Category Archives: permaculture

In Praise of Thorns: Day 5 of a week about Roses

You can’t have thorns without the rose. Be careful of them in the dark.” –Tom Waits

I loved listening to trickster Brer Rabbit tales as a child, especially the ending of Brer Rabbit and the Tar Baby. If you don’t know it, spoiler follows.  Brer Fox has captured and is about to kill Rabbit who keeps repeating something along the lines of, ‘hang me, skin me, burn me alive, just don’t throw me into that briar patch!’, Of course Brer Fox tosses him in and Brer Rabbit crows that he was born in the briar patch and hops off.

The briar patch.  Just don’t throw me into that briar patch.  As a child who spent countless hours playing in the Virginia woods, I walked through many a briar patch, which I called “the prickers”.

No one could get me, no one could find me in those prickly woods.  I learned how to  navigate the briars so that I could slip between them with nary a scratch.  In the places that got enough sun for flowers and fruit, I would nibble on the bright red rose hips in the fall and sometimes sit with the canes arching above me to silently observe snakes, squirrels, and yes, rabbits ambling through.

Thorns are boundaries, marking land that needs protecting.  My briar patch, full of tulip poplars, multi-floral rose ie. the prickers, and poison ivy,  had once been farm fields.  These plants were the first generation of fast growing, opportunistic species to reforest the area.  These ‘weeds’ are less invasive in more well established, old growth forests.  In my woods the briars ended where the old growth Walnut, Oak and Sycamore trees began.

Thorns can also act as nearly impenetrable hedges (around magical cottages perhaps). They are a sanctuary for rabbits and the occasional child.

Thorns are a necessary part of the rose plant, a species full of physical and emotional medicine for the heart and sexuality.  Wild roses are not easily trampled, not easily destroyed.  Drinking wild rose tea helps me to open my heart, embrace my sensuality, and strengthen boundaries at the same time.

In my soul’s forest, impulses that keep me from saying yes when I need to say no are like thorns.  They scratch if someone gets too clumsily close.  They reforest parts that have been clear cut.  They hide, mask, and shield.  It’s just as important for me to cultivate my relationship to the thorny canes as it is to the flowers and fruit so that when I’m thrown into a briar patch I feel completely at home.

I recently loved reading my friend, writer Karleen Koen’s thoughts on thorns in relation to her creative process on the publication of her new book, Before Versasailles: A Novel of Louis XIV.

Formula for Everyday Miracles

Full moon in Pisces.  Here in NYC we’re getting a taste of fall with a series of cool grey rainy days, which makes this time super for dreaming and turning inward.  Last night I dreamt of a heart flame.  An elder put kindling on my heart.  Her soft fingers gently placed one tiny twig on top of another until the pyre was tall and firm.  The fire ignited on its own from underneath.  She blew over it gently until it became an illuminated pyramid.

I’ve just returned from the New England Women’s Herbal Conference in Vermont.  To say that the well has been refilled and is running over is an understatement.  The well has turned into a waterfall.

Before I left, I wrote about the threat to local community gardens and how I was having a hard time rallying to defend them.  It felt painful to have to explain their value.  It’s crazy that we have to explain it.  It should be obvious.   But I went to the community meeting anyway.

Despite being a scorching August weekday morning, there was a huge outpouring of support from all over the city.  Scores of people took turns at the podium giving heartfelt testimony on the importance of community gardens and their own deep personal connections.

It wasn’t frustrating.  It wasn’t draining.  It was invigorating.   I left with more energy to work on our little garden, knowing viscerally and not just intellectually that I’m not alone.  Not at all.  That’s what happens, almost invariably, when people get together for something good—something worthy and life sustaining.  It nourishes us.

The New England Women’s Herbal Conference was like that cubed.  I got to sleep on the earth under a canopy of pine, witch hazel, and birch trees.  I was in the presence of over five hundred earth loving women from all walks of life.  I dragged myself there on a bus that left at 3 AM with blind faith that my well would be refilled.  I had no idea about the waterfall.

I could probably write 10 different posts about the conference, but I have to tell you about the bath.  Curandera and ethno-botanist Rocio Alarcon initiated me and 31 other women into the art of spiritual bathing using the healing ceremonies of Ecuador.

I’m always trying to get my herbal clients to take baths in the plants.  The skin is a huge organ.   Plant medicine can be easily absorbed through the skin through the medium of water.  That’s the basic bit.  Then there’s the nourishing-one’s-self consciously bit.  Hugely healing.  When you add in the spirit of the plants, the Divine, and make it a communal event… well.  Its completely fucking miraculous.

Before the bath I was experiencing what in Curanderismo (Native Latin American curing traditions) is called susto.  Heart sickness brought on by shock.  My soul was a little outside my body somewhere.   On top of that, after an almost sleepless night of travel, I’d spent Friday using all of my powers to stay engaged and alert for the classes.  I’d skipped the opening ceremony, opting for a 14-hour sleep under the trees on the open ground.  I still woke up tired the next day, still contracted, my heart still ill at ease.

After the experience with the bath I became a skipping five year old.  Heart feather-light.  What I loved about Alarcon’s teaching was what I loved about the teaching of all of the elders at the conference.  They all said the same thing.  Its not about us.  You can do this.  You have to do this.  Its too late for masters and gurus to be the ones with all the wisdom.  Everyone needs to step into their own healing power.  This time requires it.  Everyone has to show up fully.

Alarcon gave us very little direction with the bath.  She got us in touch with the nature around us and harmonized us as a group.    She showed us the plants, let us chose the ones we wanted for the group, adding some lovingly harvested and hand processed raw Ecuadorian rainforest chocolate, picked a week before, and told us to pray over the plants first and to massage each other with the water.  We could strain the plant material or not.  I can’t tell you about the experience exactly.  Only that it was profound.  Lots of singing.  Laughter.  Some tears.  Profanity.  Disappearing and reappearing pots.  Oak branches.

When you put the healing power of nature and God (or whatever word you like to use for the Divine) together with the healing power of true community, miracles happen.  It’s a formula.  Simple. Hoping we all get it soon.  More and more.  The world is in susto.  We need some everyday miracles.

I can’t go on. I must go on. I go on. Dealing with Defeatism.

Moonday.  New Moon.  A good time to go inward and listen to what our deepest, wisest selves have to say.

As for me, I have no business posting today.  

I’m overheated and surrounded by waste.  I pick up garbage along the community garden fence as often as I can.  Other neighbors do it too.  More garbage blows by with every gust of wind.

When I throw away trash I feel it in my body.  The landfill is part of me.  This is true.  Its part of all of us.  We all have accumulated waste in our bodies that we can’t metabolize, but that’s another story.

I have chosen this.  Chosen to love and defend this little corner of earth.    I’m sure the garden is necessary for my survival too.

Tomorrow morning at 11 AM there will be a public hearing to help determine the fate of community gardens in the city, which are imperiled yet again.

Why are community gardens imperiled?  Why must people fight to save them?

I don’t want to go to the hearing tomorrow.  I would like to spend the time working on my business, or plotting an escape to the ocean for a bit of sanity and perspective.  But I’m going to the hearing.  Dammit.   Be the change etc. etc. 

I’m reminding myself how grateful I am to all of the amazing people and organizations who work so hard for the earth, and therefore for us, the creatures who live here.  All I have to do is show up tomorrow.  How easy is that?  Fairly easy.

Don’t know if this rant is of any use to anyone else, but I feel better.  So for this moonday…. RANT!  Or better yet, dream.  What is one collective change you would love to see in the world?  What small (or big) thing do you do to make it happen?

For those of you in NYC, info about the hearing and pep rally starting at 9 may be found on the New York City Community Garden Coalition’s website.

Learning to Give from the Overflow, not from the Well

There is a wise Sufi saying, ‘Give from your overflow, not from your well.’  I interpret this as meaning give from a place of love, joy, and abundance, not suffering and self-deprivation.

Today in New York City its a rainy Moonday, which feels good.  Its like a snow day for gardeners.  I’m taking some time for myself after spending a large portion of the last two weeks working on a massive volunteer project.  I’m the director of a kid’s community garden on the Lower East Side called the Children’s Magical Garden.**

 Kids love worms. They get super excited whenever they find one.

Kids, teachers from the School for Global Leaders across the street from the garden, parents, other garden members and I have been putting in a rain garden, a small native wetlands that soaks up the water in the garden’s lowest point.  When the plants have grown up some, it will not only look like a wild, beautiful place, but will also create habitat for more song birds, humming birds, bees, dragonflies, and butterflies… increasing the wildness in the city by just a little bit, and providing an amazing outdoor classroom for kids and adults alike. 

All of this warms the cockles of my heart and so I haven’t minded all the hard work, even though it has involved digging three feet down into ground consisting of broken brick, brick dust, rusted metal and the like.

My hands look, to quote a literary friend, “very Pearl S. Buck” with the ground-in dirt (even after scrubbing) giving them a mottled appearance.  On the upside, I can feel my hands getting stronger and think I would do alright in an arm wrestling contest.

This community garden is one of my greatest spiritual teachers.  Sometimes its lessons have been frikkin hard. 

Its a large unpaid undertaking and has the potential to suck up all available time– very dangerous for an entrepreneur and writer with a penchant for procrastination.  There have also been so many seemingly hostile elements to overcome such as–

  • Toxic soil. (Most NYC soil is poisoned with lead from paint and must be painstakingly amended or replaced with new, healthy compost.) 
  • Endless rubble.  (The garden was build on the foundation of a burned down building and has been sinking into that crushed foundation over the years.)
  • Ignorance.  (Very few people have any gardening experience, and therefore greatly underestimate the challenges the space provides.  They think it is simply a matter of planting flowers and watching them grow.) 
  • Personal conflict/ toxic relationships.  Toxic environments produce toxic relationships.  It has been challenging to say the least to work through personal difficulties with other gardeners.  In the end, however, it has also been deeply rewarding and transformational to all involved.  These transformed relationships have made this next, more productive phase of work/play possible after years of two steps forward, one step back.

What I have strongly come to believe is that service, to be truly effective, must involve the concept of what my Dancemeditation teacher Dunya calls dynamic reciprocity.   This means that the work actually feeds you.  The work leaves you feeling joyful, inspired, re-energized, more creative, more full of juice for your own projects.

Forget selflessness.  For most of us, its a trap.

Dynamic reciprocity goes beyond feeling good because you are “making a difference”.  That attitude of self-righteousness has the potential to slide into its own flip-side, an attitude I’ve felt many a time… martyrdom.  “I’m spending all this time and not getting paid.  My work isn’t appreciated, and yet its now somehow just ‘expected’ of me by the community.  The garden doesn’t look beautiful yet and so people don’t see all the hard work I’ve put in…” blah blah blah.

Then there is “Oh my gosh!  Look at me with my big ego wanting credit!  I’m not selfless enough!  This is about the earth, the children…” blah blah blah martyrdom.

I decided that this year I was going to pull self-righeousness and martyrdom out by the roots and compost them.  I’ve been planting joy and contentment in their place.

I’ve made it a point to focus on activites I adore such as mentoring a small group of local kids I’ve known for years who are committed to the garden and to listening/working with the earth.  I’m learning to better delegate the tasks that I dislike, such as contacting the parks department. (I actually much prefer removing rubble by hand than organizing on the phone.)

I have also reminded myself that it is because of this project that I was sponsored by the community to go to school to become a permaculture designer, something that has dramatically increased my happienss.

The past two weeks I haven’t had as much time to write, but all of the additional physical activity has magically worked out all kinds of kinks in the third draft of my play and first draft of my novel.  My third eye feels very open, and I feel tremendously grounded and focused in my herbal consultations after working so intensely with the earth.  Dynamic reciprocity is happening, and its truly awesome.

For this Moonday, I would as always love it if you have art/poetry etc. to share in the comments, and am also interested in where you have found dynamic reciprocity or rooted out self-righteousness/martyrdom in your own life…

**Children’s Magical Garden website still under construction.  Find lots of pictures of the garden on the facebook group, Children’s Magical Garden Community and Supporters

Thanks to friend, fellow Dancemeditator, and novelist Karleen Koen who first introduced me to the phrase ‘give from your overflow, not from your well’. I’ve been pondering it ever since.