Natural Building (Internship 2005)

 

(some parts need editing, but are insightful and interesting none-the-less)

 

Cob/stone foundation

I'm amazed by this place. I never know where to start responding to all the fascinating things people are talking about, but this sort of overstimulation is a good thing. I woke up around 8:30, wrote a little bit, and while I was looking for some breakfast, Deanne came in from her cabin. She likes to sleep in a little cabin a little ways behind the house and gardens, so I usually have the place to myself at night. She has been reading one of my books, Original Wisdom, and really liked it. It's about an anthropologist and his experiences living with the Sen'oi tribe of Malaysia, with some great stories about the wisdom of indigenous living.

 

She asked me if I'd like to forage to find some greens to go with eggs for breakfast. So, we went outside, and I was introduced to some of the many edible plants in the area! There are some Lamb's Quarters growing just outside the house. They're so named, she said, because it blooms around the beginning of August, or Lammas. We picked some arugula leaves, which have a spicy peanut-buttery taste, some dandelion leaves, and what we think is wild marjorim (though we're not sure it's not oregano). She got me started on a project, creating an inventory of the plants in the area, and making a chart of their uses, descriptions, etc. I've already learned so much!

 

Deanne really enjoys teaching, and it motivates her to do the many things she wants to accomplish. She's very laid back, is a little disorganised, and has trouble making decisions. I feel my talents and skills and creativity are put to great use here, and it's fun to help her and share things with her. I think it's fun for her, too. I've occasionally volunteered to help out with projects where it seemed all they cared about is extra manual labour. That's not fun or fulfilling for anybody. Here, it's not like that at all, and if anything, I feel guilty that she's not expecting enough of me. When you make it about *now* and sharing and cooperation and relationship, everyone benefits, and great things can happen. It may be greedy to look for volunteers for free manual labour, but how does that create *meaning*? *This* is real life: no means and ends, just now.

(Inserted Comment from Deanne: I am expecting more organization from myself, and clarity on goals, yet I still believe in the joy of living "naturally" with the flow of the day, as did all our anscestors. I seek a balance which includes enjoyment of the process as well a effective action!)

A woman named Carolyn, who helped to start the Strawbale Studio project and is a co-owner of the property, came in the morning and shared her diverse interests. I only remember sacred geometry and singing, but my mind was so full of wonder at all the fascinating things people are interested in, that the other interests seemed to blend together in my mind in a "Wow, is this place for real?!" sort of way. The subject of adulthood came up. All three of us were like, "Ewww, no growing up for me!" People much older than me, so young at heart!

 

I worked on the plant inventory for a little while, and then came outside, where Deanne was giving a tour of the Studio. A young man, his wife, and two little kids were there. They've been WWOOFing on a farm in Columbiaville (where Deanne said she'd like to take me). The little girl was wearing a t-shirt for Falcon Ridge Folk Festival, and the man was wearing a New York Jets shirt, so I guessed they were from New York. I mentioned Falcon Ridge and how much I wanted to go this year -- with Tracy Grammer and Dar Williams! The wife, Nikki, told me they camped there 4 days and it was an incredible energising experience. She saw Tracy and Dar and said they were awesome. When we went inside, and I pointed out the spiral and candle holder, she pointed out something I hadn't seen: one of the holders is below and on the left side of the spiral, and the other is below that one and bigger. It reminded her of a breast and a womb, and then it became totally obvious to me. Deanne said she didn't have that in mind, but maybe some ancient archetypes are speaking through her or something.

 

There were a few other people on the tour. One couple from U of M, and a cute shy girl who looked to me a little bit like Amelie. Also a high school senior, Emily, who likes travel and languages. There was another high school kid, who's thinking about coming to intern next summer, and we were looking at a beautiful calendar of Celtic designs Deanne had on the wall. We both agreed we'd never get a typical green tattoo. It would hve to be colourful and intricate, beautiful and meaningful, and some of those Celtic designs definitely looked promising.

 

Deanne is going to teach me sewing and felting! She felted a potholder out of *cat fur*. We drove over to Upland Hills, where I worked a little more on the inventory, and finished the wood chip path. I also helped Deanne with a self-tour pamphlet for the Energy Fair, and did some layout work on the computer. I was happy that my suggestions were taken seriously and my creativity actually acknowledged... That doesn't happen very often, and it was very validating.

 

We walked with Teva around the EAC and the school grounds, and after we got back, Jill was at the EAC. She put a pot of boiling water down on the carpet, and when she tried to pick it up a couple seconds later, it was completely stuck! We all just laughed about that. We laughed even harder when a man came in and we gestured at the teapot asking him if he'd like some. We were laughing and he thought there was a snake in there or something. We tried to assure him it was nothing like that, and finally he tried to pick it up, and understood. I eventually got the pot off the rug, and it was only a little damaged, but the teapot had seen its last day.

 

Chris Tarr brought back some of that great salad I had at the restaurant in Oxford, as well as a pizza -- I haven't had pizza in months! Deanne bought a copy of Farenheit 9/11, and neither of us had seen it, so we were going to watch it tonight, but it took us longer than expected to finish the pamphlet, and we were both tired when we left. I didn't know I could be creative, but I'm really finding the opportunity here to express that side of myself!

 

I thought I could work on making an online photo tour of the Studio, and Deanne thought that was a good idea.

 

Tonight, for the first time, Teva let me come near her and sit right by her side. I took the opportunity to try some reiki on her, hoping it would calm and relax her, help her feel more comfortable around me. Then I came and wrote in my journal for a while, but I'm sure there's so much I must be forgetting...

 

8/26/2005

 

We stayed up really late last night but I still had trouble falling asleep. When I finally got up, Deanne had gone out to do some chores. I made lots of coffee and went out to take some pictures of the studio (and some pictures of local plants). I made some lunch, read a little bit of Honoring the Medicine. I saw a sculpted figure with a leafy, elvish face sitting around the house, and when Deanne came back, I suggested that it would look perfect in the Studio. She said she had it around for inspiration, and was thinking the same thing!

 

We went over to the EAC where Mary told me about her short trip to Boston and how much she enjoyed Harvard's Arnold Arboretum. I'd never been there, but now I'll have to go... I'm always looking for new things in the area to show people... I love showing people around and being hospitable!

 

I worked on numbering the locations on the tour pamphlets because Deanne had forgotten to do that with the original copy. There was an interesting conversation about women having a collective memory of being burned at the stake. I told of my mother having 'flashbacks' of being crushed by stones when she went to Salem as a little girl. She fainted there, too, the only time she's ever fainted.

 

We had a birthday party for Deanne in the evening. A potluck dinner in the Strawbale Studio. Nikki, her husband and kids were there. They've been really nice to me. I played with her kids... Lily, and... what was the boy's name? ... and had a great time. I was playing the guitar with Lily, and she started making up these enormously creative rhyming songs. She must be only 4 or 5! I was playing with her, and then all of a sudden, she started singing "Hey Jude" and I laughed so hard. The Beatles always bring people together!

 

I also took the kids up the loft in the east wing. We had fun up there. I talked to Jim McDonald and a couple other people, complimented him on his leather boots (which he made himself). We talked about Detroit, and the strange phenomenon of people being unwilling to even go into the city. I wonder how much of that is racism...

 

Mary mentioned Circle Pines, and my ears perked up -- Circle Pines! I know that place! We talked about what a great place it is and what amazing kids I encountered there.

 

8/27/2005

 

Energy Fair day! Amber (one of the interns) had some delicious chocolate covered strawberries that we ate in the morning. Deanne, a friend of hers, talked about faeries and animism. I drove to the fair with Amber, and when we got there, I wasn't feeling very good. I shared a personal problem with Deanne, and she was very helpful. She said maybe we could meditate on it tonight and come up with a solution. After getting it off my chest, I felt a lot better. Overall it was an awesome day, though I couldn't help but find some of the presentations a bit boring. When I give a presentation, I strive to make it exciting and totally worth the time of those who are listening. I try to convey *why* I'm interested in the subject I'm speaking about. I'm really bad at impromptu public speaking because if I talk I don't want to say anything that's not important. I want to get to the crux of the issue. I might not have more than a sentence or two to share. I'll hear other people talk for five minutes, and I'll wonder if they actually said anything of substance. Time is valuable to me, and I know the time of those who are giving me their attention is valuable, so I really try to make it worth their while. I may not be a great speaker, but when I do this, it tends to work, because I've gotten big applauses after such presentations where I just *know* they enjoyed it.

 

At the peak oil presentation, I purposelly went over to a cute chubby blonde girl about my age. Her name is Bianca, and she's very interested in peak oil. She's a student at U of M Dearborn studying earth science. She said I should come down to Dearborn because there's something I might be interested in on campus. She doesn't like to drive, wants to get a scooter... and is in Dearborn...

 

I realised I had read articles by John Ritter, one of the presenters at the Peak Oil presentation. It was interesting, but not too much I didn't already know, and I think a few things were left out. One thing that was really interesting to me is their estimate that, when peak oil comes (if it hasn't already), gasoline prices will rise 18-80% every year. I saw another presentation by a physicist discussing hydrogen. He brought his recumbent bicycle, and I asked him about it after the presentation. He said they're a lot more efficient than a regular bicycle, and I'd be amazed how easy they are to ride, even uphill. He said, "Try one. You'll love it."

 

I also found that, for some people, their interest in sustainability seems to be motivated by something very different than what motivates me. They're interested in sustainability because we have no other options, because we're entering a crisis, or because "we have to." There are no real paradigm shifts about the way we live and relate to each other. With these people there's no rethinking consumerism, or considering that consumerism itself might actually be detrimental to our health and happiness, but rather, just finding alternative "sustainable" ways to keep living in our consumerist world. Maybe these people do advocate paradigm shift, but they don't talk about any of that, because they're more interested in reaching mainstream audiences. My reason for wanting a sustainable world is so simple... not "because we have to," but "because it's beautiful." People say they don't like wind farms because windmills are ugly. To me, windmills are beautiful, because they're a *symbol* of sustainability. They're a lot more beautiful than all these relics of the petroleum industry. I ran these ideas by Deanne on the drive home, and she really liked them. We also talked about grants and funding. She's going to help me learn to get grands and fund my own projects. She's an expert with this, and until now, I had no idea there were so many ways to get money to work on important projects.

 

I've really felt like this is a new home to me. It's just amazing how many connections I've made here. It's amazing to have adults who listen to me and take seriously my idealism and creativity. I've felt so acceptd here, so useful, so nurtured, so much a part of something. I'm starting to think of Detroit as my 'pet project.' I really like Detroit because there's so much to be done. It's in really bad shape, and there are so many creative people working to make it better. There's a lot to be done, and so many ways to make a difference. THere are old abandoned areas where nature is reasserting itself. People are taking advantage of this and planting urban gardens. There's a lot of grassroots work going on... and I like that.

 

I was a manservant at the rennaissance dinner in the thatched cottage. I never thought I'd be one to mingle with the authenticity police, but the people receiving the dinner were wearing silly hats and... I found myself thinking things like, "They look so silly! How can this feel like the rennaissance to them? They look like silly modern people making fun of the rennaissance! I would feel so embarrassed if I..." I was judgemental. I have to humble myself and realise that the problem is my own lack of imagination. Not their hats.

 

8/28/2005

 

Deanne, Jim, Stephanie, Liam Sage and I (and a couple friends of Jim and Stephanie) went to the Renaissance Festival in Holly. It was Highland Fling day and the place was invaded with kilts, more than I'd ever seen anywhere in one place. The prices on kilts were excellent though, and I decided to buy a new purplish short-kilt and to sell my great kilt. I got complimented on my boots, but not the kilt, because I was just one of a billion other unoriginal people wearing them... short kilts, great kilts, women in kilts, leather kilt... oh, and leather. There are so many leather shops at the festival, and some of the prices are really reasonable. I wanted this pair of leather boots with really cool buckles, but they were out of my size, so I found another pair I was really happy with... no buckles, but cool laces. Jim wore his own hand-crafted leather boots and we talked about how awesome leather is as a material. You can make anything with it, do anything with it, it smells great. Sometime soon I just have to get started with some leatherwork. It would be so exciting to dye it and carve designs and symbols into it and make all sorts of things!

 

The bodice of the day award went to the wife of the pickle vendor in front of Manolete, but the bloke said to me, "If you're gonna keep staring at my wife's boobs, you've got to give me a dollar." I was honestly appreciating the bodice itself (well... maybe....) It was beautiful purple leather with Celtic designs on the front. I gave him the dollar and he told me to go away! Later he told me he'd give me a pickle for my dress. How rude!

 

Deanne likes to have really long conversations with the vendors, and since she's involved in natural building, she really loved the mud faery. She thought she could make a case that the festival was a work expense and therefore tax exempt. Jim, who's really funny and creative, said that come tax season the IRS would be like, "What's this? Consultation with the mud faery?"

 

I glamourbombed with a couple of girls who were offering free hugs. I gave them a couple big bottles of bubbles and we started blowing them. I had a few bottles of bubbles with me, and would have bought more, if I hadn't already bought out Meijers' supply of them. Someday I want to buy a couple hundred bottles, and run around faire inciting a bubble orgy. Kids flocked around the fountain and they had such a great time blowing and playing with the bubbles. I made one little mistake: telling one kid I liked his name better than his sister's, not realising his sister was right there! Eek. I was trying to make him feel good. Why did I even do that? I don't want to teach people to feel good about themselves by putting other people down!

 

I mentioned to one guy working there what a beautiful day it was for faire, and he told me, "It's a beautiful day for a bike ride, too." I was confused and didn't know how to respond! Then he told me he biked from Holly out to Canada and back in the morning before getting to faire. That must have been quite a morning.

 

After faire we all went to eat at a restaurant called Clarkston Union. I had a really good chicken sandwich (almost as good as Living Earth's Pride O The Farm!) and roasted potatoes. I was exhausted by the end of dinner, but we went to Ronna's house in Walled Lake to pick up Teva and a lot of good leftover food she had for us.

 

 

8/29/2005

 

It's such a beautiful day. Late August, the leaves are just beginning to turn to yellows and reds nad oranges in some places, just a hint of autumn. Very little humidity in the air. We walked around the grounds and saw a little dead mouse, just lying there, not looking as though it had been attacked by a cat or anything. Just dead. I'd never seen a mouse just lying dead like that before. We ate some apples and walked around looking at the various plants. I'm learning so much and I'm slowly turning into a real herbalist! Today we found Wild Geranium, St. John's Wort, Queen Anne's Lace, Plantain, Spotted Knapweed, Black Eyed Susans, Russian Sage, Virginia Creepers, and Chokecherries.

 

I spent most of the day, after our walk, researching and making a chart of the plants I found. I was surprised to find that plantain, taken orally, can be used to ward away mosquitoes. It contains vitamin B, and mosquitoes apparently don't like sucking Vitamin B filled blood!

 

I slept late, recovering from a long day at faire, and Deanne is spending the day writing grants. I looked at a book on fiscal sponsorship, and we talked about grant writing. She was going to write a grant to get me some money for a stipend, but I suggested I write it myself, so I can get the practice. I thought about other projects I might want to work on, and one that's been on my mind for a long time is converting universities to solar energy. It would be educational. They would lead the way for the rest of us to take advantage of solar. And I think, done well, a solar powered university could attract all sorts of people interested in learning about alternative energy.

 

It's really amazed me how many connections I've made here, and though I was thinking about going to Europe next year, I think I'll just come back to Michigan. There's just too much to do here! I had no idea until I came, but it's so much better than I expected! My creativity is put to good use, and I can benefit the project, and the world, as well as myself. I also like Michigan for a couple reasons: 1.) lots of land in Detroit for about $5. 2.) Free camping in state parks!

 

Deanne, like me, likes paying attention to synchronocity. Here's something that happened this morning. I asked Deanne if she'd ever heard of anyone building a strawbale castle. She said she hadn't. A few minutes after I asked this question, she received an email from a girl in the Netherlands telling her there's a Strawbale Castle project going on over there.

 

 

8/31/2005

 

I played with cob for the first time. Cob is basically an earthen building material, just a combination of dirty, sand, clay and straw (and if you get subsoil, the stuff a few inches below the ground, that usually has a good combination of the first three). There are many great things about cob. It's fun to play with. You can build everything from a small sculpture, to a sauna, to a house, to a tower with it. You aren't confined to traditional building dimensions, and your building becomes an artform. The stone mason that helped lay the foundation for the studio said, "Throw away the tape measure. This is a sculpture!" I've seen some beautiful examples of cob structures, with dragons and all sorts of things sculpted into the walls.

 

We sifted our pile of subsoil through quarter-inch screens, mixed it with straw, and soaked it. Then we mixed with our bare feet, which tickled me at first, but getting muddy is fun. There are even fun mixing methods for cob. THere's the Cob Dance which is basically jumping around or dancing in the mud (preferably with a partner). There's what Deanne calls the Charlie Chaplain. It tickled my soles to jump around in the mud, but that just made me laugh! I hadn't played with mud in years! To think that for so long I was actually afraid to get myself muddy. But to mud is to connect intimately with the Earth (just as to MUD is to connect intimately with a world of fantasy). To build with cob is a creative, playful, spiritual, visionary experience, and I'm only beginning to discover that. I couldn't put it better than Deanne:

 

"The experience of completing the exterior walls of the strawbale studio, protecting the strawbales with a generous layer of earthen stucco, has evoked layers of feeling and ancient memory. There is an artistic thrill and wild freedom in shaping, smoothing, and building a rounded corner wall by pulling out handfulls of straw or pounding it with my fist. There is viscereal pleasure when the bare soles of my feet sink into the sand / mud mixture. Something wakes up! A billion more sensory cells are informing me! Laughter bubbles to the surface! Exploring materials... trying new combinations... this is a method of discovery that can be shared by the three-year old to the 103-year-old, by the inexperienced and experienced. We are all welcomed by this media, this setting, this process."

 

Amber and Gabe, Nikki, Adam and Lilly helped us do the mixing. I really got myself muddy and threw straw all over myself. I think it's hard to play with cob and not get playful. Nikki got some pictures of me covered in straw and MUD. She told me she could tell I've spent some time with children, and that I'm very good with them. I noticed the same thing with her, how she relates to her children. We talked about how people treat them as though they have nothing important to say, as if we have nothing to learn from them, as if they're not to be taken seriously. If anything we should listen more closely and patiently.

 

In the evening, an older man and woman visited the studio, shared dinner with us, and watched a video about strawbale. The man, Terry, is starting an Arboretum called Tall Trees in White Lake, and the woman is a biology professor at Oakland University. We had a nice dinner of vegetarian wraps, and some good leftover pie that Ronna sent us.

 

9/2/2005

 

Deanne and I usually have awesome conversations in the car. We both get into a zone in the car where ideas come to us so readily, and we're bouncing all sorts of ideas off each other, hopefully with a notebook so we can record them all. On the way to the crafts store in Rochester she shared with me her plans for a sustainability game, along the lines of Sim City, with a rough title "The Fair Share Game." I was really excited about this opportunity to integrate so many of my ideas into a single project! She thought I could be a great help, not only because I'm so interested and have ideas and background, but because I've played games like Civilization and Sim City. I told her how I've always learned most playing games and having fun, and she was excited about everything I said, urging me to write it down. She worked on the game with Nate Bixby, a Yale graduate who works at the Peabody Museum and founded the Network for a Sustainable New Haven. She suggested that maybe I could pursue Fair Share as a thesis if I decide to study religion, and gave me some ideas on how to make the argument that ecology is relevant to a theology degree. (To me, it's just common sense that ecology is relevant to everything.)

 

At the store I bought a pattern for a renaissance style shirt, some muslin, a leather cord, an eyelet kit, and some beautiful Celtic knot buttons! We were going to swim afterwards, but we got caught up doing other things, and preparing the studio for Chris McClellan, who came with his two kids, Jimmy and Sarah, to photograph the studio. They were coming from Ohio and spent the night.

 

I was bored most of the night, because he talked above my head, about things I didn't really understand. I felt uncomfortable around him at first, but he wasn't really condescending. It just took some time to get used to his personality. Still, how many times do I have to listen to people throwing around these jokes about liberal arts majors as though they're actually funny? He showed us some great pictures of naked people, quite explicit, totally covered in mud and looking like elves, having such fun. I want to do that!

 

9/3/2005

 

Sarah and I foraged some greens for our breakfast eggs, and some chokecherry we eventually realised that what we were calling chokecherry was more likely black cherry. I took a few pictures of her with her stick and basket. After Chris and his kids left, Deanne and I accomplished a lot! I showed her gmail and set her up with an online blog so she can take notes that way. A few days ago, we learned a lot about basic carpentry (or at least, how inefficiently something as simple as four pieces of wood in a rectangle can be put together!) Today we made a picnic table. Drill, nuts, bolts, screws, hammers, wrenches... I'm not good with tools... but we got the hang of it. It still alluded us how carpenters must perform these most basic tasks without being as clumsy as we were about it.

 

We gathered some staghorn sumac berries to make some sumac tea (which was delicious!) I worked on the herb chart, which is coming along well, and in the evening Chris, Sarah, and Jimmy unexpectedly showed up again to spend the night. Deanne was like a grandmother helping Sarah with some knitting and helping me with sewing prep. It was a fun night, and Sarah is a great girl. She's always joking, something she probably learned from her father. She told me, "Sorry, you don't get any ice cream." Then she held the ice cream out to me and said, "But you do get this!

 

9/9/2005

 

I haven't been so great about keeping a journal the last few days. I forget so much when I don't write, and what I do write ends up not being very interesting! A few days ago we set up a gazebo that we christened the Biergarten, and invited Carolyn Koch over for dinner, melted ice cream (freezer problems!) and beer. Carolyn is our German beer woman and does quite a good German accent. We spoke a little German, though their German was pretty basic, it was fun, and reminded me of good times in Deutschland. We started eating the melted ice cream, and kept eating it till it was near gone. I finally mentioned that, though it didn't seem like much, we basically slurped down two boxes of ice cream! A couple days later, Carolyn came over again, and though we were complaining we didn't have any real German beer, I looked in the cabinet and found some bottles of Beck! Rechtes Deutsches Bier! We watched a film about edible wild plants, ate pop corn, and drank warm Beck.

 

Yesterday Deanne and I drove up to Robin and Greg's farm in Columbiavilla for a discussion with some "Indian Saints." It was interesting, but some of them were a little bit... strong. We sat around the room and shared thoughts, reflections, and prayers, and in some ways it was very comforting, but also the discussion was narrow and directed in such a way that I didn't feel I could fully participate. Deanne got up the courage to ask a nagging question on both our minds: what is the gender of God? One woman gave an answer that sounded ridiculous to me: God is equally masculine and feminine, but we use "He" to refer to God, because if we started using "she," "people would get confused." Huh? Now that's confusing to me. What's worse: confusing people a little bit, and getting them to rethink a patriarchal language and culture, or accepting patriarchy because to do otherwise would 'confuse' people? Do we even question the use of "He" as a so-called gender-neutral pronoun?

 

I was silent throughout the Sangha, except for a short comment about God being a worm, so when it was over and I could share my true feelings in a more comfortable atmosphere, I did. It seems to me that talks of interfaith understanding and dialogue apply to all the world religions, but paganism, that's "something else." I'm not sure if it's ignored, rejected, or just totally overlooked because people don't realise it's an issue, but feeling overlooked, as though you always have to play on someone else's field (have to say 'God' and never "Goddess') can *feel* like intolerance.

 

We shared some absolutely delicious Indian food, and I was immediately drawn to a happy, pleasant fellow, Mandal Ji. He took himself so unseriously in such a delightful way. He's always laughing and joking and said he has to laugh once every 15 minutes or something's wrong -- sometimes he would set an alarm to make sure he laughed. He had me bursting with laughter a few times myself.

 

On the drive home, Deanne and I talked about so many things. Telekinesis. The significance of the fairy tale Hansel and Gretel to my life (it's always been my favourite fairy tale, and I've found myself having magical dreams about it, not so much fearful as mysterious and exciting). We talked about Martin Buber, who she read in an "experimental religion" class in college. I mentioned Thich Nhat Hanh, and she had read him too! I told her I have one of his books that I read over and over because his words are so comforting to me. She had also read Politics of Experience by R.D. Laing. She once asked me to prove that I'm only 22 years old, and I asked her, "Why would I lie about my age?" She said, "Oh, I don't know, so you could pretend to be some sort of child genius." I appreciated the compliment even though I believe strongly that genius is something common to every one of us.

 

 

 

 

 

Guardian Building

Graffiti

Downtown Detroit = Downtown Worcester

exploring bus routes

vacant lots

so many physical types are attractive to me, just as every place and city.. .even detroit... has its own unique charm.

Indian restaurant with D. G. and V.

---

October 21, 2005

 

 

I keep imagining my time here in Michigan as marked by signs: "Warning: Last Chance to Turn Back," because every day I spend here, it becomes more and more obvious that the lens through which I'm looking through the world is changing. I've been consistently exposed to healing, nurturing, and life-affirming situations and exciting ideas that help me see myself and the world in a much healthier way. Old habits and patterns and fears and neuroses are fading. I am becoming more myself. I am coming to know myself better than ever before.

 

Last weekend I attended the Great Lakes Bioneers rgional conference in Detroit (for which I was lucky enough to receive a scholarship!) It was overwhelming in a wonderful way. Even that single weekend must have changed my relationship with life in a subtle but profound way. I can't describe its awesomeness, but I am going to try to drag a few friends there next year, for sure! I met so many interesting people who care about the same things I do. I met Catholic nuns from the Mother House in Monroe (Sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary) who are totally into ecology and sustainability and even goddess and the divine feminine. I feel excited and inspired to find so many Catholics who are spiritually inspired and invigorated by the same ideas and writers as I am. They were very helpful to me in recommending books on eco-theology (including Thomas Berry, and a lot of people I've never heard of.) I bought two books at Bioneers -- one was "Dreaming the Council Ways: True Native Teachings from the Red Lodge," by Ohky Simine Forest, one of Sunday's plenary presenters. The other was: "Mindfulness and Meaningful Work: Explorations into Right Livelihood," which looks like it was written just for me, with essays by Joanna Macy, Rick Fields, E.F. Schumacher, Thich Nhat Hanh, and a lot of others I've never heard of. I'm really excited about that one! It's so joyful to be inspired towards truly exciting and meaningful work, and it's so painful to see people settling and not even considering that this is possible...

 

Bioneers opened me up to many amazing things going on in Detroit that most people probably have no clue about. There's the Avalon Bakery, which sells delicious organic breads. The Spiral Collective is a collection of women-owned businesses, including Source Booksellers, who sold the books at Bioneers. The woman who runs that place is great and I was very happy to support her. There's a place called Back Alley Bikes, a non-profit co-op bicycle shop, which empowers kids and adults to fix their own bikes, and gives bikes in exchange for volunteer time. They also rent out bikes to anyone who needs one -- free -- all you need is a deposit, so if you're ever in Detroit and need a bike, remember that. There are other things, but I'm too overwhelmed with it all to recall now. I am learning to love Detroit. Teresa, a woman who lived in Detroit, and now lives in Ann Arbor, told me how much she missed Detroit. I asked her what she missed. She said mostly it was the people, how it didn't matter who you were, people would greet you in a friendly way like they actually wanted to get to know you. People in Ann Arbor (and I've noticed this) seem more private. The only time anyone acknowledged me on the street in Ann Arbor was to ask for directions. But in Detroit people will wave and ask you how you're doing even from the other side of the street!

 

On Friday morning I went on a tour of urban gardens in Detroit. I enjoyed seeing the many exciting projects going on: people using the land to grow healthy food and build community. One of my favourite phrases is Food Not Lawns because I have no idea why people would prefer to grow cultivated grass to gardens, or even why people would prefer grass to dandelions and chickory and lamb's quarters. So many people are starving in the world, and we choose to cover the precious land with something that has practically no food or medicinal value! What craziness! On Saturday morning I went to Jim's workshop, "Herban Sprawl" (he's really into puns so the title was typical Jim.) We talked about medicinal uses of dandelion, plantain, chickweed, and violet. He gave us handouts with some really great information and recommendations for all sorts of herbalism books and websites. After that I went to Peter McCreedy's workshop on teaching with the outdoors. He showed us all sorts of many things he's done with his students to connect them with the natural world. He talked a lot about food, because he loves to eat -- they made mud stoves, decorated them, and cooked pizzas in them, which they covered in wild edibles. He says that if kids can see where food comes from and pick it themselves, they'll eat anything. This is art and science and health education (and more, I'm sure) in one project. He also talked about making lacrosse sticks and playing games of lacrosse, making Native American weapons, and all sorts of things that connect kids with the world around them in a new way. On Sunday morning I went to Theater of the Oppressed, a theater workshop based on the work of Augusto Baol, which I had been really looking forward to, but I was a little disappointed. I also went to a workshop on ecological justice where we saw maps of Southeast Michigan showing the connections between race, wealth, placement of incinerators, air pollution, and cancer. It's really scary -- there's a direct correlation between all of those things. Cancer rates are much higher where the air is most polluted where people are black and poor (where they put in incinerators)...

 

Each day in the afternoon were the plenary sessions, live feeds from the main Bioneers conference in California. They were phenomenal. I took lots of notes, and hopefully I'll find time to organise them and write about the billions of things I learned, but for now I'll just say... wow. The conference filled me with joy and celebration for the beautiful Earth we're a part of, and it filled me with pain, compassion, and anger for the insanity we inflict on the world and on ourselves in stupidity and ignorance. There were times I wanted to jump out of my chair and scream: "What the hell are you doing to our beautiful planet!" David Orr especially brought a lot of people to tears and I was pretty close myself. But even the pain makes me feel alive. It's something that happens naturally when you love something, and as I think Joanna Macy says, something would be wrong if it didn't hurt. I wrote something recently about how we avoid pain because we don't have proper rituals or know how to share it, purge it, or diffuse it in a healthy way. If we knew how to share it, how to participate in healthy ritualistic cleansing, we'd see it as a blessing, something that contributes to our humanity, and brings us together. So wen I feel this pain, it makes me feel good, because it means I love. It's not uncomfortable and I don't wish for it to pass. It's nothing like despair. Pain and alienation are two different things. Alienation is hell. Pain... compassion ("feeling pain with")... is a blessing.

 

This weekend I started working on a building project, a kids playhouse... not totally natural, but with some natural techniques like strawbale, cob, wattle and daub, for the Oakland Steiner School in Rochester. When men with power tools talk about Tai Chi and Reiki and meeting wood nymphs, play\ classical and Celtic music on the radio at the works site, and jump around ecstatically when I mention the awesomeness that is Great Big Sea, what planet am I on? Certainly not the one I've been used to! I mentioned Great Big Sea to Lance (who's leading the project) and he jumped around declaring that they're his favourite band in the world. So on Saturday he brought his Great Big Sea stuff and we listened to them while we worked. *Jumps excitedly and sings* Michael, who was the one that talked about healing and wood nymphs, also talked about Osho (whose book, "On Intimacy," I bought at Crazy Wisdom). Michael actually had an Osho tape with him and gave it to me to listen to or make a copy of it. Everyone was really amazed that I rode my bike to the project on Friday (about 20 miles, but it was fun for me, and I got a ride back afterwards.) So far we've been working mostly on the timber framing. I learned a bit about setting up and leveling posts, but for the most part, it's still a mystery to me. I was thinking briefly about the possibility of applying to Cranbrook to study architecture, since Ed Liang told me about all the fun he's been having there... but Lance tells me architecture really has nothing to do with what I'd be doing as a natural builder. He says architecture is about making people feel they're not qualified to build for themselves (and building is so instinctual to us... it's just that eventually we're conditioned to believe we need professionals to do it.) One of the workers said something like, "The word architect didn't even enter the English lexicon until around the 1920's and that's when everything went to hell." There are so many related books I'm looking forward to reading: Mortgage Free (yay!) and Stone Circles by Rob Roy. The Art of Natural Building edited by Joseph Kennedy, Michael Smith, Catherine Wanek... and I'm not sure I mentioned this, but Deanne gave me a copy of the Hand Sculpted House book she illustrated -- an awesome book -- $35 face value.

 

On Saturday night I went to Deanne's Gaia concert at McKenzie Hall in Windsor. The music celebrated the Earth and especially the Ojibway Nature Center, one of the few examples of midwestern tall-grasds prairie that hasn't been destroyed. The park contains many species that are endangered and found nowhere else in Ontario, and yet, they're planning to run a new highway right through it. For some reason the government seems to be keeping people quiet about it. The people at Ojibway are not allowed to talk about the plans. The women weren't allowed to talk about protest or the proposded highway construction at the concert (even though one women, the one who told the others they weren't allowed to talk about protest, did let the word slip through her lips!) I don't really understand the politics of it, but something's happened to freedom of speech! I'd come all the way back to Windsor to disrupt the highway construction if they do go through with the plans... Species, as Thomas Berry says, are Divine modalities. When we destroy a species we are destroying a voice of the Divine, a voice that will never return... voices like the passenger pigeon... How could anyone even think about building a highway through such a place? (Mayor of Windsor: 1-519-255-6315).

 

It became a really long night. After finally getting through customs (lots of traffic), we went looking for the house of a woman who had Deanne's cell phone (which she left at the UU church in Detroit last weekend). We spent a couple hours lost around Corktown, and then found ourselves lost in a desolate factory area by the Rouge River! We had some not-too-great Mexican food while we were in Mexicantown, and listened to the Osho tape on the drive back.

 

......

 

The first time I went to the Oakland Steiner School, to check out the site, I found the children adorable, and watched their teacher take them on a walk into the "magical woods." on the one hand I was delighted to be there, to see the children so happy, the teachers so caring. But I also started feeling very angry about *my* education. School wasd alwaysd an obsticle to my thriving as a person. My elementary school teachers were totally clueless about what was good for me (and probably couldn't have done anything about it, if they did know). School messed me up. It always got in the way of exactly what I'm doing right now -- living life, learning, thriving, and loving it -- school seduced me away from myself and never let me explore my true nature. I am so angry and resentful about my school experience. After visiting the Oakland Steiner School I started questioning whether I really want to be at Harvard next semester. More traditional education? Is that massochism? Is it habit, conditioning? Or might it be good for me?

 

I'm also applying to a very flexible independent study masters program at Lesley University (which, honestly a complete coincidence, is also in Cambridge, and practically blends into the Harvard campus). Until recently I've been less enthusiastic about Lesley, simply because my grandfather would be happy to pay my tuition for Harvard, but Lesley would be more difficult to afford. But now I'm much more excited about Lesley...

 

... A girl named Grace came to hang out with us for a few days. We had fun sifting and mixing cob, sculpting designs on the cob wall in the house (she sculpted some beautiful vines and such, and I sculpted a tai-chi which turns into a snake). We made apple butter and tied smudge sticks and made battered eggplant and squash with pasta together. She inspired the first few lines of my purpose statement for Lesley:

 

"Sometimes I think the course of my life would have been very different were it not for an intricate web of seemingly insignificant, but delicately connected, factors that brought me to where I am today: at this moment, writing a purpose statement for admissions to Lesley University. Just one example: The last three days I have been working with Grace, a young woman who shared her experiences as a student at the Audubon Expedition Institute, which I had never heard of. While she was enjoying a book at the table behind me, and I was on the computer researching Lesley's offerings, I was amazed to stumble upon those very words -- Audubon Expedition Institute -- associated with Lesley University. This confirmed for me that Lesley may offer me the perfect opportunity to pursue my particular interests. How many factors had to go right to lead me to my encounter with Grace? How many factors, including this encounter, had to go right to lead me to writing this application or Lesley University? When I think about how grateful I am for the way" my life has gone, I consider also the delicate nature of the web that brought me here. That, certainly, is grace.

 

 

---

 

 

 

 

 

I'm involved in a natural building project: a children's playhouse on site at the Rochester Steiner School. When I visited the school a couple weeks ago, I found the children adorable, and I watched their teacher take them on a Walk into the "magical woods." On the one hand I was delighted to be there, to see the children so happy, the teachers so perceptive. But I also started feeling very angry about *my* education. School was always an *obsticle* to my thriving as a person. School messed me up. It always got in the way of exactly what I'm doing right now -- living life, learning, and loving it -- and it never allowed me to explore my true nature. I am so angry and resentful about my experience in school -- I have so much to purge! I started questioning whether I really want to be at Harvard next September. Is that massochism? Is it conditioning? Would Harvard be more of the same?

 

I'm also applying to a very flexible independent study masters program at Lesley University (which, honestly a complete coincidence, is also in Cambridge, and practically blends into the Harvard campus). Until recently I've been less enthusiastic about Lesley simply because I'm less likely to be able to afford it. (My grandfather will pay my tuition for Harvard. I'm not so sure about Lesley). A girl named Grace came and played with us for a few days, and shared her experiences as a student at the Audubon Expedition Institute -- they live outside! While she was behind me enjoying a book (Ishmael, actually!) and I was on the computer researching Lesley's offerings, I was amazed to stumble upon those very words: "Audubon Expedition Institute." It's affiliated with Lesley! So I decided I'm going to apply to both programs and spend the next few months figuring out which will be best for me.

 

We cobbed one of the walls. I sculpted a yin-yang that turns into a snake, and Grace sculpted all sorts of vines, curves, etc... We made smudge sticks and apple butter.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

 

 

 

This weekend I started working on a project building a kids playhouse for the Oakland Steiner School in Rochester. People were pretty amazed on Friday that I biked all the way there (about 20 miles). It wasn't your typical building project: men with powertools talking about tai chi and reiki and meeting wood nymphs.

\

I'm continuing to have a great time in Michigan, though sometimes I wish I could be both here and home, and have the best of both worlds. Been feeling a lot of joy, and pain too, connecting with horrible things that happen in the world. I felt it about the plight of the bald eagle and other endangered species and the proposed highway in Windsor cutting through Ojibway Nature Center (one of the few examples of midwestern tall-grass prairie that hasn't been destroyed, with many species that are found nowhere else in Ontario). Species, as Thomas Berry says, are Divine modalities. Every species is a different way in which the Divine speaks to us, and in which we can experience the Divine. Destroying diversity on our Earth destroys the very voice of the Divine.) I felt it when I looked at an Amnesty International advertisement showing a woman in China screaming before being executed. I'm able to feel the pain yet distance myself from it, I think. It moves through me. I can feel a lot of pain and be very happy a couple minutes later. The pain isn't a bad thing. It feels good to care. It would be a bad thing if I didn't feel it. It's just what happens naturally when you love something. Pain and alienation are two different things... I think a lot of times I've felt both at the same time... and it's alienation that really hurts... not pain itself.

 

 

 

• Lance playing Great Big Sea.
• Where else will you find guys with power tools talking about tai chi, reiki, and wood nymphs! He gave me an Osho tape which Deanne and I listened to on the ride home.
• Ojibway!

 

 

 

More has happened than I can write about, but I'll try to describe briefly what's been going on around here.

 

I'm involved in a natural building project: a children's playhouse on site at the Rochester Steiner School. When I visited the school a couple weeks ago, I found the children adorable, and I watched their teacher take them on a Walk into the "magical woods." On the one hand I was delighted to be there, to see the children so happy, the teachers so perceptive. But I also started feeling very angry about *my* education. School was always an *obsticle* to my thriving as a person. School messed me up. It always got in the way of exactly what I'm doing right now -- living life, learning, and loving it -- and it never allowed me to explore my true nature. I am so angry and resentful about my experience in school -- I have so much to purge! I started questioning whether I really want to be at Harvard next September. Is that massochism? Is it conditioning? Would Harvard be more of the same?

 

I'm also applying to a very flexible independent study masters program at Lesley University (which, honestly a complete coincidence, is also in Cambridge, and practically blends into the Harvard campus). Until recently I've been less enthusiastic about Lesley simply because I'm less likely to be able to afford it. (My grandfather will pay my tuition for Harvard. I'm not so sure about Lesley). A girl named Grace came and played with us for a few days, and shared her experiences as a student at the Audubon Expedition Institute -- they live outside! While she was behind me enjoying a book (Ishmael, actually!) and I was on the computer researching Lesley's offerings, I was amazed to stumble upon those very words: "Audubon Expedition Institute." It's affiliated with Lesley! So I decided I'm going to apply to both programs and spend the next few months figuring out which will be best for me.

 

We cobbed one of the walls. I sculpted a yin-yang that turns into a snake, and Grace sculpted all sorts of vines, curves, etc... We made smudge sticks and apple butter.

 

Bioneers was amazing!

 

Great Big Sea! Lance...

 

---

Parting thoughts from Jason Howard (needs editing, but you can get the idea)

I'm heading back to Massachusetts tomorrow. The reality of this has just begun to hit me over the past few days. Terry told me, "You have to come back. You have family here now." Everyone has been so kind and generous. I was especially moved this evening when Chris Tarr and her husband came over for dinner just to bid me farewell. Chris presented me with copy of Ken Wilber's book, The Simple Feeling of Being. I love when people give me things that remind me of them, and Chris is a big Ken Wilber fan. She signed, "Jason, It's been a pleasure having you as part of our community. Warm wishes to you on your further travels. May you continue to stay connected to the path of your heart. Many blessings, Chris." Jill gave me a copy of Joanna Macy's Coming Back to Life: Practices to Reconnect Our Lives, Our World. She signed it, "Jason -- please return to us soon -- Jill 11/05 Enjoy!" I didn't expect any of this but it just reminds me how special this community is and how much I'll miss it (at least until I return). Jim even asked me if I was planning to move out to Michigan... and even thinking about that, I start to pine for New England... but Terry did offer me a spot on his 150 acre property in White Lake, and I'd love to build a cob cottage there (so if anyone wants to help...!) I gave Deanne my copy of Reinvention of Work with the inscription: "To Deanne, May your work be joyful, creative, and fulfilling. If the answer isn't in this book, remember: duct tape, in the car, and Peter McCreedy." (One of our jokes is that any question we ask can be answered with one of those three responses.) A while ago Deanne gave me a copy of one of the books she illustrated, The Hand-Sculpted House, which is both philosophical and practical, and talks a lot about the creative and healing aspects of natural building. I'm really looking forward to reading it. Tonight she inscribed it for me: "Dear Jason, To so many experiences... from foraging and the Renaissance Festival to websites and fences. Thanks for all the help and support in so many ways. Remember... the answer is 'in the car,' 'Peter McCreedy,' or 'duct tape' crossed out 'Cob!' The best to you and from you as you explore and contribute to this fine world. Warmly, Deanne 11/20/04" (wrong year, but that's okay!)

 

Three months. The longest I've ever lived away from home. So many experiences, so many people, so many things to explore and reflect upon. (I wrote this before I read Deanne's inscription). I'm sure I will come back to Michigan, and though I'm not sure when yet, I told Jim I'd really try to be here in May for the herbal retreat weekend he's hosting with herbalist Matt Wood. There are so many things I didn't get a chance to do, like visiting the Upland Hills School, and hanging out with the Detroit anarchists. I've had mixed feelings about the transition, and in some respects I've been lost in my own world the last couple weeks, but nothing could have marked this transition better than a sweat lodge with Jorge on my last day in Michigan. It was incredible and beyond words, as it always is, and I came out feeling so renewed. Those wonderful chants: "We are a circle within a circle, with no beginning and never ending..." Jorge asked us to reflect on this chant. Why? He said, "Because are never truly born, and we never truly die." I definitely needed that sweat... I know it's done a lot of good for me.

 

I spent the last couple weekends with a great group of people experiencing great food, community, and pyromania. Our Ann Arbor Natural Building and Community group (and a few others) got together this weekend to work on the first part of a rocket stove bench. That's something I'll miss... where else do you find a group of people like this? Dave played some Irish jigs on his flute and I accompanied him on drum. The flute feels like the instrument of my soul, and drumming feels like an exercise in letting go of inhibitions and playing my intuitive rhythms unabashedly. Playing the drum helps me observe my inner state. Dave had a number of flutes and whistles with him (reminding me, I need to learn to play my tin penny whistle!) He has the same whistle, actually, and it sounded really good. He said he has an introspective flute. When questioned he said a flute or any object has a personality and identity at least as valid as those we create for ourselves... something to think about. There was a Boston connection the past couple weekends, which is nice, since I plan to spend more time there when I get back home. Dave studied architecture at MIT, and Lance studied film scoring at Berklee. Lance recommended the Border Cafe. Dave suggested a way to get past long lines at Durgin Park (through the bar), recommended the glass flower collection at Harvard, and shared some Cambridge jokes. He told a story about buying 50 pounds of onions at Quincy Market and winning two stuffed animals at a carnival. His girlfriend and her friend were living together at the time. He thought he'd send the smaller of the two to his girlfriend's friend, and surprise his girlfriend with the bigger one when they saw each other in person. Around the same time he sent out that teddy bear, he also sent a package out to his girlfriend, containing a onion. Neither of them knew what to make of the girlfriend getting the onion and the girlfriend's friend getting a stuffed animal! He finally explained what happened, but it took her a while to forgive him!

 

 

Last was a mixed weekend, with its very fulfilling moments, as well as moments when I wanted to walk off alone and cry (though I couldn't shed a tear). I can cry when something touches me deeply, but there are times when I feel pretty miserable for no apparent reason, and crying would just feel *good*. I think that's where the impulse to self-sabotage can come itno play: if things were a little worse, I could cry, and then I'd start to feel better. But when I feel miserable (but not miserable enough to cry) it's pretty easy to continue feeling miserable. Partly it's stress and uncertainty about coming home. Partly it's disappointment and frustration at the fact that my digital camera is totally unreliable and I can take a hundred and fifty great pictures only to lose them with some kind of "disk error." Part of it's also that I didn't understand part of the project we were working on, and I started to feel stupid. I started tuning out to the point where I didn't have the energy to pay attention to the plain English sentences people were speaking. My mind has been wandering a lot, so I've been very forgetful, and I haven't been paying the best attention. I've been feeling awkward and incompetent and more worried about what other people think of me. I need to remember a few things that I can do when I feel like this: Rescue Remedy and Kava Kava. At dinner last Sunday night we were discussing the politics of food (which, believe me, can get really intense). Others were also getting upset about it so I offered some of my Rescue Remedy. I still don't know if that stuff works but it seemed to help. Kava Kava, though, it works right away! I've been taking it the last few days in a glass of water and it's so relaxing. I'm sure there's more I'll want to write about herbs later... especially cayenne pepper!

 

 

 

Last weekend I cobbed and cooked with Cori Rose, whose music I adore, and whose album I enjoy more every time I listen to it. Tonight I heard her sing, Rumi's Field, one of my favourite songs from her album. Cooking for so many people in such a small space was stressful, but she was very good at helping me prepare my dish (tempeh, onion, carrots, broccoli, with curry, oregano, and lots of tamari). It came out well though, and Dagny told me later how much she enjoyed it. In the evening I sat out at a campfire with Terry and Dave, ate a year's supply of s'mores, and had some really good conversation. We talked about relationships, and we talked about the dominant culture. We asked ourselves why so many people continue to consume as they do despite the correlation between consumption and unhappiness. I suggested that people just don't have any idea what possibilities are open to them. They think they have to sink or swim in the mainstream culture, and find a way to make it work, even though there really isn't one. Why is it so hard to find people like me who find joy in the simplest things like a hammock and a gnarled tree on a breezy autumn day or a cuddle or a thoughtful letter in the mail? It shouldn't be so easy to feel lonely, but it is.

 

I was falling in love with Briar Rose, Heather's six month old girl, and I loved holding her and bouncing her. I mentioned that in some indigenous cultures babies are never untouched until the moment they start to crawl. Terry asked, "What cultures?" I said, "Some indigenous cultures." They he said, "Oh, I know some Ann Arbor indigenous cultures like that." I guess you had to be there... We had such fun cobbing today. I was laughing so much while we were throwing a cob line (we make little mud balls and transport it by tossing it to each other). I asked Terry to throw me a long one, and I assumed he'd be nice and find a light one, but he threw me this monster ball (some of which splatted in front of me). Then we started tossing them really fast to see what kind of tempo we could get. There's nothing quite like throwing balls of mud!

 

I'm still working on hand-sewing my shirt, though I'm almost done, and I'm working on the button holes! Deanne took me to dinner in Lake Orion the other night (and in the afternoon, to It's a Matter of Taste in Commerce, for a delicious slice of pumpkin pie and a chocolate chip and pecan cookie). I also enjoyed walking at Proud Lake, just before dusk on a cool and windy day, and I wished I were out there telling ghost stories. I loved standing on the bridge and looking out onto the Huron River. Last night Jill gave me a copy of Joanna Macy's book, Coming Back to Life: Practices to Reconnect Our Lives, Our World. She signed it, "Jason -- please return to us soon -- Jill 11/05 Enjoy!" A while ago Deanne gave me a copy of The Hand-Sculpted House, which she illustrated, and I can't wait to read it. She's trying to think of an inscription now. From what I've read, it's such a fascinating book, so practical and fun, and it talks about the creative and healing aspects of natural building. I gave her my copy of Reinvention of Work with the inscription: "To Deanne, May your work be joyful, creative, and fulfilling. If the answer isn't in this book, remember: duct tape, in the car, and Peter McCreedy." (One of our jokes is that any question we ask can be answered with either "duct tape," "in the car," or "Peter McCreedy.") Today some people at our rocket stove community building weekend seemed shocked to hear I was leaving so soon. Terry said, "You have to come back. You have family here now." He said there's a place for me at his 150 acre property in White Lake (so if anyone wants to help me build a cottage...!)

 

This morning (?) I asked Dave how he slept and he said he spent a lot of time sitting awake thinking. He mentioned Huston Smith who met a swami that claimed that our dreamless sleep are moments of most blissful awareness, without which, we couldn't make it through the day. So we started talking about awareness, and how to practice it, and how (and if) we can know we're succeeding. He mentioned that the Basques or some culture has words for many more senses than the five our culture acknowledges. We thought it would be nice to know what they are... having words for it might expand our awareness. While we were talking, Linda saw my t-shirt (which says INFP Healer Idealist) and said that she's an INFP too. Then Dave said he's also an INFP. I was surprised, simply because it's rare to encounter so many INFPs, but in this group I shouldn't be surprised. If my ability to do statistics math is anything near accurate, the odds of picking out three INFPs randomly from the population is about one in a million.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last night Jill gave me a copy of Joanna Macy's book, Coming Back to Life: Practices to Reconnect Our Lives, Our World. She signed it, "Jason -- please return to us soon -- Jill 11/05 Enjoy!" A while ago Deanne gave me a copy of The Hand-Sculpted House, which she illustrated, and I can't wait to read it. She's trying to think of an inscription now. From what I've read, it's such a fascinating book, so practical and fun, and it talks about the creative and healing aspects of natural building. I gave her my copy of Reinvention of Work with the inscription: "To Deanne, May your work be joyful, creative, and fulfilling. If the answer isn't in this book, remember: duct tape, in the car, and Peter McCreedy." (One of our jokes is that any question we ask can be answered with either "duct tape," "in the car," or "Peter McCreedy.") Today some people at our rocket stove community building weekend seemed shocked to hear I was leaving so soon. Terry said, "You have to come back. You have family here now." He said there's a place for me at his 150 acre property in White Lake (so if anyone wants to help me build a cottage...!) Cori Rose told me there's a sweat lodge tomorrow. My last day in Michigan. She offered to take me there. I thought it would be a perfect cleansing, healing transition back to Massachusetts. I need to sweat.

 

Last was a mixed weekend, with its very fulfilling moments, as well as moments when I wanted to walk off alone and cry (though I couldn't shed a tear). I can cry when something touches me deeply, but there are times when I feel pretty miserable for no obvious reason, and crying would just feel good. I think that's where the impulse to self-sabotage can come into play: if things were a little worse, I could cry, and then I'd start to feel better. But when I feel miserable (but not miserable enough to cry) it's pretty easy to continue feeling miserable. Partly I'm sure it's stress and uncertainty about coming back to Massachusetts. I have no idea what life has in store for me back home. Part of it was disappointment and frustration at the fact that my digital camera is totally unreliable and I can take a hundred and fifty great pictures only to lose them with some kind of "disk error." I also started to feel stupid when I didn't understand part of the project we were working on. I started to tune out to the point where I didn't have the energy to pay attention to the plain English sentences people were speaking. My mind has been wandering a lot so I've been very forgetful and haven't been paying the best attention. I've been feeling awkward and inadequate. At dinner Sunday night we were discussing the politics of food (which can be a really intense subject... it *almost* made me cry). I asked, "Where's the revolution?" Others were also getting upset about it. I decided to offer some of my rescue remedy. I rarely remember to take it when I need it! Also I've been taking Kava Kava extract lately and it's so relaxing! I need to remember to take that when I'm stressed. So much better than the capsules.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'm thinking that if I study at Lesley, my degree will be something along the lines of Ecology and Healing, and as part of the program I'll write a book and organise workshops and summer camp activities. I have all sorts of ideas. I want to study herbs and drumming and counseling and people like Thich Nhat Hanh and Krishnamurti and David Orr and healthy ritual and community building and reinvention of work. Today I got an inkling of how natural building might be integrated into a healing workshop or summer camp. Even just mixing the cob and throwing a cob line (transporting mud by throwing balls or 'loaves' from one person to the next) elicited so much laughter.

 

Today I got a new sense of how Natural Building could be integrated into community building and healing exercises: simply mixing the cob and

 

Deanne took me out for dinner a couple nights ago in Lake Orion (and earlier in the afternoon, she took me to It's a Matter of Taste in Commerce, where I had a slice of delicious pumpkin pie and we shared a chocolate chip and pecan cookie). Last night, Jill offered to mail some of my books home for me, and gave me a copy of her Joanna Macy book, Coming Back to Life: Practices to Reconnect Our Lives, Our World. She signed it, "Jason -- please return to us soon -- Jill 11/05 Enjoy!" Deanne gave me a copy of The Hand-Sculpted House, which she illustrated, and I can't wait to read it -- such a fascinating book. I decided to give her my copy of Reinvention of Work with the inscription: "To Deanne, May your work be joyful, creative, and fulfilling. If the answer isn't in this book, remember: duct tape, in the car, and Peter McCreedy." (One of our jokes is that any question can be answered with either "duct tape," "in the car," or "Peter McCreedy."). I'm not sure when I'll be coming back, but I've been thinking about returning around May, when Jim will be hosting an herbal retreat weekend with a famous herbalist.

 

Last was a mixed weekend, with its very fulfilling moments, as well as moments when I wanted to walk off alone and cry (though I couldn't shed a tear). I can cry when something touches me deeply, but there are times when I feel pretty miserable for no obvious reason, and crying would just feel good. I think that's where the impulse to self-sabotage can come into play: if things were a little worse, I could cry, and then I'd start to feel better. But when I feel miserable (but not miserable enough to cry) it's pretty easy to continue feeling miserable. Part of it was probably stress and uncertainty about my transition back to Massachusetts. Part of it was disappointment and frustration at the fact that my digital camera is totally unreliable and I can take a hundred and fifty great pictures only to lose them with some kind of 'disk error.' I also started to feel stupid when I didn't understand part of the project we were working on. I started to tune out to the point where I didn't have the energy to pay attention to the plain English sentences people were speaking. At dinner we were discussing the politics of food (which can be a really intense subject, and it *almost* made me cry), and since other also seemed to be getting bent out of shape, I decided to offer them some of my Rescue Remedy. I should have remembered to take it sooner. When I feel this way I need to remember Rescue Remedy and Kava Kava as options!

 

I actually spent the weekend with a great group of people experiencing community and pyromania. Our Ann Arbor Natural Building and Community group (and a few others) got together this weekend to work on the first part of a rocket stove bench. Everyone brought good food, we played music, and had a good time connecting. Dave played some Irish jigs on his flute, and I accompanied him on drum. The flute feels like the instrument of my soul, and drumming feels like an exercise in letting go of inhibitions and playing my intuitive rhythms unabashedly. It helps me observe my inner state. Dave had a number of flutes and whistles with him (reminding me, I need to learn to play my tin whistle!) and said he had an introspective flute. Dave is a really comfortable and fun person to be around. There was a Boston connection this weekend -- Dave studied architecture at MIT, and Lance studied film scoring at Berklee. Lance recommended Border Cafe in Cambridge. Lance recommended the Border Cafe. Dave recommended a way to get past long lines at Durgin Park (through the bar), the glass flowers collection at Harvard, and these small theatres in Harvard Square which he said may well be gone now. He said there used to be little comments for each floor in the elevator, and for the fifth floor, it said: "If you lived here, you'd be home now."

 

I cobbed and cooked with Cori Rose, whose music I adore, and whose album I enjoy more every time I listen to it. Cooking for so many people in such a small space was stressful, but Cori Rose was very helpful in helping me prepare my dish (tempeh, onion, carrots, broccoli, with curry, oregano, and lots of tamari). It came out well though, and Dagny told me later how much she enjoyed it. In the evening I sat out at a campfire with Terry and Dave, ate s'mores, and had some really good conversation. We talked about relationships, and we talked about mainstream culture.

 

I cobbed and cooked with Cori Rose, whose music I adore, and whose album I enjoy more every time I listen to it. The cooking as stressful (

I cobbed and cooked with Cori Rose, whose music I adore, an whose album I love more every time I listen to it. The cooking was stressful (cooking for so many people in such a small space) but Cori Rose was very helpful in helping me prepare my dish (a stir fry of tempeh, onion, carrots, broccoli, with curry, oregano, and lots of tamari). I thought I was incompetent cooking for large groups of people but Dagny tld me how delicious it was when she saw me later that night. On Saturday evening I sat out at the fire with Terry and Dave and we had some really good conversation

 

It was a mixed weekend, with its very fulfilling moments, as well as moments when I wanted to walk off alone and cry. I wish crying were easier for me. I can shed a few tears when something touches me deeply, and there was a time when I would cry every day in the shower, but there are times when I feel pretty miserable for no apparent reason and crying would feel good. I think that's where the impulse to self-sabotage can come into play: if things were a little bit worse I could cry, and then I would feel bf I coud find myself in despair, and completely surrender, I'd come to that moment where I could see hope at the other end, and that would feel good. But when I feel miserable, yet not miserable enough to cry, it's pretty easy to continue feeling miserable. Most of the day I felt really "outside myself," tuned out from everything going on in the world around me, my brain processing everything *very* slowly (it took so much energy to understand every sentence uttered that eventually I tuned out completely, and felt worse because I assumed people thought I was stupid.) It's almost like what I felt in Ireland in December. I think shedding some tears could have rejuvinated me, but as I said, I didn't know how. How do you go about learning how to cry? At dinner we were discussing the politics of food (believe me, it can be a really intense subject, and it almost made me cry), and since others also seemed to be getting be nt out of shape, I decided to offer them some of my Rescue Remedy. I should have taken some earlier. I don't feel good, but I feel better, more grounded in my body, and of a better state of mind.

 

I really did spend the weekend with a wonderfully pleasant group of people experiencing community and pyromania. Our Ann Arbor Natural Building and Community group (as well as a few others) worked on the first part of a rocket stove bench, ate a lot of food, played music, and connected. Some people started to arrive on Friday night. Terry (who I've known for a while) came and talked about how he always felt most at home at the Wayne State communes. Later, Dave, Mike, and Dagne arrived. Dave played some Irish jigs on his flute and I accompanied him on drum. I came to the realisation that the flute is the instrument of my soul, and playing the drum, I felt the same inner tension I sometimes feel when I start to dance. It's an exercise in letting go of fear and playing the rhythm you feel inside... and at least for me, it helped me observe my inner state, and the conflicts going on inside me. Dave had a number of fluts and whistles with him, which reminded me, I need to learn to play my tin whistle! He said he had an introspective flute... that a flute, or any object, has an identity at least as valid as those we create for ourselves... and that, indeed, a flute can be introspective. Dave is a really comfortable and interesting person and it's a lot of fun spending time with him.

 

I helped with dinner on Saturday: I prepared some quinoa and a stir fry of onion, carrots, broccoli, tempeh, with some curry, oregano, and lots of tamar i. It was stressful helping to cook for so many people in such a small space, but Dagny complimented me later that night, telling me how much she enjoyed it. Cori Rose was there, being extremely nice and helpful. She's really the sort of person I'd expect her to be after listening to her beautiful music -- hers has become one of my favourite CD's, and she reminds me of Richard Shindell somehow. "

 

In the evening when Mike was heading out to the store I requested he pick me up a bar of chocolate.

 

Terry, Dave, and I sat out by the fire and had a really good discussion aboout things...

 

 

massmees.org

 

 

In Michigan you can find all sorts of interesting things going on by looking at the Crazy Wisdom newsletter... I don't know if there's an equivalent.

 

 

On Friday night people started to arrive. Terry came and revealed himself as an old hippie who always felt most at home at the Wayne State communes... he says smoking marijuana and communing with the trees is a daily experience for him (he's the one starting the arboretum eco-center in White Lake). Later Dave, Mike, and Dagne arrived. Dave played some Irish jigs on his flute and I accompanied him on drum. I came to the realisation that the flute is the instrument of my soul, and playing the drum, I experienced the same uncertainty and lack of grace that I sometimes feel when I dance. It's an exercise in letting go of fear and playing the rhythm you feel inside. Dave had a number of flutes and whistles with him, which reminded me, I need to learn to play my tin whistle. He said he had an instrospective flute... that a flute, or any object, has an identity at least as valid as those we create for ourselves... and that, indeed, a flute can be introspective.

 

 

 

 

It seems like the people who are most fascinating

 

 

 

 

I have trouble crying unless I'm over the edge -- when something touches me deeply, or I'm overcome with emotion -- but there are those times when I just withdraw and feel like crying would be such a release, yet I can't do it. I think that's where the impulse to self-sabotage can come into play (if things were a little bit worse, I could cry, and then I would feel better.) I would like to learn how to cry, but I don't know where to start.

 

 

 

 

 

I spent the weekend with a wonderfully pleasant group of people experiencing community and pyromania. This weekend and next, with our Ann Arbor Natural Building and Community group (and a few others), we worked on buidling a rocket stove, ate a lot of food, played music, connected,

 

 

 

I have trouble crying unless I'm over the edge, something touches me deeply or I'm overcome with emotion, but I just wish I could

 

It was a mixed weekend, with its very fulfilling moments, and moments

 

 

I am here with a wonderfully pleasant group of people right now experiencing community and pyromania. This weekend and next we'll be building a rocket stove and heated bench, eating food, playing music, connecting, and having a fun time together. This is our Natural Building and Community group from Ann Arbor (as well as some other people who decided to attend). It feels like the perfect culmination of my time in Michigan, though I'm not really sure how I feel about returning home. It will be a big change. Two members of our group, Lance and Dave, went to college in the Boston area. Lance studied film score composition Berklee College of Music and Dave studied something (architecture?) at MIT. Both remind me how much I miss the Boston area and how much I should be looking forward to going to school in Cambridge, but I guess right now I'm more concerned about the shorter term... what the next few months have in store for me. Lance recommended the Border Cafe in Harvard Square, and really seemed to miss his time in Boston. I told him how I love showing people around the city, and he knew exactly what I meant -- there's so much around every corner to show people.

 

I purchased a bus ticket home for the Monday before Thanksgiving, and suddenly, I look at the license plates that say "Michigan," and the experience feels elusive. I don't want to wake up on Thanksgiving and wonder if the last few months were a dream. After I bought my ticket, I enjoyed a walk through the wooded and windy dusk trails of Proud Lake and the wildness of the Huron River wishing I could just sit there with someone and tell ghost stories (or read Wither). It takes a while to sink in that things are changing...

 

On Friday night people started to arrive. Terry came and revealed himself as an old hippie who always felt most at home at the Wayne State communes... he says smoking marijuana and communing with the trees is a daily experience for him (he's the one starting the arboretum eco-center in White Lake). Later Dave, Mike, and Dagne arrived. Dave played some Irish jigs on his flute and I accompanied him on drum. I came to the realisation that the flute is the instrument of my soul, and playing the drum, I experienced the same uncertainty and lack of grace that I sometimes feel when I dance. It's an exercise in letting go of fear and playing the rhythm you feel inside. Dave had a number of flutes and whistles with him, which reminded me, I need to learn to play my tin whistle. He said he had an instrospective flute... that a flute, or any object, has an identity at least as valid as those we create for ourselves... and that, indeed, a flute can be introspective.

 

Mike, Dave and I were going to ignite a mostly closed barrel last night (the purpose was to burn the paint off and remove toxins so it could be used in a rocket stove we're building over the next couple weekends). It would have been morbidly interesting, maybe, to see the newspaper headline: Dave, an MIT graduate, gets inadvertently blown up by igniting gasoline in a closed barrel... Maybe it's for the best that we didn't do it!

 

We'll be sharing a lot of food and building a rocket stove (a super-efficient wood-burning stove that can be used for anything from heating food to hottubs to benches). It's really exciting stuff and I'm excited to think that after these next couple weekends I'll probably know enough (or near enough) to build one myself. It's a great emergency stove and useful for all sorts of things...

 

I had some great ideas about graduate school the other day. My main project could be something very useful for the future

 

 

One thing I'd really like to learn is how to cry when I want to cry. I can cry when something touches me deeply or when I'm overcome with emotion, but sometimes I just feel bad and want to *cry* and get it out... and I can't. I think it's a huge handicap for me not to be able to cry...

 

 

Terry, Mike, Dave and I were going to ignite a mostly closed barrel last night, but for some reason, decided instead to cook it in a bonfire this morning. (The purpose was to burn the paint off and remove toxins so it could be used in a rocket stove we're building).

 

For the next two weekends, we'll be sharing a lot of food and building a rocket stove bench (a super-efficient wood-burning stove that can be used for anything from heating food to hottubs to benches). I had a great time last night talking with Terry and Mike and Dave, accompanying Dave on drum, while he played traditional Celtic songs on the flute.

 

 

I am here with an awesome group of people right now experiencing

 

I bought a ticket to return home the Monday before Thanksgiving. It feels bittersweet. It's the longest I've ever been away from home. I have mixed feelings about going back to Massachusetts. I don't know what life will have in store for me. I look at the license plates on the cars which say "Michigan" and suddenly the whole experience feels elusive.

 

 

I look at the license plates on the cars which say "Michigan" and suddenly it feels elusive. I enjoyed a walk through the wooded and windy dusk trails of Proud Lake, and enjoyed the wildness of the Huron River,

 

I look at the license plates on the cars which (usually) say "Michigan

 

I've been in Michigan since August, the longest I've ever been away from home, and I'm not sure what life will be like when I return.

 

 

I've been in Michigan since August, and this has become like a home for me, so I have mixed feelings about

 

I enjoyed a walk through the wooded and windy dusk trails of Proud Lake.

 

www.massmees.org

 

www.inthisplace.org

treeofpeacesociety.info

http://www.ndakinna.com/

urbaneco.org (Urban Ecology Institute)

enviroedboston.org

Seeds of Solidarity (seedsofsolidarity.org)

Arnold Arboretum

 

www.connectingforchange.org