3.31.2009

shattering geocentrism


Wilco - "War on War"








I think a lot about identity. I have written about it before on here a good bit. Issues with identity cause, I believe, more destruction than any other issue. I might go as far as to say that identity issues cause all the other issues. Problems with identity are catalysts for every other anthropogenic problem in existence.

That is how seriously I think about identity.

Let's start here:
Everything in my own immediate experience supports my deep belief that I am the absolute center of the universe - the realest, most vivid and important person in existence. We rarely think about this sort of natural, basic self-centeredness because it's so socially repulsive, but it's pretty much the same for all of us. It is our default setting, hard-wired into our boards at birth. Think about it: there is no experience you have had that you are not the absolute center of. The world as you experience it is there in front of YOU or behind YOU, to the left or right of YOU, on YOUR television or YOUR monitor, and so on. Other peoples' thoughts and feelings have to be communicated to you somehow, but your own are so immediate, urgent, real. --David Foster Wallace in his May 21, 2005 commencement address at Kenyon College
When I do actually think about it, it's true - I cannot sense anything without filtering it through my nerves, muscles, synapses, and brain waves. But does that have to encourage conceit? Can I be my own Copernicus, igniting a heliocentric fire within my being?

YES. But it isn't easy. "It's a matter of my choosing to do the work of somehow altering or getting free of my natural, hard-wired default setting which is to be deeply and literally self-centered and to see and interpret everything through this lens of self." --David Foster Wallace

Now, what Wallace didn't say in his address, and I assume because he didn't know, is that it takes an identity crisis. It takes a force so strong, that is seems to rip apart time and space, but it does the trick. Just pray for it. Pray for a crisis, something that will take you to a place of brokenness - where you can see clearly all the rotten fruit that you produce on your own:
It is obvious what kind of life develops out of trying to get your own way all the time: repetitive, loveless, cheap sex; a stinking accumulation of mental and emotional garbage; frenzied and joyless grabs for happiness; trinket gods; magic-show religion; paranoid loneliness; cutthroat competition; all-consuming-yet-never-satisfied wants; a brutal temper; an impotence to love or be loved; divided homes and divided lives; small-minded and lopsided pursuits; the vicious habit of depersonalizing everyone into a rival; uncontrolled and uncontrollable addictions; ugly parodies of community. I could go on. --Galatians 5: 19-21 (The Message)
A friend of mine recently expressed to me a disagreement she has with her roommate. Because of the disagreement, their friendship is suffering - conversations are strained, if not forced. And so far, her method of dealing with the situation is to ignore and avoid. Until something happens to settle the disagreement, she is avoiding the topic. But she feels conviction - she told me she feels like the man who has a log in his eye in Jesus' parable in Luke 6. This is the kind of conviction that we feel when we see our own rotten fruit.

"As harsh as some of Jesus' words are, they are also beautiful and comforting. No more worrying about what an audience thinks, no more trying to elbow our way to the top. We have Him instead, a God who redeems our identity for us, giving us His righteousness." --Donald Miller in Searching For God Knows What

That is why being the center of our own universe takes so much work. We have to look just right, like the right music, go to the right coffee shop, like the right people, drive the right car, have the right brand of men's body spray, have a facebook, don't have a facebook, have a facebook, don't have a facebook. It takes so much work because we aren't supposed to be the center! Christ calls us to be Copernicus. We are to put Him, the Son, at the center. Everything revolves around Him.

I'll finish this with another longer section out of Miller's Searching For God Knows What.
This kind of life (one where you aren't the center) could take place only within a relationship with God, the One who takes care of our needs, the One who really has the power to tell us who we are, if we would only trust in Him.

Imagine how much a man's life would be changed if he trusted that he was loved by God? He could interact with the poor and not show partiality, he could love his wife easily and not expect her to redeem him, he would be slow to anger because redemption was no longer at stake, he could be wise and giving with his money because money no longer represented points, he could give up on formulaic religion, knowing that checking stuff off a spiritual to-do list was a worthless pursuit, he would have confidence and the ability to laugh at himself, and he could love people without expecting anything in return. It would be quite beautiful, really.

Do you know what King David did one time when he was worshiping God? He took off all his clothes and danced around in the street. Everybody was watching him and he didn't care. His poor wife was completely embarrassed, but David didn't worry, he didn't care what anybody thought about him; he just took off his clothes before God and danced.

Don't get me wrong, I have no intention of taking off my clothes on Sunday morning at church. I bring this up only to say there is a certain freedom in getting our feelings of redemption from God and not other people. This is what we have always wanted, isn't it? And it isn't the American dream at all, it is the human dream, the deepest desire of our hearts.

I would imagine, then, that the repentance we are called to is about choosing one audience over another. Jesus says many times in the gospel that He knows the heart of man, and the heart of man does not have the power to give glory. I think Jesus is saying, Look, you guys are running around like monkeys trying to get people to clap, but people are fallen, they are separated from God, so they have no idea what is good or bad, worthy to be judged or set free, beautiful or ugly to begin with. Why not get your glory from God? Why not accept your feelings of redemption because of His pleasure in you, not the fickle and empty favor of man? And only then will you know who you are, and only then will you have true, uninhibited relationships with others.
OR, as Jeff Tweedy puts it so sweetly, so simply on Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, "You have to learn how to die if you wanna be alive."

3.21.2009

bush skills

OK, time to play catch-up on my posts...

My second to last week on the farm had the most busy and compact schedule of any week yet. Thursday through Sunday (March 5th thru 8th) was the 3rd Annual Bush Skills Caribbean Rendezvous at Creque Dam Farm. Bush Skills is a four-day event where people gather to learn primitive skills - everything from basic survival (or as we call it, "thrival") to preparing and enjoying a feast. Several instructors flew in from the states to help teach classes, and many more people came to the farm to camp and enjoy our beautiful setting during the event. The farm went from a relatively quiet crew of 25 to a bustling community of 50 or more.

As an R2R student, I took on several responsibilities throughout the week. I helped teach a class, run the registration booth, prepare meals, clean dishes, keep an eye on the dogs, etc, etc, etc. It was exhausting - but it was so much fun.


The theme of this year's rendezvous was "Hunting, Gathering, and Growing" - and each day had its own theme as well:
Day One - Survival: The basics of tropical living - fire, shelter, water, fibers
Day Two - Tracking and Awareness: The functional art of blending with nature for heightened sense of being
Day Three - Plants: Medicines, herbalism, crafts, and food
Day Four - Food Day: How to grow and prepare an all-natural island feast
We started off each day signing up for the two classes we wanted to take during the day - one before lunch and one afterward. Throughout the week, I made traditional pottery from local gray clay, I made a cooking set completely out of bamboo - a rice-steaming pressure cooker, two small cups and a spoon, I made art out of coconut palm fronds, I killed, skinned, cleaned, and tanned a rabbit hide, and I made a "mongoose stick" and learned how to properly throw it for a kill.




There were several classes that I didn't get to take because of conflicts with my work schedule that looked great as well - calabash art and utensils, cordage weaving, vine baskets, tracking and hunting, shell art and bamboo weaponry.




I did get to help Marshall teach a class on trapping, where we taught a group of high school kids how to build a mongoose trap. We showed them how to set it to trap their very own mongoose-dem.


Each night during the rendezvous, one of the instructors known as Snowbear, would start a fire and gather everyone for a drum circle. Everyone was given a chance to share a song or story or thought - it was almost like open mic nights around Snowbear's fire. Marshall and I shared a couple of our favorite songs to jam to: "In Spite of Ourselves" by John Prine and "Meet Me In the Morning" by Bob Dylan. I'm surprised we never got around to sharing "The Weight" by The Band since we had spent so many cabana nights trying to get those harmonies down just right.

The last drum circle we had was just a couple of days before the full moon, and we didn't have a fire going. It was also more like an actual drum circle - everyone had something to beat, rattle, or shake. I had a large calabash filled with loose seeds that I used to add to the moonlit rhythm. After we had the rhythm going hot for a few minutes, we were visited by a creature from the bush.



This is a Moko Jumbie. Urban Legend has it in St. Croix that the bush is filled with evil tree spirits called Jumbies. They are tall and slender (I imagine like a dark, shadowy Ent from LOTR, but evil) and come out to spoil the enterprises of man. To combat these spirits, St. Croix has a tradition of stilt-walking dancers in bright costumes called Moko Jumbies.

When this came out of the bush and started dancing in the middle of our circle, we were all astounded. Nate had obviously planned the encounter, but hadn't told most people there. I was just shaking a gourd in the moonlight, and next thing I knew, there was a 12-foot-tall creature in front of me. It was quite surreal.

The last day of Bush Skills was feast day. We spent the whole morning preparing the food and cooking using primitive techniques.






When all was said and done, I had eaten:

Stone soup - soup cooked inside a pumpkin using fresh vegetables from the farm, heated using hot rocks that had been in the fire for a while. When the rocks were placed in the cold broth, it began to boil within a few seconds.


Cornmeal biscuits that were cooked inside bamboo rounds on a cooking stone that was placed over a flame.


Rice and vegetables cooked inside a bamboo pressure cooker.


Pasteles, which are bananas cooked inside their own leaves with garlic, peppers, potatos and other vegetables.


Mongoose. Yes, mongoose. Boiled for an hour, then doused in BBQ sauce and grilled.


And my favorite - bread. We coiled the batter around a stick and cooked it like a marshmallow for s'mores. I drizzled mine in honey and chowed down. Then I made some more. It was heavenly.





All in all, Bush Skills was probably the most exciting week on the farm. There were so many new faces in and out of our community during the rendezvous, and I learned so many great primitive skills.

And I ate Rikki-Tikki-Tavi.

3.19.2009

Another quest to cure the world of Full Pocket Syndrome

"I am a model tenant and a model citizen and take pleasure in doing all that is expected of me. My wallet is full of identity cards, library cards, credit cards. Last year I purchased a flat olive-drab strongbox, very smooth and heavily built with double walls for fire protection, in which I placed my birth certificate, college diploma, honorable discharge, G.I. insurance, a few stock certificates, and my inheritance: a deed to ten acres of a defunct duck club down in St Bernard Parish, the only relic of my father's many enthusiasms. It is a pleasure to carry out the duties of a citizen and to receive in return a receipt or a neat styrene card with one's name on it certifying, so to speak, one's right to exist. What satisfaction I take in appearing the first day to get my auto tag and brake sticker! I subscribe to Consumer Reports and as a consequence I own a first-class television set, an all but silent air conditioner and a very long lasting deodorant. My armpits never stink. I pay attention to all spot announcements on the radio about mental health, the seven signs of cancer, and safe driving--though I usually prefer to ride the bus. Yesterday a favorite of mine, William Holden delivered a radio announcement on litterbugs. 'Let's face it,' said Holden. 'Nobody can do anything about it--but you and me.' That is true. I have been careful ever since." --John Bickerson Bolling in Walker Percy's The Moviegoer
Mr. Bolling is about to embark on an undefined search. I believe I can relate.
"What is the nature of the search? you ask.

Really it is very simple, at least for a fellow like me; so simple that it is easily overlooked.

The search is what anyone would undertake if he were not sunk in the everydayness of his own life. This morning, for example, I felt as if I had come to myself on a strange island. And what does such a castaway do? Why, he pokes around the neighborhood and he doesn't miss a trick.

To become aware of the possibility of the search is to be onto something. Not to be onto something is to be in despair."
I believe I am onto something, which is encouraging. I am no longer in despair. I will definitely let you know of everything I discover. I want to throw down a rope and give anyone a chance to be onto something.

I am not being self-righteous here at all. I am currently fumbling and grabbing at ropes that others are throwing down to me. I just want to extend the favor - the blessing.

More posts to come soon - I was pretty busy, tired, computer-less, and/or incapacitated during my last week and a half on the farm to post anything. But I am back in the States, missing my fellow castaways and excited to greet old outcasts.

3.04.2009

the disconnect

When we arrived to the farm, one of the first things us R2R students did was to split into pairs and get to know each other. We discussed where we were from, what events brought us here, and what we expect to get out of the program. As my partner Dez and I were chatting, I started to realize, on a general level, why I came here. I became aware of my own desires. Specifically, a desire for connection.

There is so much disconnection in modern society, especially modern Western culture. There is a terrible lack of communication and education from generation to generation, so much so that we treat the elders of our society as a great burden with little to offer. Movies make jokes about old people that don't have any idea what's really going on while their 11-year-old grandchild text messages their friends using horrifying acronyms that butcher the very existence of grammatical rules in the English language.

This very example is what I mean by disconnect. Kids today are disconnected from the English language. They "use" it and communicate with it and write with it, but they barely understand how words are actually spelled, how to form a complete sentence, or how to write without emoticons.

I came here to reconnect. I realized that the things that my ancestors discovered, realized, used, and loved were lost to me. I barely had simple survival skills, let alone farming, building, and cooking skills. Not even electrical skills. Nobody likes a guy with no skills.

I wanted to close that generation gap and reclaim the things that are my rights as a human. To make fire, to grow food, to build shelter, to drink clean water, to eat natural, beautiful food. I didn't want to be removed anymore.

Many people today are completely removed from their food. They buy it, prepare it, love it, and eat it, but they have no idea what came before that. They don't understand the whole process. I want to be a part of the whole process, or at least know about the whole process.

Same goes with my faith. I want to be a part of the whole process. I don't just want to be on the receiving end of some divine light that miraculously shines on me and gives me good graces. I want to know Him.

Now, of course, this isn't necessary. It might actually be easier to go through life ignorant about everything. We humans are pretty good at ignoring things that make us have to get up off of our lay-z-boy. They do say "ignorance is bliss," right? Bullshit. Ignorance is a fleeting, artificial bliss that breeds cowardice and laziness.

So, though it may not be necessary by the world's standards, this reconnection is very necessary by life's standards. It is so easy to start a fire by pulling out your bic lighter and today's newspaper, but have you ever started a fire with nothing but a few sticks you found in the woods? It may take you all day, but when you get that dust to coalesce, and you carefully burn tender to get a flame, it is the most rewarding thing. You were part of the whole process. You were living.

I'll end with a line from one of my favorite Switchfoot songs:
"We've got information in the information age,
but do we know what life is outside of our convenient Lexus cages?"

eating is an agricultural act

So, if you guys remember, each week of the Ridge to Reef program has been devoted to a different (yet connected) area of study. We've done Farm-based Education, Permaculture, Sustainable Building, Agroecology, Renewable Energy and, last week, Slow Food.

Slow Food, as opposed to fast food, refers to a movement started in 1989 in Italy by a man named Carlo Petrini. McDonald's aimed to open a location there, but they faced passionate resistance from the locals because the kind of food experience McDonald's has to offer directly opposes the culture of food there. The movement has become more of a self-promoter with a political agenda in recent years, but their core foundation of belief in the importance of food, and good food, is a great one.

Part of the movement's philosophy reads:
"We believe that everyone has a fundamental right to pleasure and consequently the responsibility to protect the heritage of food, tradition and culture that make this pleasure possible ... We consider ourselves co-producers, not consumers, because by being informed about how our food is produced and actively supporting those who produce it, we become a part of and a partner in the production process."
We spent the week discussing all aspects of food, from production to plating. We talked about different diet types and ways of consuming food. We talked about preparing food and went over a few recipes. Then, at the end of the week, we prepared a feast.

On Friday, February 27, the R2R crew held a Slow Down Dinner. Creque Dam Farm routinely holds these dinners to raise money for the farm. Guests must reserve a seat in advance for a six-course meal, made from as much local food as possible, preferably straight from the farm. But on Friday, the meal was just for us and the rest of the farm crew.

We were split into 5 groups of 2 and sent to experiment and prepare one course to be included in our five-course dinner: appetizer, soup, salad, entree, and dessert.

The dinner was, in all seriousness, an amazing success. I was actually concerned that some of the dishes wouldn't turn out right, especially since most of us had little experience creating a recipe, let alone serving it to 30 people. But it all turned out, and it turned out delicious. Good food, good friends, and good conversation all around.

The appetizer was blanched okra skewered over a polenta circle with tomato and pumpkin chutney topped with a roasted pumpkin seed and spice sprinkle.


Way to go Mandy and Ms. Judith.


Next up was the soup, which I was selected (out of a hat) to prepare along with Ashley. We spent all Thursday afternoon experimenting and creating a recipe for a cold cucumber soup. Every single ingredient (except a little salt and pepper) came straight from the farm. It was entirely raw vegan. And it was delicious.

We had harvested about 60 cucumbers the day before, which is why we chose to work with cucumbers. Ashley and I cut and carved out the seeds of 30. I hiked around the farm and collected about 14 baby coconuts that I cut open to use both the water and meat. We also harvested some fresh cilantro, scallions, sour orange, and honey. We cut, added, squeezed, diced, and poured all of this into a food processor and slowly blended until creamy. Then, we chilled our concoction over night.

Just prior to dinner, I went to the Mandala garden and plucked 50 cranberry hibiscus leaves while Ashley ground up dried sorrel into a powder. We sprinkled the powder over the soup and added two of the leaves on top as a garnish (a very tasty garnish). Cold soup was definitely a good idea and it totally hit the spot.


Ashley and I with our new dish, Cococucu:


The salad was a roasted vegetable salad with peppers, eggplant, and potato, topped with fresh greens and a tamarind vinegarette with sorrel reduction sauce.


Pretty dang good, Marshall and Mere.


The entree was a seared, coconut encrusted mahi-mahi topped with red flavoring peppers, holy basil flower, and green curry paste on a blached bok choy leaf and a side of rice infused with moringa and topped with a ylang ylang flower...


And the vegan option: same as above, just papaya instead of fish.


Thanks James and Dez!


Finally, dessert. We ended the night with a pumpkin pudding cake with raisins topped with fresh coconut sorbet and a honey rum drizzle sauce. (I finished off the sorbet after lunch today. Ugglkhoiee, it was so good.)


Ryan and Patrick deserve a prize.


Most of the farm crew with the R2R students after dinner:


Oh yea, and I have a mustache now. And ironically enough, when I got back from some travels this past weekend, there were some facial hair changes with a few of the farmers. Ben, the founder and owner, almost has a Fu Manchu going on. Keith, the chef, has a dirty mustache. And Kyle is now rocking a Mohawk. At least I'm not alone anymore...

3.02.2009

photographs (that I didn't take)

Two weeks ago, we installed a photovoltaic system at Keith's yurt. We had to put the panel 12 feet up in the air to maximize his sun exposure.


Dez and I were working pretty hard.


That weekend was Mardi Croix. It is this island's (pretty lame) attempt to celebrate along with the city of New Orleans. It was fun, don't get me wrong, but the "parade" was basically a bunch of drunk people who felt like driving their cars really slow through a crowd of people. Here is Ryan, Mandy, me, Marshall, and Dez. I acquired many more beads after this photo was taken once I took my shirt off.


This is Cane Bay, which is on the north shore. This is where Mardi Croix was. It's a really great place to snorkel. There is about 300 yards of reef and then you come to "the wall" where the ocean floor drops very quickly off to 13,000 feet. It is the quickest elevation change from land to sea bottom in the world. No doubt.


Marshall, Meredith, and I at Mardi Croix:


We spent the night at Dez's sister Wendy's house. The next day, we helped her rejuvenate her back yard into a oasis of permaculture.


After a long day of digging trenches and building compost bins, I added a little art to the mix.



Then, we all met up with the rest of the farm crew for a long night of dancing and sweating at Norma's in the rainforest. Don dances like a panther.