar tree is standing but tilted. The old paths, sometimes, are covered with fallen branches or giant trees. The woods are more open – and I can feel the possibility of change, of renewal. Remembering the image of storms as cleansing. New things will happen here. I will be able to allow them.

Some of the old sacred places are simply buried. I can’t get to the East Gate at all, and the North Gate now requires a long walk. But the river still sings, and the favorite place on the bluffs is open and beautiful. The higher places are changed. By the creek, the bluffs are radiant.

This time I was able to take pictures. Because I begin to be ready to move forward, to let the land recover, to let it be.

I gave a talk recently, and have found some old talks that aren’t posted yet. I don’t know how to put them in the proper web page, but I’m temporarily putting the new one here. And the potluck group has started listening to talks by Martin Prechtel, here.

What’s true?

I was asked “So what is true?” These things came up immediately, in this order. I remember who said each one to me, though they’re not unique to those people.

• The only thing we own are our actions. – Fu Schroeder, of Green Gulch Farm.
• There’s nothing at all that you can rely on. – Shohaku Okumura, my teacher.
• Make your home in zazen. – Shoken Winecoff, Ryumonji.

And this, for moments of discouragement: Trust the Way, trust that you are in the Way, from Eihei Dogen.

And I want to invite you to listen to three talks by Martin Prechtel, who I’ve referenced before. They’re now linked here.

Please continue your practice.

Grief, loss, and tornadoes

Loss has my attention today. I was out walking the land with a dear friend that has never been here before. I came back to learn that the Senate confirmed Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court by two votes. If both Lisa Murkowski and Joe Manchin had voted “no”, we would be looking toward a less scary future.

Even then, it’s scary. The Amazon rainforest is no longer a carbon sink. https://e360.yale.edu/digest/study-finds-tropical-forests-are-no-longer-carbon-sinks. The Arctic is melting – https://physicsworld.com/a/arctic-thaw-imperils-climate-goals/. And hate, fear, partisanship rule the day in more countries than our own. 2400 children are now in that immigrant camp in Texas, and families are not being reunited. Within five or ten years we likely face a world far different from even the one we know now – let along the green and abundant world of my childhood.

My past week has mostly been about the tornado. My house was close to the path of the strongest of several tornadoes that came through Rice County. It missed the house and took down dozens of trees. I’m still shocked when I look at the fallen and twisted trees. But also now, with much clearing done, I’m looking forward to what might be possible. I have little trees looking for homes – they will tell me where to plant them.

I’d been planning for the land care retreat, just three weeks away, planning to work with some of Martín Prechtel’s teachings. I’d thought of making a sacred compost pile; Martín talks about composting as honoring death and decay. Now it’s more likely that we’ll work with wildness, making an offering to the wild beings (deer, gophers, quackgrass) that threaten the orchard, as we also nurture the trees and spaces that support them. The orchard is weak because of neglect, not the storm; its weakness is influenced by conventional agriculture, erratic weather (climate change), and all the rest – and it longs for human attention too.

The grief of that neglect, and the grief of climate change, of tornado losses, of everyone we’ve loved who has died, of creeping fascism in politics here and in so much of the world – we’ll allow our grief to nourish the orchard as we do weeding, mulching, planting, cutting. And wildness will be welcome in this time. Because the gardens will not be strong unless the wilderness is stronger, and our habit of trying to control it leads to an inevitable end. We’ll allow the grief of lost trees and loss of control, and move toward our natural place in the family of living beings. Which means receiving gifts and giving them, in the spirit of offering, giving back to the earth which gives us our lives.

I’ve been promising to write about my summer’s retreat, but that will wait for the moment. Life is moving, alive, growing. I will write about that later, and also about the conference two weeks ago that was so exciting.

I have one simple request, though. During a solo in the wilderness, I made a vow to support the pine trees of the world – trees that are being attacked by pine bark beetles and blister rust, that are going up in flames. The beetles attach when the trees are stressed by drought or fire. Their attacks make the trees more susceptible to wildfire, which both heats directly and adds carbon dioxide to the atmosphere. My vow was to strengthen the trees so they will not burn. At one moment, I could sense that the trees had already accomplished this; at another I knew they needed our help.

Please support your local pine trees. I can’t tell you how. Currently I’m offering chanting and prayers and healing energy; do whatever comes to you.

I’m joining a local group working on stopping Line 3, the tar sands pipeline through northern Minnesota – defending our shared home and confronting the state government that I know best. While my strongest draw is toward the plants and earth, I am compelled to join with other human beings as well.

I recommend this article, which as I was reading about the Kavanaugh hearing reminded me of balance.

Howard Zinn in 2005: https://progressive.org/op-eds/howard-zinn-despair-supreme-court/.

“Our culture – the media, the educational system – tries to crowd out of our political consciousness everything except who will be elected President and who will be on the Supreme Court, as if these are the most important decisions we make. They are not. They deflect us from the most important job citizens have, which is to bring democracy alive by organizing, protesting, engaging in acts of civil disobedience that shake up the system.”

Bless you all. I hope you’re voting, this year of all years – please make sure you’re registered. Please love your humans and your earth-beings, and please be well and happy.

Much love,

Shodo

RETURNING AND EMBRACING

I spent a month on retreat; here are notes from the first few days. Below is simple stuff including event updates and encouragement to subscribe.

You should have already received notice on these events. If you haven’t, please check whether you are subscribed to updates. Go to home and scroll down. You might try checking all the boxes, then removing the ones that aren’t of interest.
October 7, Beth Goldring at Northfield Buddhist Meditation Center
October 14, Shodo speaks at Clouds in Water Zen Center
October 26-28, Land Care Retreat (fee, registration required)
Nov 30-Dec 8, Rohatsu sesshin (fee, registration required)

Work days on the farm– dates TBA
Probably Oct 20 or 21, and one day in November. These days are a chance to enjoy the outdoors and help with plants and land. I’m looking for some replies before setting dates. We provide food and snacks, and sometimes people go home with plants. If you tell me you’re interested, you can influence the schedule.

You might also earn a scholarship to a retreat – ask about this.

Potluck with extras – October 21, 5-8 pm – also third Sunday every month
After dinner we’ll either watch a short documentary or listen to a Dharma talk. Decision will be made together with those who RSVP first.

Long distance events in 2019:
January 5, Atlanta, all-day retreat at Red Clay Sangha, January 6, Dharma talk at Red Clay.
January 12 or 13, Atlanta, talk or retreat at Midtown Atlanta Zen.
October 11-13, Bloomington, IN, Women’s Retreat at Sanshin Zen Community.

Right Now: Easy support request:
You can raise $3 for us if you click this button by September 16. I wrote about this before – please do it! A single plane ticket probably gives us at least $5. Leave Amazon, support smaller merchants while supporting us. The Donation page has more information.

It’s good to be home. The sun is setting earlier. A new housemate will be doing some much-needed carpentry; I’ve sanded and oiled the deck and started to weed the garden. Raspberries are still coming. If people come for the work day, we can transplant raspberries to a better location (more accessible, less tangled). At the Land Care Retreat, I expect to offer some of the work from Martin Prechtel’s book, as well as my own explorations and Zen understandings.

And do look at the journal entry.

Love and respect,

Shodo

RETREAT NOTES – PART 1, Black Hills – and PART 2, Colorado, and PART 3, Black Hills again

Today I’ll write about the first few days, when I drove through South Dakota, Nebraska, and stayed in the Black Hills.

After that, I went to Colorado for a two-week retreat (Ecodharma Summer Camp) with Impermanent Sangha. I returned to the Black Hills, stopping first at Devils Tower (Bear Lodge), then spending 3 days in the Hills, going to a second ceremony, spending two days at a Sundance, and driving home.

I had forgotten Dignity, a magnificent statue in Chamberlain, SD, but when I saw the sign I remembered and instantly turned off. I’d heard, but was still amazed by the power of her presence. I lingered, offered tobacco, watched children climbing on her skirts and parents taking pictures, and took photos myself. This became the opening of the retreat.

I slept that night in a remote Nebraska state park, and took time to slow down before driving to an ceremony to which I’d been invited. It poured all day, so instead of inipi (sweat lodge) we had a house ceremony indoors. It doesn’t feel right to speak about it, only to acknowledge the invitation, the welcome, and the generosity of my hosts. But Doyle said I might hear from the Thunder Beings, especially the next four days.

I drove on to the Black Hills and found the small Forest Service campground I’d selected online: Grizzly Creek Primitive Campground. I pitched my tent in the back near the hills, ate, and thought I’d take a little walk along the creek, allowing for an early start in the morning. I gathered everything and then, just for a moment, followed impulse to take five minutes and check out what was behind me in the hills. Two hours later I returned. No water, no photos, nothing. Magical, sacred ground.

I was walking carefully, avoiding the poison ivy, occasionally eating raspberries, and going where my feet took me. I’d stop and soak in the energy of a place. Then I’d think I should go back, but would feel called to go to another place. Just over there. And over there. Up on that rock. Down that hill. Sit zazen for a while in this place. Talk/listen with that stone.

At one point, I caught a glimpse of the carving of the four Presidents – glistening white rock – through the trees. Well, the highway was just below me, and I’d been hearing cars. I turned left, thinking I really should head back to the campground. The sun was getting lower in the sky, and it was at least 6 pm when I started.

I came across a field of crystals, seeming to grow up from the earth. I picked up a few, asking permission and offering tobacco every time. Then there was a giant white crystal – well, 4-5” across – that called. Again I asked permission. (As far as I can tell, regulations actually allow this. I looked.) I gave back the little crystals and picked up the big one. Carried it in my hands, because I had come with nothing. Climbed up, across, down, and around, some scary rock faces just above the road I needed. Somehow, when I actually came down, I was inside the campground, a hundred feet from my tent. And it was time for bed.

The next day, I went to climb Black Elk Peak. I will offer pictures in the next posting. All I’ll say right now is that I was halfway down when the hail started. I hid, thinking it would pass. It let up, I moved along, and hid in trees with a family when the next hail came. We all moved down, and hid again. Under trees, under rock faces, – repeating. A whole crowd of us was doing this walk and hide, walk and hide, and the hail was getting bigger. If I’d known there would be 3/4” hail, I would have walked on through the little stuff. Finally I could see the parking lot, and decided to just run for it – and was so tired that I slipped and fell. I walked on. A second hailstone hit the big bump from the first big hailstone. I just kept going, heading for the bathroom that had running water and heat.

After warming up a bit, I got my clothes, stripped completely and put on dry stuff, wrung out the wet clothes, and headed for a restaurant. Excuse me, lodge. Everything there is fancy. And as I was finishing eating, the waiter told me that a man had paid for my meal – and didn’t want to be identified. I assume it was somebody who’d been on the hail walk with me.

I texted Nikki and said “Tell Doyle to tell the Thunder Beings that wasn’t funny” – and explained what had happened. They both agreed it had to do with the Thunder Beings. (associated with thunder, lightning, storms,…)

My tent was dry; lots of places got hail, but that wasn’t one of them. I crawled into bed and slept hard.

February 8, 2019

BLACK HILLS CONTINUED

Continuing with Day 5 in the Black Hills. I wanted, urgently, to go back to the Rock People and walk down among them. I didn’t quite know where they were. I only knew that I’d pulled off in a blinding snowstorm, taken a walk when it let up, got hailed on, hid in the car, took another walk when it let up – and met these magnificent beings. I sheltered in a sort of cave, and watched and watched. I asked them for help; the hail started up very intensely, and I thought they said yes. Eventually the thought occurred that the sheltering rock could fall down and smash me. Silly, but I left, returned to the car, and drove down to Rapid City for a planned dinner with Karen Little Thunder. She’d come on the Walk for a day plus. This day was when I came to recognize a deep connection with her, and a very deep respect. She talked with me about hail in Lakota understanding, about the rock beings, and about her own spiritual practice. That conversation placed my experience into a deep and wide context. I honor that by not speaking more.

This time, two years later, I wanted to take all the time needed with these beings.

Journal notes from the morning:

I wasn’t able to write after Black Elk Peak and the hailstorm, the people all together, and finally safe. Someone bought my dinner, probably one of those men.

Today, slow, little walks, drying things out, building a fire to warm last of the chili for breakfast, now looking for the place with the rock people. Took photos at Heddy Draw. Looked up and saw an old fort. Sleeping long into daylight, from exhaustion of the hike and the hailstorm. Looking for the rock people. Slow, fatigue. Left a song offering to the valley behind, coming down. Saw the right way to walk up, back to my car.

From memory: I drove and drove looking for the place and not finding it. Finally, mid-afternoon, having passed the park boundary, I returned and showed the photo to a gatekeeper, who was also a rock climber. He knew the place and told me how to find it: the Sunday trail, which begins at the far side of Sylvan Lake. I’d been near there for the hike to Black Elk Peak. I drove there, followed the signs, and found the Sunday trail. The signs said “difficult” and “3.5 hours.”

Actually, this trail is more like a waterfall climb – mostly downhill, often in the rushing water, often clinging to bars positioned there. I was wearing my barefoot toe shoes and very grateful; it was fine to be in the water. And I looked, again and again, for the Rock People. There were so many rock people, I took so many pictures, and it went on and on. And on and on, and getting dark. Suddenly I found myself at the place I’d been two years before – looking out at them. This time, I could follow the trail that led straight toward them. So I did.

I don’t know what to say. The energy was there. I was getting cold. I made some offerings but couldn’t stay, headed back to the lake and around it toward the building. I’d thought of taking a swim at the end, but like the night before I was too cold.

I wound up driving for hours to get the last room in a restored hotel in some small town. Heat. Bath. I wanted a hot meal but had to eat my travel food. I slept on a comfortable bed in a stuffy room at a reasonable price. The next morning I drove to Denver, a very long way and my GPS misdirected me in Montana, but anyway I arrived. Was hosted by a stranger with Buddhist connections, a fascinating woman. Thursday morning I had a phone meeting with the Advisory Council, and that afternoon I connected with my daughter and granddaughter who were checking out a college. A strange but wonderful thing to do. The next night was with another fascinating Buddhist woman, completely different from the first. And then I left to pick up my rider and drive to Rocky Mountain Ecodharma Retreat Center.

PART 2: COLORADO: ECODHARMA SUMMER CAMP

From memory: The focus was meditation in nature, rising to sit with the sunrise, morning hikes with long sitting periods on the land, afternoons on our own, and evening talks.

7/23/18 notes:

Last night, sitting in robes, felt right. This morning, okesa out on the hillside, now I’m at home. [I continued to wear robes and okesa in the morning sits.]

Johann’s “feeling out” – noting sensations without labels and such – difficult, seems fruitful. Twice now, knot in solar plexus dissolved by end of sit. But a sense of massive sadness lodged there. Stop thinking about this.

Solo: We each found a spot on the land for a two-day solo. It was raining, and I thought most of my solo would be in the tent. It wasn’t. I was strongly drawn to a certain hilltop; I pitched my tent between two trees so the wind couldn’t blow it away; made a circle within which I would stay – with an opening to the hilltop. When weather allowed I climbed there and spent hours. Food was stashed far away from the tent, in a bear canister. It was a hard time. I made an effort to meet the various beings there. I remember a moose visiting, eating tree leaves on the other side of the circle, and being afraid unreasonably. It was there for a long time. Of course nothing happened.

Sunday, July 29 – There was a break between the weeks, and time to write. I have only copied my personal journal notes, uncensored. Don’t think about the names of people. (I’m tempted to remove what seems like self-pity or foolishness. I’m going to leave them. But skip what doesn’t make sense.)

The grief that came up in the solo – I don’t know about the fear – is from a wasted life, wasted gifts, inability to offer. It’s lifelong, but at this late date the pressure is intense. The anger at my gifts not being accepted.

7:20 am What I came for, asked for: to remove the blocks to being effective – to doing the work.

8:20 am Thinking of what seems like Alice’s aversion – disagreeing with all my proposals – does she see me as deficient because I have special food needs? Vivienne’s self-confidence, meeting with the leaders, taking air space – a different quality than David’s, a harsh edge – Johann’s being at home with his place in the world, self-confident. Anyway I was remembering E [a mentor 20 years before] telling me that the way I was persecuted and misunderstood (childhood) is the mark of “one of those” – the contrary.

And I’ll never have a 20-year friendship on which to build a working relationship. Until 90, maybe 85.

Life is so rich and beautiful – and it’s because of the work, because it pushes me outward to embrace – but the work is not getting done. What would E say? That this is the work.

Picking berries – the rich, dark, juicy ones always grow in the shade. [from a poem 30 years ago]. But how long, I ask, how long to ripening? Apparently I’m still in painful spring – and in a hurry, afraid, angry, creating myself/finding who I am.

1 pm, after a walk. The gifts of hear-out and feel-out – calming. Could have stayed forever at Creekside: kindness of creek sounds and flowers and green things. Beauty of the aspen leaves.

Noticing: I think I should have the strengths and wisdom of both David and Johann [retreat leaders]. Meaning, all their gifts plus my own. Particularly ability to negotiate the corposystem, one way or another. Attract people and money, speak with confidence. But it’s not so. My gifts are my own, not yet complete, but do not require degrees in philosophy or 20 years living in Hawaii. They require more zazen time and learning from the earth. And losing the idea – or healing it – that something is wrong with me.

That something is wrong, or that my message is too dangerous so nobody will listen?

In that second week, on Wednesday they took us on an all-day venture to the Indian Peaks wilderness area. I was astounded by beauty and holiness, and I wanted to stay for days. Of course we were in a no-camping area. I made an excuse (to myself) to bring a camera and take photos.

Was it Thursday or Friday that we had the one-day solo? I found a beautiful place and settled in, and was nourished. And it was here that I made the vow to protect the pine trees, the impossible vow. I find some writing in the journal, will let it speak for me.

Date probably August 2 or 3

1:45 pm [I was exploring how the vow might manifest] The pines: Everywhere around the world they are. Can send moisture from dust to dry places. Too far. Through the clouds? The vast intelligence of pines? One vast fungal network? One tree, one grove, resistant to the beetles, another resists blister rust. They change their chemistry to repel them, and they send those genetic changes through the usual channels – lightning fast. Whole forests no longer weakened. Immense system. Change their DNA to be less flammable, especially needles and bark.

6:30 pm Happy with group process. Spoke first, of clear vision but hindrances, effectiveness, need tribe. The final list feels complete, with individual, community, and strategic action.

August 6, Monday morning, at Kritee’s house

Back in ordinary world, with things to do. Talking with Kritee, she more wanted to help me than something else – but I will have to ask her. In talking, she heard me say “Going deeper into mystery is the strategy.” I’m thinking “when the teacher is ready the student appears.” [various plan thoughts] What is it I want from Kritee about strategy? Ahh – the big question of where are the weak points, the strong points, in people, the energetic nodes –

Looking at the deeper picture. Now to actually unlock the foundations that lock the Three Poisons into the workings of society.

Thoughts about organizations and activism:

•  Community Rights Organizing – gets people to connect with their home base and defy the corposystem
•  Indigenous activism – connect environmental issues with colonialism; has spirit and vision
•  Valve turners – symbolic and real actions; sacrifice!!
•  And read Lynn’s book. [I’ll announce when it’s published.]

August 6, notes from meeting with Kritee – somewhat random.

Read the Powell memo and the Meadows memo – both online. “More is better”!

Changing the narrative:

•  being weak means: sicker/less joy/less time/have to filter our water [I think this has to do with physical illness, which she is in recovery from]
• ” Acknowledging we all are frail puts fire in my belly.”
•  Decolonize our concepts and language
•  We are not naming the cause
•  can’t do it alone – need friendships
•  liberals don’t live up – fragment [???]

We talked about people from the retreat who might be in a strategy group. I contacted all. One person responded. And she observes that face-to-face contact is essential before using email to organize. And we talked so long that I didn’t reach Bear Lodge that night, but slept in the car at a roadside rest – together with a lot of truckers and a few families. I reached it in the morning, before open, and was able to enter.

PART 3: BEAR LODGE, BLACK HILLS, AND HOME

Bear Lodge – known as Devil’s Tower, but its traditional name is Bear Lodge, a sacred site.

Journal notes:

Bikers everywhere – enjoying all the colorful style. Sturgis rally 20 miles away. [I walked around it as sun was rising; magnificence! Later sat and napped in early morning sun. People started coming, many walkers on the path around the peak. Walked around, scrambled across boulders…

Near the end of the circle, walked toward the colors of tobacco/cloth offerings, found myself in a holy place. Must be ages of prayers and offerings here. Left my given tobacco tie, wished I’d made full colors. Then thought. Named myself, asked permission to pray. Offered same prayers as on the mini-solo: “Find me people to do the work with. Friends, loving each other.”

Notice a turning in myself: less speaking/allying with rocks, move toward people. Now: warm good feeling in solar plexus.

Coughing last night while setting up to sleep in car. Think it’s loneliness. Fine today. Not turning away from people [seems to make things] ok. Don’t know what else.

August 8, Wednesday evening, Oreville campground in Black Hills. Journal notes

Yesterday Bear Lodge, a drive, settling into camping. Today, Sylvan Lake. Two hours walk into the Sunday Trail, sitting with big rocks, meeting a deer, going off-trail, talking to the big rocks at a peak where I could see the original rest area.

Then trying to swim but didn’t. Got immersed in the cold water, finally, for a bath. Then put on toe shoes and went down the Sunday creek Trail again. Drawn to cross the creek to a multicolored rock face. Spoke, made offerings, voice offering, asked for help. Felt the lichen. Something gentle and alive. Felt the rock too. Asked for the one who will join me, and then for more. Don’t remember much.

Returning, climbing up the waterfalls was a joy. Giving youth, (losing frailty and uncertainty), physical vigor and balance.

Noticing changes: there was a “thing” about talking to beings. It seems released. Don’t know mind. Maybe because Johann and Kritee know it too. Anyway it’s let go. And they still communicate. My song offerings are getting stronger.

And the big next step is making friends.

The plan tomorrow is to pack up and go spend the day in those hills behind Grizzly Creek.

I found Wrinkled Rock not far from Grizzly Creek, but for climbers. [It had a feeling of community, unlike most campgrounds – people talked with each other, sat around a fire together, climbed a small rock together.]

Sitting was good, I want more. It’s getting dark, at only 8:30. Eat the peach and then bed.

August 10, Friday morning, Wrinkled Rock – last day.

Reluctant to write. To write about this. And there’s the thing. It feels like desecration, like making it less. [The day I spent on that sacred hill – climbing around, but never finding again the place I had been two weeks before. I didn’t write, and I can’t say.]

And with my last 2 hours, what to do? Last night stayed up late talking with two women, it was so easy, they just talked on and on and it felt good. I could nap. Sit more. Work on the logo. Or go back to places, or to a new place.

August 14, Tuesday night

I was at Sundance for nearly two days. I will not write about that. Though I felt compelled to be present witnessing the ceremony, all the time – and became overheated and dried out as a result. And did some healings on some people, and felt grateful to be able to offer that and have it received.

As soon as I was away, the diarrhea started. Surely related to the heat, possibly bad water – but nothing happened while I was on Sundance grounds. I stopped at the nearest open motel and slept well into the morning.

Journal: But last night a dream. I’ve come to a group of people living together, who wear bright colors, flowing clothes, and seem gentle, happy, and playful. There’s a reason I’m there, but now I can’t remember. I ask the leader, a young man, some question about activism. He laughs and says their activism is this. Trying to put it into words, I say “creating the future” or “joy” or “the center” – I don’t recall my words, but clearly none of them quite get it.

And this is the end of the retreat journal. It’s incredibly long, yet a mere outline. I hope there might be a few things in here that speak to you; please let go of the rest. Reading and remembering has nourished me.

with love,

Shodo

Recommended reading

I have posted a number of links to articles or talks here for your reading or listening. What they have in common:

• They speak unflinchingly to the very serious challenges that we have in this time – whether climate change or collapse.
• They require attention.
• They do not compromise with the conventional; indeed, the Jensen-Hedges dialogue specifically addresses the function of conventional thinking in a time such as this. And the last essay  – part of its wildness is the discussion of connections with other beings – a discussion I’m offering as well.

Comments are encouraged – in great part because this is my first writing here and I’d like to see if it works.

Shodo

Welcome to the new website! Fall 2018

Mountains and Waters Alliance has a new website! Please take a look around – it is now much easier to find the pictures, the people, the events – and you can subscribe to everything or just to your particular interests.

I’ll be adding more information in the next weeks and months – starting with stories and thoughts from my recent month-long retreat. Eventually, the resource page will be a referral library with web links, book recommendations, and more.

You’re invited to some fall events; details here:

October 7, 9:30 am, in Northfield: My friend Beth Goldring gives the Dharma talk at Northfield Buddhist Meditation Center, 313 ½ S Division Street, Northfield, MN. Beth is retired after founding Brahmavihara Cambodia, which for many years provided chaplaincy services to AIDS and TB patients in Cambodia. She is a dharma heir of Gil Fronsdale, a lifelong activist, and one of my mentors.

October 14, 9 am, in St. Paul. I give the Dharma talk at Clouds in Water Zen Center, 445 Farrington Street, St. Paul. Meditation starts at 9 am, talk at 10:30.

October 26-28: Land Care Retreat: Spiritual Practice with the Natural World. At the farm.

November 30-December 8: Rohatsu sesshin, at the farm. (Simplified Zen meditation retreat, honoring when Buddha sat for 7 days and attained enlightenment.

Support us for free

We are with iGive instead of Amazon Smile – a higher donation and you are supporting a wide and healthy marketplace instead of a monopoly. Right now, you can send us $3 just by signing up with them. They put a button on your desktop, and you just do your shopping as always. Major airlines are included, which means that your travel can help us.

We won’t be using the blog any more – everything will be here. I’m excited about this site. Hope it serves you well.

Warmly,

Shodo

The Realization

Suddenly I noticed that for most of my life, my attention was on me. On who I was, on being good, on being great – on supporting an idea I had of who I was. Sometimes this would be about being good enough, acceptable. Or about resentment and anger at those who didn’t recognize my greatness – my wisdom, my courage, my commitment.

It’s hard to remember just how miserable I was in those days. It seemed normal to me then, and this seems normal to me now. It was a flash of memory, of myself in a certain situation – and then in another – recalling that mind, focused on myself and not on those I was supposedly there to help – that brought this now.

It comes back occasionally, mostly in the form of resentment again, when others are recognized and I am not. This is my weak point now. Mostly it’s hidden from others. Seeing it, I can now address it. Gratitude for this glimpse.

And chanting, today, feels like turning the wheels of the universe, my contribution to the activity of life. It’s real.

The End of the World as We Know It?

WE LIVE IN DIFFICULT TIMES. How shall we meet them?

Last week there was an onslaught of events that lead to feeling hopeless. I wrote a list, didn’t want to start with it, then knew it was necessary. Skip it if you need.

• “The End Of The World As We Know It” was the phrase used by the usually cautious NPR as they talked about the retirement of Justice Kennedy and the U.S. Supreme Court becoming a 6-3 conservative majority.
• Also Thursday, the Minnesota Public Utilities Commission approved a Certificate of Need for Line 3, in disregard of the overwhelming public opinion, the unanimous opposition of the four tribes directly affected, and the Department of Commerce position that Minnesota does not need it.
  • Background: Line 3 is aging and should be taken out of service. Among those who support pipelines, there is debate about replacing it in place versus building a new route. Among those concerned about climate change, it is clear that we need to end fossil fuels. That topic was not allowed into the room. The main room was filled with high school students, paid $30/hour by Enbridge to arrive early, get tickets, and sit there wearing pro-pipeline shirts. I was there Wednesday for a short while.
• The policy of separating small children from their families at the border was replaced by a policy of indefinite detention of those children with their families. The children already separated are being lost; families are often not reunited unless the adults agree to deportation – and, rumor has it, often not then.
  • Background: This is actually not new or unAmerican at all. Residential schools for decades tore children from the arms of their families, seeking to “kill the Indian, save the man.” Children died, or were irrevocably harmed. In slavery, children were routinely sold away from their parents. The Japanese internment camps imprisoned families together. We do not have a virtuous history. We have a history of genocide.
• Turning immigrants into felons is new. Many of them are actually refugees, from countries destabilized by wars or economic policies of this government, but there is essentially no legal path for refugees now – according to numerous reports of people who tried to enter legally.
• The Supreme Court approved Trump’s immigration ban, finding a way to pretend it wasn’t a Muslim ban. (The latest version included two extra countries that aren’t Muslim, and claimed to focus on screening procedures.)
  • The Supreme Court supported a lawsuit against “fair share” union payments. In this practice, nonunion members are required to pay a fee reflecting the benefits they get because unions negotiate contracts – not including any lobbying. The claims made (that those fees supported union political work) are blatant lies.
  • The difference in average wages between anti-union and pro-union states is $6000/year.
  • Incidentally, the IWW never participated in those agreements.
• Massive droughts are happening in food-raising parts of the country. In addition, as farmworkers are deported (or leave before deportation), there is nobody to harvest crops. We’ll be facing massive food shortages – for some of us that just means higher prices, for others it means hunger – and there’s no reason to think things will get better.
• Black people are being shot by police so fast I can’t keep up. I think there were two last week, and one of the shooters is being charged with murder. As a white person from northern Europe, I try to imagine if my grandchildren were targets in that way – never knowing if they would come home.
• The list of changes making their way through Congress is horrifying. Again, I can’t keep track. Attempts to destroy food stamps, Medicare, Social Security. Selling off national parks and lands to fossil fuel companies. Defunding and censoring science, particularly about climate change but also about guns, violence, health, and more. (I don’t have the heart to look up any more.)
• Five people shot at the Capitol Gazette – just more violence.

WHAT MUST WE DO?

I don’t have an answer. So here is what I’m doing, day by day.

• Working for money. I’m fortunate to have work I like, though I’d rather be a full-time Zen activist.
• Being with the land, including gardening, working with nursery plants, and occasionally spending time on the hill or by the river. It’s nourishing and also a place for learning, watching the habits of my mind as I seek control over invasive plants and animals. Who is the invader? I keep forgetting.
• Daily meditation and chanting, offering the energy of this person back into the universe. And receiving.
• Ordinary life – the truck needs to be fixed, the berries picked, dishes washed, all the rest.
• Relationships, taking care to be with friends, family, and others in a nourishing way. Resisting the slide into depression.
• Following news, sometimes analysis, often too much, but enough to still be aware and to consider responses.
• Tending the deeper thing, the matter of relationship with the life around me. There may come a time when I choose to be on the streets, or to risk arrest, or some other direct action. I do my best to be slow, centered, connected. Not well and not enough, but this is crucial.

Imagine living in a culture in which there was enough for everyone. Enough safety. Enough food, of good quality. Enough access to the natural world. Enough love.

On Saturday I went into the streets about immigration, with a couple hundred people in Northfield. Not liking protests, I thought that sometimes you just have to visibly say no – and that this is such a time. I’m encouraged by the tenor of that conversation – people recognized there’s something bigger here – and by the hundreds of thousands of people across the country who showed up in the street. If Trump was testing the waters to see how far he could go, he didn’t get an “all clear.”

I’m encouraged by some other things too:

• States, cities, and churches suing over these practices and others.
• The occasional court victory, such as the dismissal of cases against another 30 Standing Rock water protectors. However, if you don’t know about SLAPP suits, lawsuits brought for the purpose of chilling public participation, please read this for help understanding the nature of our society: https://anti-slapp.org/what-is-a-slapp/ Also consider that it’s considered a victory merely to be allowed to bring a suit, or to be allowed to present certain evidence, or to use a defense based on avoiding greater harm (such as climate change).
• Individual humans are risking death, getting hurt, being uncomfortable, spending months away from whatever their ordinary life was, commuting hundreds of miles to court dates which then get rescheduled repeatedly, spending weeks and months in jail – to temporarily hold off a wave of repression and permanent environmental degradation. I’m reminded of the little Dutch boy putting his finger in the dike: so small, so personally expensive – may it succeed.
• Cultural changes: In the water and land protection battles going on currently, it’s become standard practice for the indigenous groups to lead, for white-led groups to follow. As they/we should:
• White American culture is toxic.
• The ranks of small, organic, permaculture, sustainable or regenerative farmers are growing and growing, and organizing. This is relevant to food security, and also a matter of the cultural change so needed. I exist within this network of small farmers, though not actually farming.
• Religious organizations – conventional ones – are increasingly on the side of the oppressed, the the humans in need, the planet – Consider https://isaiahmn.org/ as one of many examples. They are remembering their origins. May it be so.

Martin Prechtel, in The Unlikely Peace at Cuchumaquic: The Parallel Lives of People as Plants: Keeping the Seeds Alive. His teacher, at dying, sent him to the United States to keep the sacred seeds alive. Finally he writes: “For ever after that, the seeds I was trying to keep viable were no longer “my” seeds of the Seeds of Tzutujil spirituality, but the seeds that every citizen of the Earth has somewhere tucked away inside themselves, or outside in their lives, or somewhere in the ground, or lurking around the family baggage, or hidden in their bodies. In dreams or inexplicable proclivities, but always somewhere they never look or know anything about. These seeds were the seeds of that very precious thing we all have that contains embryonic caches of possible understandings of how to live ritually and intactly with an indigenous mind, seeds that have been bequeathed to us all from our own more intactly earth-rooted ancestral origins from millennia previous.

… But, how can we find our seeds if they are hidden in a place we know nothing about, a place we cannot see or touch without the indigenous ancestral mind? The truth is, the seeds do not need to be found because they are already found. We are the ones who need to be found, for the seeds are wherever we go….We have been adrift for four thousand years, floating on people-centered rafts of provisional civilizations that have convinced themselves they are the real thing and the cutting edge of human evolution… the spirits…are effortlessly coursing right along with us….trying their best to get our attention and tow us home to our real selves…while we drift along figuring that the anxiety of civilizations’ never-ending feeling of emergency is normal.”

“figuring that the anxiety of civilizations’ never-ending feeling of emergency is normal.” If that makes no sense to you – if the whole quotation makes no sense – you are normal in this culture. But if it calls to you, whether clearly or faintly, that is the action of the spirits trying “to get our attention and tow us home to our real selves.”

It is our real selves that will find a way. Please listen deeply within for your real self. And please listen outside as well, to the you that is in other people, in lands, in animals, in plants – everything around you is also your Self.

We live in difficult times. It is harder to find the joy in life – and always more essential.

BERRY EVENT:

Still, life goes on. The plants don’t stop. I’m putting out an invitation for Saturday morning, July 7, 9-12 at the farm:

• We transplant lots of raspberry plants, and prune the ones that are left. We do this as friends of the berries, as spiritual practice.
• You can take as many plants as you want: black, red, and gold raspberries, and/or strawberries.
• Black raspberries are ripe and offered for your eating.

Temperature will be 70-77 degrees and sunny. RSVP for address, directions, and so I can expect you. Shodo.spring@gmail.com.  (“Maybe” is also helpful information.) Between Faribault and Northfield, MN.

MWA Newsletter June 10: Offering

OFFERING
The essential nature of life is offering. Some people, and some cultures, still know this. Modern Americans, not so much.

One of the first things that caught my attention in Zen practice was a meal chant which began, “Innumerable labors have brought us this food; we should know how it comes to us,” continued with “This food is for the Three Treasures”, for the four benefactors, and for all beings in the six worlds, and ended with “We eat this food with everyone. We eat to end all evil, to practice good, to save all sentient beings, and to accomplish the Buddha Way.”
I didn’t know anything about offering, but that chant included everything. And it told me I was in the right place, in a holy place, home. (The translation was changed decades ago, but these are the words that opened my heart.)
Martin Prechtel’s 2012 book The Unlikely Peace at Cuchumaquic: The parallel lives of people as plants: keeping the seeds alive takes us into a world where the whole people know that way of offering, of responding to every single thing, every gift from the gods. He describes the offerings that must be made for something so simple as making a knife – the ore from the earth is just a beginning.
The American way of life sees everything around us as resources to be used for our own benefit. Martin refers to this way as hollow, stealing, empty, destructive – and observes that such a life results in destruction.
I wrote a little more here. And if you are nearby (southern Minnesota), I invite you to two occasions to study and practice the way of offering.
SUNDAY, JUNE 17, SUMMER SOLSTICE GATHERING
This happens in three parts; you may come to one or all, and friends are welcome. But please let me know…our address is 16922 Cabot Ave, Faribault, MN, and when you arrive you come to the house that looks like a barn (parking on the left).

• 2-4 pm: We will make an offering of physical work, restoring the forest while also making a path to the future meditation hut. This act of healing and nourishing is our offering to the land, and creating a sacred space opens a door to more offerings.
• 5 pm is a ceremony offering human gifts to what is larger than human. In other words, we will make beauty. Please bring offerings of songs, poems, material objects, adorning yourself – whatever feels appropriate to you. We’ll gather in a safe, accessible place, dedicate the space with our words, and allow ourselves to enter the way of offering.
• 6 pm (approximately) is a potluck supper. Please bring a dish to share. If you can’t bring something this time, please come anyway. And feel free to come even if you’re not feeling spiritual!

WEDNESDAY EVENING, JUNE 20, “ZEN AS RELIGION”

• 5:30-6 pm – sitting meditation with the Northfield Buddhist Meditation Center, 313 ½ Division Street (but enter off Washington from the parking lots)
• 6:10-8 pm – Talk and discussion:

This concludes the “Introduction to Zen” series, with a look at the chants and ceremonies, and a discussion of the classic question “Is Zen a religion? A philosophy? Or what?” (I promise there will not be an answer to the question.) We’ll particularly look at all of these things as the Zen style of making offerings.
And it concludes the Wednesday evening sittings. See below under Zen News.
FARM NEWS
We had a week-long volunteer, Celeste Pinheiro, who knows gardening and jumped right in. Thus we

have some photos of how the garden looks afterward. She’s also an artist, and started work on a logo for us.

Last week my housemate TR asked if I had some work, on behalf of a college student friend. Well, Harry Edstrom came Wednesday afternoon and kept coming back through Saturday. On Friday Cassidy Carlisle came with him, and on Saturday Essam Elkorgle joined them.

So we have lots of things planted, big areas mulched, strawberries moved, trees in protective cages, and three tiny Korean nut pines safely in the ground. We also have another guest room! Funny how that happened: it was raining on Friday, so I asked Harry and Cassidy to do a very small painting job in the guest room. They liked it. It kept raining. I really, really wanted to get that place cleaned up. So they kept painting, I kept moving furniture so they could keep painting, and we wound up turning the junk room into a very nice space (photos!). The next day, with Essam, we moved furniture to turn it into a bedroom. Today Laurel Carrington (Buddhist center friend) promised to bring a real bed! I know some visitors will be very happy.
The most fun thing, unless it was transforming the basement, was working with the hand-powered two-person saw. Here’s a picture of Cassidy and Harry cutting wood with it.
ZEN NEWS
For a few years I’ve hosted a Zen group in Northfield, meeting two or three times a month, while carrying on a daily practice here at the farm (morning sitting and chanting, monthly retreats) and sometimes having Zen-practice visitors.
The Wednesday night group will end with the June 20 discussion. I’m hoping that people who want some form of Zen practice will contact me, and we’ll talk about what we want to do. Northfield has a very solid Buddhist presence, with sittings 6 days a week and monthly speakers, so nobody will be left hanging.
With the new guest room, the option of coming for retreats or longer practice opportunities is much improved. We also have a tent space in the nearby pines, created by Celeste.
ALLIANCE NEWS
We’re working on a better website, date some time this summer.

In mid-July I begin travels to visit some people, some of the mountains/waters members of the Alliance, and to attend a 2-week retreat at the Rocky Mountain Ecodharma Retreat Center. The first week will be just meditation together in the mountains, with a solo time outdoors; the second half will include conversation with other serious environmental activists and meditators. I’m really looking forward to this.
PERSONAL NEWS
I continue to offer psychotherapy services in Minneapolis, which is a lovely way to make a living and be able to support the Alliance. I am gradually shifting this work to an office in Northfield, which will be more convenient.
And that is all for now. Please be well and happy in every way.
Love,
Shodo Spring

MWA newsletter May 31, 2018

We look forward to a summer solstice celebration, Sunday June 17, in the spirit of gratitude for the gifts of the earth and making an offering in return. More information.

You’re invited to a gardening day Saturday, June 2, in the spirit of offering, of loving the land, of befriending our plant and earth neighbors – we’ll be planting vegetables, mulching, moving some berry plants. You may take home some strawberry or raspberry plants. Lunch is provided if you RSVP. Come any time 10-5!

Journal: I’ve been thinking about chanting, what it is, what it means, and our whole relationship to the earth and beings around us. Read here.

News: This is brief; the more interesting things have gone to Journal and Study Group. But at the end of April I taught in Columbus, Ohio. There was a workshop on facing the coming challenges, and a day-long sitting focusing on basic Zen teachings. I look forward to returning. I spent five days studying with my teacher and two others, and came away feeling much nourished.
I’m continuing to work as a psychotherapist to support this work; now I see clients in Northfield and by “teletherapy.”

A week-long visitor, Celeste Pinhiero, is helping with the garden, camping in the pines, and bringing a wonderful energy, more land-based than I have ever been – and bringing in new flowers, tidying, sitting with me in the mornings. Susan Schoenberg visited for a day and hopes to return. T.R. McKenzie still lives here, works full time but we manage occasional fruitful conversations.

Plans for the summer include a month-long journey, centered around a two-week meditation and activism retreat in Colorado. Plus more time with the land, and continuing the deeper work of studying what it is I have to offer. Writing will not be happening so fast.

There are still spaces for short visits for practice, work, and Dharma conversation.
Please keep this work in your heart. And write if you wish.
Warmly,
Shodo

ON ZEN, RELIGION, CHANTING, AND WEARING THE ROBES

May 27, 2018

On Zen, religion, chanting, and wearing the robes

Six weeks ago I noticed that chanting the Dai Hi Shin Dharani is an action that reaches into the very structure of the universe. It DOES something. I started paying attention to this while chanting every morning. It began to feel like a gift, from me into the foundation of all being. I thought of this specifically about the Dai Hi Shin Dharani, long known as a magical chant to bring well-being, composed of ancient sounds that have no meaning in any modern language.

The Heart Sutra has a similar reputation, and I tried it out, chanting in Sino-Japanese with the thought that English words would distract my intention. It wasn’t so clear.

Then, yesterday, I read some words from Martin Prechtel, teacher of indigenous wisdom. He said that whenever you receive something from the gods, you must offer them something. Receiving something includes food, clothing, shelter – everything is received, and must be paid for. What humans have to offer is what we make ourselves. He particularly spoke of beauty, art, and song. And yesterday I went into the woods, forgetting my tobacco (which I offer instead of incense, for several reasons), and then wanted to make an offering. I remembered Martin’s words, and sang a song. I didn’t think, at that moment, of offering one of the Zen chants.

This morning I made sure I had offerings, the usual ones: flowers, the best water I’ve got (my only contribution is bringing it), and a candle flame. I did the usual morning service: three prostrations, the Heart Sutra in English, followed by its dedication to “every being and place,” and the Dai Hi Shin Dharani, with its long dedication to Buddhas, ancestors, spirits of many kinds, and then several lists of humans and nonhumans. I listened to the words and felt them as an offering. The English was a vehicle not an obstacle. My voice and meaning were directly a gift.

After chanting like this for over thirty years, finally I’m learning its meaning. And more. Religion, “to bind back,” means binding ourselves to what is sacred, to what is beyond cognitive understanding. Martin spoke of our offerings as payments to the gods. There are some things his people just don’t do because they’re too expensive – not materially but in terms of time, offerings, rituals – so they have no cars or cellphones. I intend to learn more about that sense of balance. Right now, it looks to me like this:  Being in relationship involves giving and receiving. A relationship based on buying and selling, on exact exchange, is hollow – like most commercial transactions in the world where I live. A relationship based on unequal giving and receiving is an unequal relationship – appropriate perhaps for parent and child, but otherwise exploiting. A relationship with generous giving and joyful receiving, in both directions, is what we want. And that is the kind of relationship I want to have with the universe as a whole, and with all the people in it.Zazen also is an offering. I’ve said before that to sit zazen is to consciously participate in the great act of creating each other, all beings in the universe, that act which goes on with or without our knowledge. Now its quality as offering appears. I sit down, I offer myself, my whole self, to participate in the mutual co-creation – which is also my whole self.

AND – wearing the robe. Now I see more of why I wear the robe every morning for zazen and service. It acknowledges. It places this human body and mind into the sacred context, as one who offers. Remembering that the first time I wanted to wear the okesa was when I watched Katagiri Roshi bowing at the altar while we all chanted the names of the ancestors. That day, I could feel the energy flowing through his moving body toward the altar and up, out to the universe. That day, I wanted to take that place and let the energy flow through me.

That’s the difference between philosophy and religion. Relationship. Love. Gratitude. Offering. There is nothing but offering.

May 11, 2018: Zen, practice, and 70

May 11, 2018: Zen, practice, and 70

Last Monday I returned from 10 days of Zen – first, teaching in Columbus, Ohio, where my student Don Brewer lives and practices. He and Marge hosted me magnificently, and a total of perhaps 40 people came to the events – a climate change workshop and an all-day sit being among them. Between times, mostly I rested, and socialized with a few people. I don’t know why I was so tired. But this teaching – it requires something, and I’m not accustomed to it. I’d found myself unable to plan. Friday evening, I was full of anxiety – having to create the workshop as we went along, even though I’d written an outline. I heard it was good, and then relaxed a little. And then it became clear what to say on Sunday, and that was easier. I liked that talk, and I’d like to retrieve it.

I’d like to retrieve many of my talks, now that I’m managing to record them on my phone. The “learning new technology” thing is a barrier. I’ve learned lots of technology, and you always have to learn another one. So I try to get the recordings onto my laptop, hoping some day for the energy or for help to process and share them.

And it would really be better to write things as I go. That was over a week ago, and it’s faded. I’ll try harder.

From Columbus, Don drove me to Terre Haute, Indiana, where I visited my old friend in prison. He’s been on Death Row for years, has exhausted all his appeals, and keeps thinking he’ll “get a date” some time soon. His life hangs on national politics and what the President cares about – and what Congress is willing to do. He renewed his promise to let me know, so I can try to be there.
Then the treat: a 5-day teaching retreat, called Genzo-e, with my teacher Shohaku Okumura and friends Taigen Leighton and Byakuren Judith Ragir. Judith was one of the first people I knew in Zen, and is ten years ahead of me. I always admired her, but now with my own stability in practice I listened and heard the depth and power of her teaching. The text was “Gyo-butsu Igi,” a writing by ancestor Dogen, about practice-buddhas, dignified conduct or (different translation) awesome presence. I don’t know what to say, but hopefully I’ll write something in “study group” later.

I pitched my tent on the grass behind the dorm, and learned how to get there on time. In support of me, they didn’t burn incense while I was there. But the windows were closed most of the time – cold, heat, rain, or outside noise during lecture – and I had to wear my mask nearly all the time. The first day I tried to cheat, and had a very bad evening – so I kept the mask on after that unless the air was completely clear. I hadn’t thought I could tolerate wearing it for five days, but, one hour at a time, one minute at a time, I did, and the zazen was supportive and the talks were brilliant, exciting, and nourishing. And it’s lovely to just be a student, with no responsibilities other than to keep the schedule and harmonize with the other practitioners. I left happy – and wondering whether it’s realistic to return. But I will, in the same way, because my teacher plans to retire in five years. I envy him a bit: at 70, he has a whole life work behind him. At 70, I’m just beginning mine. Probably started at 65, when I led the Compassionate Earth Walk, a life-changing experience. But Mountains and Waters, still in its very early phases, is my life work. Whatever it turns out to be – two years ago I went on a retreat in the mountains with David Loy and Johann Robinson, and everything turned upside down. Last year I spoke with some ancient characters carved on a hillside, and things moved again. This summer I’m taking a longer retreat, in the mountains again, to allow things to turn again, allow myself to be moved.

The fundraiser:

I ran a Facebook fundraiser for Mountains and Waters Alliance (MWA). I thought about $2000 would really be enough to pay for building the website and maybe operating it for a year or so. But FB says ask for small amounts so people will feel good. I set a goal of $1000. Then FB says “offer matching funds” so I offered to match the first $500. The bummer – $500 actually was donated, FB tells me to produce on my pledge so I donate $500 – and then FB says I’ve met my goal! Grrrr. I donate money to MWA all the time, they’re not supposed to count my  donation. So I wrote a note and one more person has donated… But the $950 in unsolicited donations earlier this year will probably take care of the website.

I hate asking people for money, or any kind of self-promotion. I know too many people raising money $5 at a time for food, for gas, for bail money for front-line activism – or because they’re being bombed in Gaza. I feel guilty, then consider it and know that I’m doing what I think is most useful – So I went back to work, as a psychotherapist, which is both well-paid and something I enjoy. Well, I do enjoy it, but the money isn’t coming in the way I wanted, and the work is expanding way beyond the allotted two days per week. Because I have to keep learning, and because there’s administrative work even though the clinic does the billing. So I’m tired a lot and trying to figure out ways to cut back. When successful, my total (including Social Security) will be over $20,000 a year – comfortable to live on, but not enough to move forward with MWA or upgrading the farm.

I’ll post just a note in “Study Group” because I promised weekly. I don’t have time to write a proper blog post. I feel just fine about prioritizing in-person human contacts, but this other stuff gets lost. Wishing I had a “social media” person. Oh well. Spring is here and I’ll be outdoors with friends shortly.

Apologizing for not writing

Apologizing for not writing

I want to be thoughtful, give this page my best. Because I’m overcommitted, this results in not writing. It would help me if I knew that people were following this – I just know of one. Please let me know if you read this, if you want to read more. Thanks.

What I wrote three weeks ago

And here finally is what I wrote three weeks ago, 4-20-2018:

In a facebook conversation, I found a new expression of what this work is about. So often I get discouraged, disheartened. Something like this popped into my mind. And, since I’m trying to write a pitch for a fundraising campaign, I made words trying to express it.

Imagine every tree and mountain, bird and earthworm and mushroom, every river and every inch of earth engaged in a great act of giving life to each other, to everyone, all the time.
Imagine it’s really that way, and we’re the only ones refusing to be part of it.

The evidence is mounting up: this is the way the natural world works. Let’s join it.

Mountains and Waters Alliance.

Daydreaming about visiting Daniela Myozen at Furnace Mountain Zen Center. Such a long way, so much fossil fuels and I dislike driving. Daydreaming about walking or bicycling. Imagining a walking pilgrimage: leave home. Stop at Terre Haute and visit my friend in prison there. Walk to Sanshinji, along a road I’ve driven so often. Walk to Louisville to meet a new friend. Pilgrimage to Port Royal, honoring Wendell Berry, if he would accept a visitor. Walk to Furnace Mountain.

I thought then I’d walk to my grandchildren in Atlanta, but that adds almost 400 miles and I’ll be tired by then. I’ll get a ride to Atlanta. So the walk is 843 miles.

A lot of beautiful roads. I have walked 10 miles a day, but could work my way up to 20. – so it’s something over 42 days. Call it 2 months, with rest stops and all. Carrying a pack. Need a super-light tent – or finish making that bivy sack I started on the Compassionate Earth Walk in 2013. And need to be in shape. (*Update: I bought a super-light tent, under 3 pounds).

I would have to be really retired, and need to leave the farm in somebody’s care. I want to do it. I could start exercising now, start getting in shape. Walking. Biking. As much as possible.

……….

Thoughts following a Facebook discussion of population.

A modest proposal: Since it takes 5 adults to raise an emotionally healthy human (said by some, makes sense to me) we could reduce population rather quickly by changing the way we do child-raising. Instead of one or two parents exhausted by their children (these days, including paid day care and the rest, and the endless shuttling to camps and lessons for those who can afford it), how about 5 couples have two children, raise them together, put their joy into them. Of course they will want to have a bigger family – a crowd for the children to grow with – each set of 10 adults/2 children could have a crowd, maybe a total of 50 adults/10 children or so, for the informal kinds of schooling, playing, ball games or gardens or walks in the wood….

Another advantage: you could have children without having to be married. Big advantage: HELP! And saving the planet is not to be ignored.

Having those kids at age 30 instead of age 20 is also helpful. Reduces the multiplier effect.

In one generation each billion could become 200 million. In the second generation that billion is 40 million; in the third generation it’s 8 million, and in the fourth generation we’re down to a livable population.

Of course it’s too slow for the actual pace of climate change. So what?

Let me add – this is for the wealthy countries, places where people can expect Social Security and other systems, not needing their children to support them in old age. Start here. The others will follow when that matter of old age support is handled.