Milt Greek's Blog: The River of Life - Posts Tagged "death"
Entering the Cold Darkness
After a long and hot beginning of fall, the temperatures recently dropped. Frost thickly covers the grass each morning and leaves are beginning to change to yellow and red, several weeks behind the natural rhythms of our climate. My wife has observed that in the last few years, the seasons have been getting later, with fall, winter, spring and summer all beginning and ending later than normally. A few days ago, we saw yards with crocuses, the early spring flower, blooming, creating a strange beauty out of sync with the natural cycles of the year.
Still, fall crops are being harvested and we will go to the last produce auction of the season soon, seeking potatoes, winter squashes, beets, turnips, cabbages and daikon radishes if available. We have already canned over two dozen quarts of Roma Tomatoes and in our unheated basement an authentic German crock given to us by a friend has a hot and sour Korean Kim Chi aging in it for the winter. A Rye Stout is fermenting in pales for opening in mid-winter and the grapes we harvested and froze in September are thawing, to be made into wine for next fall.
As the Earth cools and the plants fall into a deep sleep for winter, humanity recognizes the season with traditional holidays. All Hallows Eve, the Day of the Dead, Samhain, and Halloween, among others, mark the beginning of the season of cold darkness and scarcity, a season where animals like us often face death more directly than the robust seasons of spring and summer. In my own family, mid-winter marks the anniversaries of five deaths in my immediate family in the past two dozen years, a reminder that for mortal bodies, the cold darkness takes a toll that is very real and, in many ways, an inevitable part of the joys of a full family life. Each in their own way, the seasonal holidays of mid-fall commemorate the season of death and recognizes our gateway into the unknown darkness. As the Earth sleeps and enrichens itself with the compost of fallen plants and leaves, we animals contend with hardships we do not wish to face.
In the past few years, a wave of deaths, injuries and sickness swept over our web of life with a power and affect like never before. In our personal knowledge of family and friends, extended families lost over two dozen loved ones, including my own dear mother-in-law and her brother within days of each other, with another immediate family member suffering a severe injury and a lasting health crisis. Parents, grandparents, older siblings, friends and tragically a young child all were taken from our web of life and many other illnesses and health crises occurred. I had seen waves of death and misfortune before, but the enormity of the losses were shocking, shaking our personal web of life and changing families and friends deeply.
Then, gradually, the wave subsided in our personal web of life. People who had fallen ill or suffered injury began recoveries. Mourning did not cease, but was lessened by happier times. The wave of deaths and injuries was replaced by a slowly growing wave of healing, pregnancies and births. Babies and young children began to take the place of those we had lost and we found ourselves once again renewing our lives and love of others while still feeling the loss of those who has passed.
As the Earth falls asleep and the scarcity of the coming season renews the season of death for animals, the Earth composts the season’s growth, fertilizing the ground in preparation for the renewal of next spring. In the larger human world, many are distracted by the political challenges, with sensitive people and other traditionally powerless people feeling threatened. What the media dominated by white males calls identity politics is really the politics of traditional power-over, with inequalities of traditional society challenged by the growing strength of women, people of color and other traditionally oppressed people.
The history of the United States is largely the telling of the struggle between the forces of traditional power-over against the growing democratization of society, with our own Apartheid system ending with a finally democratic government in the mid-1960s through the passage of the Voters Rights Act. Recognizing that their numbers are dwindling, the people who adhere to traditional power-over relationships are more desperate to retain their privilege, making their flaws more apparent for a younger generation of more liberated people. Just as the winter composts to make the ground more fertile, I sincerely believe that the challenges of these times will be followed by a greater awakening.
Meanwhile the seasonal cycle continues, the Earth slumbers and nourishes itself, walking into the dark underworld and reincarnating in the new life of next spring. We continue to prepare for winter with harvests of long-lasting storage crops and canning, freezing and fermenting food for the coming season of scarcity. We await, with great anticipation, the births of more new lives into the circle of our friends and family and prepare for the joyful, exhausting work of the season of renewal and new life. For those who prepare for the cold darkness, it can be a time of nestling in, introspection and the warmth of a happy home. In these hard times, I wish the same for all the Earth.
Still, fall crops are being harvested and we will go to the last produce auction of the season soon, seeking potatoes, winter squashes, beets, turnips, cabbages and daikon radishes if available. We have already canned over two dozen quarts of Roma Tomatoes and in our unheated basement an authentic German crock given to us by a friend has a hot and sour Korean Kim Chi aging in it for the winter. A Rye Stout is fermenting in pales for opening in mid-winter and the grapes we harvested and froze in September are thawing, to be made into wine for next fall.
As the Earth cools and the plants fall into a deep sleep for winter, humanity recognizes the season with traditional holidays. All Hallows Eve, the Day of the Dead, Samhain, and Halloween, among others, mark the beginning of the season of cold darkness and scarcity, a season where animals like us often face death more directly than the robust seasons of spring and summer. In my own family, mid-winter marks the anniversaries of five deaths in my immediate family in the past two dozen years, a reminder that for mortal bodies, the cold darkness takes a toll that is very real and, in many ways, an inevitable part of the joys of a full family life. Each in their own way, the seasonal holidays of mid-fall commemorate the season of death and recognizes our gateway into the unknown darkness. As the Earth sleeps and enrichens itself with the compost of fallen plants and leaves, we animals contend with hardships we do not wish to face.
In the past few years, a wave of deaths, injuries and sickness swept over our web of life with a power and affect like never before. In our personal knowledge of family and friends, extended families lost over two dozen loved ones, including my own dear mother-in-law and her brother within days of each other, with another immediate family member suffering a severe injury and a lasting health crisis. Parents, grandparents, older siblings, friends and tragically a young child all were taken from our web of life and many other illnesses and health crises occurred. I had seen waves of death and misfortune before, but the enormity of the losses were shocking, shaking our personal web of life and changing families and friends deeply.
Then, gradually, the wave subsided in our personal web of life. People who had fallen ill or suffered injury began recoveries. Mourning did not cease, but was lessened by happier times. The wave of deaths and injuries was replaced by a slowly growing wave of healing, pregnancies and births. Babies and young children began to take the place of those we had lost and we found ourselves once again renewing our lives and love of others while still feeling the loss of those who has passed.
As the Earth falls asleep and the scarcity of the coming season renews the season of death for animals, the Earth composts the season’s growth, fertilizing the ground in preparation for the renewal of next spring. In the larger human world, many are distracted by the political challenges, with sensitive people and other traditionally powerless people feeling threatened. What the media dominated by white males calls identity politics is really the politics of traditional power-over, with inequalities of traditional society challenged by the growing strength of women, people of color and other traditionally oppressed people.
The history of the United States is largely the telling of the struggle between the forces of traditional power-over against the growing democratization of society, with our own Apartheid system ending with a finally democratic government in the mid-1960s through the passage of the Voters Rights Act. Recognizing that their numbers are dwindling, the people who adhere to traditional power-over relationships are more desperate to retain their privilege, making their flaws more apparent for a younger generation of more liberated people. Just as the winter composts to make the ground more fertile, I sincerely believe that the challenges of these times will be followed by a greater awakening.
Meanwhile the seasonal cycle continues, the Earth slumbers and nourishes itself, walking into the dark underworld and reincarnating in the new life of next spring. We continue to prepare for winter with harvests of long-lasting storage crops and canning, freezing and fermenting food for the coming season of scarcity. We await, with great anticipation, the births of more new lives into the circle of our friends and family and prepare for the joyful, exhausting work of the season of renewal and new life. For those who prepare for the cold darkness, it can be a time of nestling in, introspection and the warmth of a happy home. In these hard times, I wish the same for all the Earth.
The Dying God
As the sunlight wanes, the temperatures have turned cold and we’ve had our first thin layer of snow on top of the yards and sidewalks. With cloudy, below freezing days, the snow remained briefly, with more snow lightly falling at dusk as I walked home into the increasing darkness.
“Sungod religions exult the growth of the mighty sun from Winter Solstice through Summer Solstice, filling the Earth with abundant crops and energy. At Summer Solstice the Sungod’s half-brother—a weird named Mordred, Judas, and other names—seeks to kill the noble Sun. Their struggle diminishes the light till the Eternal Sun dies and is born anew at Winter Solstice, once again defeating his weird. So humanity has walked the path of Sun cycles for millennia, seeing the divinity of the Sun.”
I recently sent this message to one of the most important people in my life who is deeply connected to the Sun and often slowed by the wintry cold darkness. I have heard that all people are affected by the darkness of winter, which seems reasonable since it is a time of dormancy for many animals and plants.
Thinkers and neo-pagan seekers trace the agrarian origins of the seemingly all-powerful sun god, whose warmth and light gives forth the abundant crops that humanity needs to survive and thrive. As millennia passed, later stories involving the death or near-death and renewal of long-haired men such as Hercules, Samson, King Arthur and Jesus were placed over the previous traditions.
This overlay of our historical moment onto traditional, iconic stories is a common religious practice, such as when modern puritans declare what God, Allah, Krishna, or Buddha would do in the modern moment and insist that only those who follow their interpretation are the sanctified followers of the long-passed messenger of god. For millennia, religious leaders have reinvented their own faith, making it contemporary and leading it astray from it natural Earthly origins.
In facing the times of darkness in which the Earth sleeps and we animals walk in the valley of the shadow of death, the answer to the challenges of the dark times is to learn from and follow the Earth. For those of us fortunate enough to have some connection to the Earth, this a time of rest, reflection and preparation for the coming seasons of abundance.
I have been gathering fallen leaves to put on top of the garden after I turn it over, helping the Earth compost the soil and prepare for the coming spring. Later I will sort and prepare seeds from the previous year, in my covenant with the plants that they provide my family with food in exchange for me preserving their family through gathering their seeds, trading them with others and planting them in future gardens.
We have been transplanting native trees and shrubs—Virginia Pines, Virginia Junipers, White Cedars, Dogwoods, Butterfly Bushes, Redbuds and Milkweeds, along with the non-native heirlooms of Lilac and Chaste Tree—during this dormant season to provide a privacy hedge and flower garden to attract birds and butterflies. Soon we will buy a live White Pine Christmas tree to plant in a family member’s yard to commemorate the birth of her and her husband's first child, making a special celebration of the season. So the cycle of the Earth into the cold darkness is also a time of preparation and promise for the future.
We completed the brewing of Irish Red for our Saint Patrick’s Day tradition with our friend and have racked wine off its sediment into carboys to settle for bottling in January. I hope to reach out to local growers, including Anabaptists (Amish), to supplement our supply of foods in our unheated basement, including more Turnips, Beets, Cabbages, Daikon Radishes and Long Island Cheese squash. I am slowly learning to live on what the Earth offers, rather than choosing to indulge myself with a myriad of food from unsustainable practices. My wife and I have also begun to spend time at the homemade fire pit she designed, warming ourselves and watching the fire while we drink homebrewed beer, resting and considering our good fortune during the dark times of the dying sun god.
To an estranged mind, these joyous, reverent acts seem mundane, yet they are part of sacred re-creation of life. While the religions of patriarchy have overlain these traditions with words, concepts and sentiments of the urban human world far from a life in harmony with the Earth, this way of life awaits whomever has the privilege of a life close to the land. The cycles of light and dark remain and beckon us all, even though our modern human consciousness may fail to recognize these ancient, life-affirming ways.
“Sungod religions exult the growth of the mighty sun from Winter Solstice through Summer Solstice, filling the Earth with abundant crops and energy. At Summer Solstice the Sungod’s half-brother—a weird named Mordred, Judas, and other names—seeks to kill the noble Sun. Their struggle diminishes the light till the Eternal Sun dies and is born anew at Winter Solstice, once again defeating his weird. So humanity has walked the path of Sun cycles for millennia, seeing the divinity of the Sun.”
I recently sent this message to one of the most important people in my life who is deeply connected to the Sun and often slowed by the wintry cold darkness. I have heard that all people are affected by the darkness of winter, which seems reasonable since it is a time of dormancy for many animals and plants.
Thinkers and neo-pagan seekers trace the agrarian origins of the seemingly all-powerful sun god, whose warmth and light gives forth the abundant crops that humanity needs to survive and thrive. As millennia passed, later stories involving the death or near-death and renewal of long-haired men such as Hercules, Samson, King Arthur and Jesus were placed over the previous traditions.
This overlay of our historical moment onto traditional, iconic stories is a common religious practice, such as when modern puritans declare what God, Allah, Krishna, or Buddha would do in the modern moment and insist that only those who follow their interpretation are the sanctified followers of the long-passed messenger of god. For millennia, religious leaders have reinvented their own faith, making it contemporary and leading it astray from it natural Earthly origins.
In facing the times of darkness in which the Earth sleeps and we animals walk in the valley of the shadow of death, the answer to the challenges of the dark times is to learn from and follow the Earth. For those of us fortunate enough to have some connection to the Earth, this a time of rest, reflection and preparation for the coming seasons of abundance.
I have been gathering fallen leaves to put on top of the garden after I turn it over, helping the Earth compost the soil and prepare for the coming spring. Later I will sort and prepare seeds from the previous year, in my covenant with the plants that they provide my family with food in exchange for me preserving their family through gathering their seeds, trading them with others and planting them in future gardens.
We have been transplanting native trees and shrubs—Virginia Pines, Virginia Junipers, White Cedars, Dogwoods, Butterfly Bushes, Redbuds and Milkweeds, along with the non-native heirlooms of Lilac and Chaste Tree—during this dormant season to provide a privacy hedge and flower garden to attract birds and butterflies. Soon we will buy a live White Pine Christmas tree to plant in a family member’s yard to commemorate the birth of her and her husband's first child, making a special celebration of the season. So the cycle of the Earth into the cold darkness is also a time of preparation and promise for the future.
We completed the brewing of Irish Red for our Saint Patrick’s Day tradition with our friend and have racked wine off its sediment into carboys to settle for bottling in January. I hope to reach out to local growers, including Anabaptists (Amish), to supplement our supply of foods in our unheated basement, including more Turnips, Beets, Cabbages, Daikon Radishes and Long Island Cheese squash. I am slowly learning to live on what the Earth offers, rather than choosing to indulge myself with a myriad of food from unsustainable practices. My wife and I have also begun to spend time at the homemade fire pit she designed, warming ourselves and watching the fire while we drink homebrewed beer, resting and considering our good fortune during the dark times of the dying sun god.
To an estranged mind, these joyous, reverent acts seem mundane, yet they are part of sacred re-creation of life. While the religions of patriarchy have overlain these traditions with words, concepts and sentiments of the urban human world far from a life in harmony with the Earth, this way of life awaits whomever has the privilege of a life close to the land. The cycles of light and dark remain and beckon us all, even though our modern human consciousness may fail to recognize these ancient, life-affirming ways.
Faith at the darkest hour
During the dark nights, the temperature has dropped and the short days have remained cold in the waning light. Despite the human-centered holidays of the season, the larger human world remains, as almost always, facing crises and hardships. In our personal web of life, the joys of newborns and toddlers filling our lives are mixed with the declining health of elderly family and friends and the threats of tragedy for some whose lives face challenges found hard to endure. It is a time of cold darkness with more to come, causing us to nestle in to our homes and find the good and bad that awaits us there.
The Earthly season calls us to live in ways that the hubbub and distractions of the modern world finds foreign. Rather than go outward, we are called to go inward; while we can still celebrate the good things in our lives, we need to look ahead, through hard times, prepare to make sacrifices and face the threat of loss. It is a time of giving up to the cold darkness ahead so we can build a better future.
On warm days, I have begun to turn the soil in our garden, placing leaves over the soft earth to prevent unwanted seeds and plants from taking root and allowing extra nutrients to return to the soil. Our garlic, planted last fall to grow during the cold times of winter for harvest in early summer, is one of the few crops that show signs of life still; otherwise, it is a time of dormancy for the Earth. During these times, I will plan the garden for the next year and prepare seeds for planting in the spring.
In keeping with our traditions, we are planning a solstice meal of local foods, which I hope will include the seasonal storage crops of Butternut squash, beans and corn frozen during the summer harvest—the Three Sisters of Native American foods. With this strong foundation, we will open a Maple Porter we call “Viking Winter”—a heavy, complex beer that we brew each Winter Solstice and open a year later. In these Earthly hard times, we are fortunate to have abundance and reasons to celebrate.
Though many consider this season difficult, my wife, who loves winter and nighttime, celebrates them and maintains a home marked by happiness and hope during this time. Years ago, on the Winter Solstice, we held a “Longest Night of the Year” party with candles lit throughout the house and many friends and family in attendance. Following ancient and recently revived traditions, in the center of the party was a table with paper for notes, pencils, matches and a skillet for ashes of burned notes. We explained to our guests that the cold darkness is a time of winnowing, of giving up what is not working, so our lives will have room to grow a new, better life. We invited them to write what they wished to give up in their lives on a piece of paper and burn it, allowing that part of their life to transform into something better.
This year, I reflect on what I’ve realized is one of my greatest failings—a lack of faith in my daily life. While I have repeatedly received good fortune, kindness and abundance and seen in small, personal webs of life that consequences often follow from life choices: that what goes around often comes around. I grew up with a lack of faith and an underlying belief that altruism was foolish. In my daily life, I struggle with worries and anxieties that make me less effective, less able to be a kind family man and to enjoy the gifts we have received.
In my growth as a sensitive person, I came to realize that puritans in my personal world had claimed the concept of faith as theirs—that to have faith in a spiritual world and positive spiritual energy like the Covenant of Good Works, one need to follow one of the puritan religions, such as Christianity, Islam, Hinduism or Buddhism. As someone who does not see humanity as having a special relationship with the spiritual world, but rather an equal child of that world with all other forms of life, these religions seemed to claim faith as theirs and not allow me to have it as one of my virtues.
Such lack of faith is common with sensitive people, thinkers and even mystical seekers, who see the corruption of religions used for power-over-others to also corrupt faith itself. How can we have faith in the darkest hour, when humanity’s history is filled with the mistakes of the past being repeated in the present? When all life and all things will pass into an unknown future?
Yet, faith is a powerful foundation to all spiritual life and daily living. Faith is used by puritans to strengthen their lives and move them forward. It is supported by their personal experience, where they see their prayers answered frequently enough that they recognize the power of thought manifestation. This recognition by puritans is a key virtue in how they conduct a spiritual life of their choosing.
As I have studied my personal life in thinker fashion, observing the smallest coincidences and seemingly minor events, I have seen a spiritual world in our daily life. While I cannot say there is a deity, nor would I dare attempt to speak for that possibly existing deity, I witness a spiritual world nearly every day. I don’t have to believe in it—by watching coincidences, I see it.
For me this Winter Solstice, I will seek to give up my cynical, anxiety-causing lack of faith. In place of this, I will seek to build a strong faith to provide a foundation for further growth and a more spiritual life. My wife and I are extremely fortunate, despite my own failings. My faith in the goodness of the spiritual world, long dormant in my life, is a recognition of the kindness I have received again and again in this hard but wonderful world. Building on that recognition and the Covenant of Good Works allows me to believe that in all of our journeys through the spiritual world that there can be a better, unknown future, even at the darkest hour.
The Earthly season calls us to live in ways that the hubbub and distractions of the modern world finds foreign. Rather than go outward, we are called to go inward; while we can still celebrate the good things in our lives, we need to look ahead, through hard times, prepare to make sacrifices and face the threat of loss. It is a time of giving up to the cold darkness ahead so we can build a better future.
On warm days, I have begun to turn the soil in our garden, placing leaves over the soft earth to prevent unwanted seeds and plants from taking root and allowing extra nutrients to return to the soil. Our garlic, planted last fall to grow during the cold times of winter for harvest in early summer, is one of the few crops that show signs of life still; otherwise, it is a time of dormancy for the Earth. During these times, I will plan the garden for the next year and prepare seeds for planting in the spring.
In keeping with our traditions, we are planning a solstice meal of local foods, which I hope will include the seasonal storage crops of Butternut squash, beans and corn frozen during the summer harvest—the Three Sisters of Native American foods. With this strong foundation, we will open a Maple Porter we call “Viking Winter”—a heavy, complex beer that we brew each Winter Solstice and open a year later. In these Earthly hard times, we are fortunate to have abundance and reasons to celebrate.
Though many consider this season difficult, my wife, who loves winter and nighttime, celebrates them and maintains a home marked by happiness and hope during this time. Years ago, on the Winter Solstice, we held a “Longest Night of the Year” party with candles lit throughout the house and many friends and family in attendance. Following ancient and recently revived traditions, in the center of the party was a table with paper for notes, pencils, matches and a skillet for ashes of burned notes. We explained to our guests that the cold darkness is a time of winnowing, of giving up what is not working, so our lives will have room to grow a new, better life. We invited them to write what they wished to give up in their lives on a piece of paper and burn it, allowing that part of their life to transform into something better.
This year, I reflect on what I’ve realized is one of my greatest failings—a lack of faith in my daily life. While I have repeatedly received good fortune, kindness and abundance and seen in small, personal webs of life that consequences often follow from life choices: that what goes around often comes around. I grew up with a lack of faith and an underlying belief that altruism was foolish. In my daily life, I struggle with worries and anxieties that make me less effective, less able to be a kind family man and to enjoy the gifts we have received.
In my growth as a sensitive person, I came to realize that puritans in my personal world had claimed the concept of faith as theirs—that to have faith in a spiritual world and positive spiritual energy like the Covenant of Good Works, one need to follow one of the puritan religions, such as Christianity, Islam, Hinduism or Buddhism. As someone who does not see humanity as having a special relationship with the spiritual world, but rather an equal child of that world with all other forms of life, these religions seemed to claim faith as theirs and not allow me to have it as one of my virtues.
Such lack of faith is common with sensitive people, thinkers and even mystical seekers, who see the corruption of religions used for power-over-others to also corrupt faith itself. How can we have faith in the darkest hour, when humanity’s history is filled with the mistakes of the past being repeated in the present? When all life and all things will pass into an unknown future?
Yet, faith is a powerful foundation to all spiritual life and daily living. Faith is used by puritans to strengthen their lives and move them forward. It is supported by their personal experience, where they see their prayers answered frequently enough that they recognize the power of thought manifestation. This recognition by puritans is a key virtue in how they conduct a spiritual life of their choosing.
As I have studied my personal life in thinker fashion, observing the smallest coincidences and seemingly minor events, I have seen a spiritual world in our daily life. While I cannot say there is a deity, nor would I dare attempt to speak for that possibly existing deity, I witness a spiritual world nearly every day. I don’t have to believe in it—by watching coincidences, I see it.
For me this Winter Solstice, I will seek to give up my cynical, anxiety-causing lack of faith. In place of this, I will seek to build a strong faith to provide a foundation for further growth and a more spiritual life. My wife and I are extremely fortunate, despite my own failings. My faith in the goodness of the spiritual world, long dormant in my life, is a recognition of the kindness I have received again and again in this hard but wonderful world. Building on that recognition and the Covenant of Good Works allows me to believe that in all of our journeys through the spiritual world that there can be a better, unknown future, even at the darkest hour.
Seeking Faith at Midwinter
In the slowly growing light, the winter weather has been fluctuating between very cold and cool, with mixtures of rain turning into snow and melting a few days after. Some people grumble about the weather, especially if they have to drive in it, but the children always relish the snowfall and sled down the steep banks of our hollow with a joy that adults often forget.
We visited with a friend who mentioned that she was “going slow-mo” this month, but we noticed she seemed healthy and happy. In the season of cold, wintry weather, our bodies often ask us to go slowly and relish the internal life of rest, introspection and intimacy with family and friends.
Our concord wine has finished settling in glass carboys and we are racking it out of the carboys, adding potassium sorbate to kill any remaining yeast and bottling it to age in wine racks covered with throw rugs in our unheated basement. We are also bottling our Viking Winter Maple Porter, brewed on Winter Solstice to open next Winter Solstice, and with this batch adding a little vanilla extract to one case to experiment with a Vanilla Maple Porter. We will soon be brewing a Honey Golden Ale to open on May Day. I have also made a garden map for the upcoming spring and will be separating our dried seeds from their stems and pods for planting in late February or early March. Even in the depths of winter, we prepare for the coming season.
For our Candlemas (Midwinter) meal, we are looking in our stores to make food from local long-lasting crops like garlic, onions, potatoes, sweet potatoes, daikon radishes, sunchoke, beets, turnips, dried beans and canned tomatoes. We are also opening a Rye Stout brewed in the fall to go with the wintry cold and the hearty food.
Candlemas is a time of looking forward to the new solar cycle. In the dark and rebirth of the solar year, I choose to work on increasing my faith in a benevolent spiritual world. Now I am reflecting on this choice, considering both its source and how I can strengthen my faith and what that truly means.
In looking at where my intention arose, I see that two and three years ago, our family and community faced hardships that tested my strength. We underwent a wave of deaths, injuries, illnesses and crises that was unlike any other that I have witnessed. For months on end, family, friends, coworkers and acquaintances told stories of loss and suffering. In several families, multiple family members died within months and sometimes days of each other. Our own family suffered with the others and I despaired, my faith shaken in ways that I now deeply regret. This cycle’s focus on faith came not from a place of abundant strength, but rather of recognizing my profound lack of it.
In the last twelve months, the season of our lives has seen renewal that is as welcomed as unexpected—in place of waves of death and illness there are waves of birth. Newborns and young babies are filling our lives. Sweetly, children born of mothers who have known each other since before they can remember are meeting each other in infancy and, like their mothers, will grow up as friends that have known each other since before their first true memories. Today, three toddlers of these Moms shared time together after their naps and were fascinated by each other, as if recognizing old friends just now becoming reacquainted.
In place of uncertainty and trials, I feel a greater sense of love and belonging. My desire to increase my faith is in fact a statement that my faith has been strengthened. The hardships we faced have been endured and our lives are once again turning toward happier times. It is, in fact, an easy time to say I have faith because it is not being tested; rather it is renewing with our lives. The lesson is summed up by something a counselor told me after a wave of deaths over a decade ago had caused strains in my relationship with my dear wife—“Marriages have seasons,” she said, speaking from her knowledge as an older woman married for decades with a husband and family.
Like marriages and the Earth, life has seasons. Waves of deaths and new lives, of hardship and opportunity, flow in and out of our lives. Our families, communities, societies and human world travel through these waves, all the while we alternate between despair and the joys of hopeful renewal.
If I have faith in a benevolent spiritual world, perhaps I can be stronger for those I love during our next time of trials. Perhaps I can truly relish the joys of the present moment, indulging deeply in the sweetness of new lives during this cold time of our year. During the hard times, I am often unconscious of the working of the spiritual world that fills our lives, like the slumbering Earth composting new life under the winter’s snow. My faith, whatever it is, is vital to give me to strength for the younger generations in my family and community as they flow within the river of life on this hard and wonderful Earth.
We visited with a friend who mentioned that she was “going slow-mo” this month, but we noticed she seemed healthy and happy. In the season of cold, wintry weather, our bodies often ask us to go slowly and relish the internal life of rest, introspection and intimacy with family and friends.
Our concord wine has finished settling in glass carboys and we are racking it out of the carboys, adding potassium sorbate to kill any remaining yeast and bottling it to age in wine racks covered with throw rugs in our unheated basement. We are also bottling our Viking Winter Maple Porter, brewed on Winter Solstice to open next Winter Solstice, and with this batch adding a little vanilla extract to one case to experiment with a Vanilla Maple Porter. We will soon be brewing a Honey Golden Ale to open on May Day. I have also made a garden map for the upcoming spring and will be separating our dried seeds from their stems and pods for planting in late February or early March. Even in the depths of winter, we prepare for the coming season.
For our Candlemas (Midwinter) meal, we are looking in our stores to make food from local long-lasting crops like garlic, onions, potatoes, sweet potatoes, daikon radishes, sunchoke, beets, turnips, dried beans and canned tomatoes. We are also opening a Rye Stout brewed in the fall to go with the wintry cold and the hearty food.
Candlemas is a time of looking forward to the new solar cycle. In the dark and rebirth of the solar year, I choose to work on increasing my faith in a benevolent spiritual world. Now I am reflecting on this choice, considering both its source and how I can strengthen my faith and what that truly means.
In looking at where my intention arose, I see that two and three years ago, our family and community faced hardships that tested my strength. We underwent a wave of deaths, injuries, illnesses and crises that was unlike any other that I have witnessed. For months on end, family, friends, coworkers and acquaintances told stories of loss and suffering. In several families, multiple family members died within months and sometimes days of each other. Our own family suffered with the others and I despaired, my faith shaken in ways that I now deeply regret. This cycle’s focus on faith came not from a place of abundant strength, but rather of recognizing my profound lack of it.
In the last twelve months, the season of our lives has seen renewal that is as welcomed as unexpected—in place of waves of death and illness there are waves of birth. Newborns and young babies are filling our lives. Sweetly, children born of mothers who have known each other since before they can remember are meeting each other in infancy and, like their mothers, will grow up as friends that have known each other since before their first true memories. Today, three toddlers of these Moms shared time together after their naps and were fascinated by each other, as if recognizing old friends just now becoming reacquainted.
In place of uncertainty and trials, I feel a greater sense of love and belonging. My desire to increase my faith is in fact a statement that my faith has been strengthened. The hardships we faced have been endured and our lives are once again turning toward happier times. It is, in fact, an easy time to say I have faith because it is not being tested; rather it is renewing with our lives. The lesson is summed up by something a counselor told me after a wave of deaths over a decade ago had caused strains in my relationship with my dear wife—“Marriages have seasons,” she said, speaking from her knowledge as an older woman married for decades with a husband and family.
Like marriages and the Earth, life has seasons. Waves of deaths and new lives, of hardship and opportunity, flow in and out of our lives. Our families, communities, societies and human world travel through these waves, all the while we alternate between despair and the joys of hopeful renewal.
If I have faith in a benevolent spiritual world, perhaps I can be stronger for those I love during our next time of trials. Perhaps I can truly relish the joys of the present moment, indulging deeply in the sweetness of new lives during this cold time of our year. During the hard times, I am often unconscious of the working of the spiritual world that fills our lives, like the slumbering Earth composting new life under the winter’s snow. My faith, whatever it is, is vital to give me to strength for the younger generations in my family and community as they flow within the river of life on this hard and wonderful Earth.
Life adapting to death
The season has been unusually hot for late spring and rainy, so lettuce has been growing rapidly, filling our refrigerator and rows at the produce auction. Arugula and Spinach have bolted, flowered and begun to set seed, which I will gather for next year once the plant has died. Mushrooms have been growing, providing the basis for soups and omelets. Using dead leaves from last fall, I have covered some of the area between the rows in our garden, acting as a weed barrier, a fertilizer and a way to retain moisture.
The produce auction itself has been active, but with unpredictable results. Our first auction for the club saw above-market prices for strawberries and asparagus and our buyer—an experience and crafty bidder—made the difficult decision to walk away with nothing, cancel the delivery for that night, and to add a later auction to our schedule. Following that, I went to a sparsely attended auction with an abundance of early crops and bought many strawberries for less than half the price at the market. It was the luck of the draw, and I know that I would have not been as wise as the buyer who walked away empty handed, but left our season’s budget in good shape.
Watching the woods, buying produce at the auction, natural gardening and harvesting wild crops like mushrooms has given me first-hand experience with how nature adapts to death. When I first began to sit in the woods and watch, I noticed how woodpeckers used dead limbs and trees as homes. I also saw that trees and other plants were constantly making the soil more fertile for future lives. As leaves and limbs fell and trees died and fell to the Earth, the work of their lives left a legacy that would make the ground more fertile for the generations that would follow them. Their lives were more than sustainable—they actually enhanced the future for their offspring.
I also saw that life came from death, creating an afterlife that was unpredictable but important. Mushrooms grew on dead wood, turning the death of trees into opportunities to grow new life and to help the process of enriching the soil. The trees themselves did not magically reincarnate from their own rotting carcasses, but rather sacrificed their physical bodies in death to provide nutrition to bugs, mushrooms, and other life living off their death. In turn, these entities would turn the rotting corpse of the tree into richer, more fertile soil from which new lives—including perhaps the grandchildren or great-great-grandchildren of the trees would flourish. I learned more from the wisdom of trees and of the Earth than any human teacher, and my human teachers have been brilliant lights.
As I grow older, I consider more and more my own legacy and what I can do to provide a better future for my family and community. This includes attending financial seminars by money-chasers who help me plan an economic future for me and my family. In a recent seminar, a money-chaser listed a series of economic challenges and approaches to life, ending with leaving a legacy after death. A virtue of money-chasers is that many consider what impact they want to have on the children, their community, and the larger world after they pass on; a failure of many money-chasers is that they only consider their economic impact, or seek to control others with that wealth.
A challenge for many sensitive people, such as artists and activists, is that we are often so burdened by seeking to live in a human culture that is at odds with our inner selves that we do not consider our impact and legacy on those we love the most—our children, our dear friends, and our community. We may spend many hours and a lot of what wealth we have to make the larger world a better place, to take part in consciousness-raising events, to protest the hardness of the money-chaser-violent-man-puritan culture that runs the larger human world, and to help make the ecological future better.
A sensitive person will suffer at the thought of the harm that money-chasers and violent-men do to the larger human world, with rampant pollution, the perpetuation of traditional hatreds and injustice, and the oppression of innocents. A money-chaser will complain that many sensitive people live only for today economically and do not consider our legacy in economic terms. In my own case, I would never have considered the economic impact I would have on my family and community had I not developed schizophrenia and retrained in computer work to get off disability. I would have pursued a much less materialistic life, especially had I not joined with my wife and her family. The middle ground of responsible economic living has much to learn from money-chasers and activists and sensitive people.
As part of my work with our food club, I attended a meeting that featured solar enterprise entrepreneurs and activists, who are seeking to find that middle ground. The keynote speaker was a woman who had, with her husband, started a solar business, helped create a green energy credit union and an investment organization to help fund and foster renewable energy. The merger of economic and ecological insight was inspiring, especially compared to the bitter greed of some of the money-chasers I work with, who both seek wealth in the vain attempt to find happiness and are miserable in living lives out of touch with the spiritual values of affirming life, family and community.
I sincerely believe that while these money-chasing puritan violent-men consciously believe that they are pursuing a life blessed by their deity, that their bitterness comes from unconsciously knowing that by doing harm to attain wealth they cannot “buy happiness.” For all their hard work, their happiness can only last as long as their purchases and attainments can salve their inner pain. Unless they can escape their materialistic, money-first mindset, they will never know peace, bliss or lasting happiness.
It is not easy to face the difficulty that lies ahead, or to try to find a balance between the greed of money-chasers and the economic poverty of activists and sensitive people. In my own case, being forced to find some compromises between the two extremes has been a very fortunate gift I received in the aftermath of my psychosis. However, that balance—essentially how we can care for ourselves and our families and communities while enriching the future of the Earth and future generations—is the essence of the challenge of our historical moment. For the answer, I always feel that turning to the Earth’s wisdom of life adapting to death is the deepest, most potent source of insight.
The produce auction itself has been active, but with unpredictable results. Our first auction for the club saw above-market prices for strawberries and asparagus and our buyer—an experience and crafty bidder—made the difficult decision to walk away with nothing, cancel the delivery for that night, and to add a later auction to our schedule. Following that, I went to a sparsely attended auction with an abundance of early crops and bought many strawberries for less than half the price at the market. It was the luck of the draw, and I know that I would have not been as wise as the buyer who walked away empty handed, but left our season’s budget in good shape.
Watching the woods, buying produce at the auction, natural gardening and harvesting wild crops like mushrooms has given me first-hand experience with how nature adapts to death. When I first began to sit in the woods and watch, I noticed how woodpeckers used dead limbs and trees as homes. I also saw that trees and other plants were constantly making the soil more fertile for future lives. As leaves and limbs fell and trees died and fell to the Earth, the work of their lives left a legacy that would make the ground more fertile for the generations that would follow them. Their lives were more than sustainable—they actually enhanced the future for their offspring.
I also saw that life came from death, creating an afterlife that was unpredictable but important. Mushrooms grew on dead wood, turning the death of trees into opportunities to grow new life and to help the process of enriching the soil. The trees themselves did not magically reincarnate from their own rotting carcasses, but rather sacrificed their physical bodies in death to provide nutrition to bugs, mushrooms, and other life living off their death. In turn, these entities would turn the rotting corpse of the tree into richer, more fertile soil from which new lives—including perhaps the grandchildren or great-great-grandchildren of the trees would flourish. I learned more from the wisdom of trees and of the Earth than any human teacher, and my human teachers have been brilliant lights.
As I grow older, I consider more and more my own legacy and what I can do to provide a better future for my family and community. This includes attending financial seminars by money-chasers who help me plan an economic future for me and my family. In a recent seminar, a money-chaser listed a series of economic challenges and approaches to life, ending with leaving a legacy after death. A virtue of money-chasers is that many consider what impact they want to have on the children, their community, and the larger world after they pass on; a failure of many money-chasers is that they only consider their economic impact, or seek to control others with that wealth.
A challenge for many sensitive people, such as artists and activists, is that we are often so burdened by seeking to live in a human culture that is at odds with our inner selves that we do not consider our impact and legacy on those we love the most—our children, our dear friends, and our community. We may spend many hours and a lot of what wealth we have to make the larger world a better place, to take part in consciousness-raising events, to protest the hardness of the money-chaser-violent-man-puritan culture that runs the larger human world, and to help make the ecological future better.
A sensitive person will suffer at the thought of the harm that money-chasers and violent-men do to the larger human world, with rampant pollution, the perpetuation of traditional hatreds and injustice, and the oppression of innocents. A money-chaser will complain that many sensitive people live only for today economically and do not consider our legacy in economic terms. In my own case, I would never have considered the economic impact I would have on my family and community had I not developed schizophrenia and retrained in computer work to get off disability. I would have pursued a much less materialistic life, especially had I not joined with my wife and her family. The middle ground of responsible economic living has much to learn from money-chasers and activists and sensitive people.
As part of my work with our food club, I attended a meeting that featured solar enterprise entrepreneurs and activists, who are seeking to find that middle ground. The keynote speaker was a woman who had, with her husband, started a solar business, helped create a green energy credit union and an investment organization to help fund and foster renewable energy. The merger of economic and ecological insight was inspiring, especially compared to the bitter greed of some of the money-chasers I work with, who both seek wealth in the vain attempt to find happiness and are miserable in living lives out of touch with the spiritual values of affirming life, family and community.
I sincerely believe that while these money-chasing puritan violent-men consciously believe that they are pursuing a life blessed by their deity, that their bitterness comes from unconsciously knowing that by doing harm to attain wealth they cannot “buy happiness.” For all their hard work, their happiness can only last as long as their purchases and attainments can salve their inner pain. Unless they can escape their materialistic, money-first mindset, they will never know peace, bliss or lasting happiness.
It is not easy to face the difficulty that lies ahead, or to try to find a balance between the greed of money-chasers and the economic poverty of activists and sensitive people. In my own case, being forced to find some compromises between the two extremes has been a very fortunate gift I received in the aftermath of my psychosis. However, that balance—essentially how we can care for ourselves and our families and communities while enriching the future of the Earth and future generations—is the essence of the challenge of our historical moment. For the answer, I always feel that turning to the Earth’s wisdom of life adapting to death is the deepest, most potent source of insight.
Sowing Seeds for Tomorrow
As the daylight increases, the warming Earth is bringing forth early spring flowers. Purple and white crocuses, pale blue periwinkle, golden yellow and eggshell white Daffodils, and lemony Forsythia are providing beauty in the midst of the still cold and dark season. While the human world is in the throes of an unforeseen and all-engulfing crisis, the Earth continues the annual cycle of seasonal life, untouched by the worries of the human world.
For decades, people in the circles I’ve traveled in have mentioned the inevitability of a new pandemic, worrying that the widespread use of antibiotics would evolve a superbug, untreatable by current medical knowledge. Others, unimpressed by claims that the human world had conquered the Earth and made it bow to the human god, worried that history’s lesson that plagues arise without warning would be ignored because of the widespread belief that humanity had overcome the challenges of all-encompassing Earth.
Coming into the local foods movement decades after it had taken a foothold in my community, I quickly became aware that it was preparing for times when our international supply of luxurious foods would be interrupted. Most people in my community, confident in the intricate vulnerability of industrial abundance, never consider if the food we consume is from the neighboring county or another hemisphere. As long as the complex and narrow supply chains bringing fruit from Chile or Hawaii and olive oil from Italy remain intact, the source is unimportant.
When I was drawn into the local food movement by high gasoline prices in 2008, I quickly learned how vulnerable my community was. Activists working towards sustainability and resiliency pointed out that our stores only had a supply of three days of food on the shelves and that our county’s food production could not feed our population. We were, in our ignorance, vulnerable to any crisis that would interrupt these world-wide supply chains providing an abundance of foods to our privileged communities. Among the many threats to our delicately maintained abundance, the likelihood of a pandemic was commonly discussed in the local food movement.
As the United States woke to a world-wide crisis that had dominated the world press for weeks, I found myself waking up as if from a deep sleep to the cause that had taken over my life more than a decade before. The food club we had developed over the last ten years and my hobby of gardening had brought me into the local and bulk food movements in my community, preparing me for the challenge we are currently facing.
One announcement followed another revealing that our sleepy ignorance had left our society unprepared for the rapidly increasing crisis. One after another organization announced changes or cancellations. The university I work at raced to implement plans for an all-online and remote coursework, community groups, ranging from spiritual to self-help to entertainment to restaurants announced closures. My own family cancelled plans for a family reunion meal.
Meeting with another local activist on our food club, I was reminded of the value of the networks the club had developed in our community. I realized that while the rest of the community was shutting down, we had the opportunity to help. I called our bulk food supplier the next day and asked him if their supply chains had been disrupted.
“No yet,” he replied, “But we are expecting them to be.”
Later that day I sent out an email to our club, letting members know that local food activists had been preparing for situations like these. This was followed quickly by order forms for rice, flour, sugar, cooking oils and other staples that my area cannot produce our own. Within three days, there were orders for as twice as much as we normally order in two months.
For our own resources, my wife and I made several trips to grocers, supplementing our stores of food from local sources and choosing a balanced selection of foods to deal with a long-term interruption of our supply chains. Following discussions with local food activists, I selected products that are from distant sources that are likely to become costly or scarce.
I’ve watched as top leadership have shifted from denial to sudden recognition that a devastating wave of death may soon engulf us. As dire predictions mount, I’ve reflected on what has been the carefully maintained denial by many in the United States. It is easy to believe what I wish if I avoid contradictory facts. If it served me, I could say that Moscow does not exist and unless I am taken there against my will I can reject any evidence as deception. On the other hand, I cannot act on the belief that I do not need food or water. Physical need cuts through denial.
For over a generation, most people living in the United States have not faced physical hardships that challenge cherished beliefs, leading to a culture out of touch with the essentials of life. The physical reality of a pandemics and living through waves of deaths are likely to break through these delusional walls in the same way that a decade ago losses in war and an economic downturn caused the last Republican president and his family to lose political power-over-others.
The covenant of bad works, which allows leaders to temporarily—and only temporarily—escape from natural justice, breeds incompetence, cruelty and narcissism. As a result, crises erupt as slowly evolving consequences created by the Earth and humanity respond to the quick, short-lived force of power-over. The suffering this causes breaks people out of their shells of denial and they reject the delusions they had about their hero, finally seeing that the emperor has no clothes.
Considering the likely political outcome of this crisis, I thought of a simple “equation”: Trump = W. The two individuals are twin tips of an iceberg of the same large hierarchy of white violent men, money-chasers and puritans. Hierarchies like these dominate the societies of most nations, living out the same story retold over the millennia of patriarchies: They ruthlessly gain power-over others, bring about suffering and injustice while ignoring real challenges until a crisis cause them to fall unexpectedly. It is a story of the larger human world that is witnessed, recounted, ignored and witnessed again. But it is not an indictment of a few very power-overful men; it is a measure by which money-chasers, violent men and puritans blame problems on the leaders they choose, rather than the lifestyle and goals that cause them to choose those leaders.
While the crisis in the larger human world grew, in our small and unimportant lives my wife and I sowed our garden under dark skies, as we have during spring for over a decade. Turning over the soil, adding compost and manure, and planting lettuces, arugula, mustard, spinach, kale, beets, carrots, turnips, onions and peas, we quietly took part in the cycle of life and renewal. The feel of cool, wet soil on my hands as we planted precious food gave me comfort and joy. While the human world careens into chaos and crisis, the simple acts of bringing forth life give both our bodies and our spirits strength. The hardships of the mortal world bring on threats and worries, but being embedded in the Earthly river of life gives practical meaning to each and every day. In two months our garden will be providing us life-giving food each day—a precious gift of the Earthly flow of life into eternity.
For decades, people in the circles I’ve traveled in have mentioned the inevitability of a new pandemic, worrying that the widespread use of antibiotics would evolve a superbug, untreatable by current medical knowledge. Others, unimpressed by claims that the human world had conquered the Earth and made it bow to the human god, worried that history’s lesson that plagues arise without warning would be ignored because of the widespread belief that humanity had overcome the challenges of all-encompassing Earth.
Coming into the local foods movement decades after it had taken a foothold in my community, I quickly became aware that it was preparing for times when our international supply of luxurious foods would be interrupted. Most people in my community, confident in the intricate vulnerability of industrial abundance, never consider if the food we consume is from the neighboring county or another hemisphere. As long as the complex and narrow supply chains bringing fruit from Chile or Hawaii and olive oil from Italy remain intact, the source is unimportant.
When I was drawn into the local food movement by high gasoline prices in 2008, I quickly learned how vulnerable my community was. Activists working towards sustainability and resiliency pointed out that our stores only had a supply of three days of food on the shelves and that our county’s food production could not feed our population. We were, in our ignorance, vulnerable to any crisis that would interrupt these world-wide supply chains providing an abundance of foods to our privileged communities. Among the many threats to our delicately maintained abundance, the likelihood of a pandemic was commonly discussed in the local food movement.
As the United States woke to a world-wide crisis that had dominated the world press for weeks, I found myself waking up as if from a deep sleep to the cause that had taken over my life more than a decade before. The food club we had developed over the last ten years and my hobby of gardening had brought me into the local and bulk food movements in my community, preparing me for the challenge we are currently facing.
One announcement followed another revealing that our sleepy ignorance had left our society unprepared for the rapidly increasing crisis. One after another organization announced changes or cancellations. The university I work at raced to implement plans for an all-online and remote coursework, community groups, ranging from spiritual to self-help to entertainment to restaurants announced closures. My own family cancelled plans for a family reunion meal.
Meeting with another local activist on our food club, I was reminded of the value of the networks the club had developed in our community. I realized that while the rest of the community was shutting down, we had the opportunity to help. I called our bulk food supplier the next day and asked him if their supply chains had been disrupted.
“No yet,” he replied, “But we are expecting them to be.”
Later that day I sent out an email to our club, letting members know that local food activists had been preparing for situations like these. This was followed quickly by order forms for rice, flour, sugar, cooking oils and other staples that my area cannot produce our own. Within three days, there were orders for as twice as much as we normally order in two months.
For our own resources, my wife and I made several trips to grocers, supplementing our stores of food from local sources and choosing a balanced selection of foods to deal with a long-term interruption of our supply chains. Following discussions with local food activists, I selected products that are from distant sources that are likely to become costly or scarce.
I’ve watched as top leadership have shifted from denial to sudden recognition that a devastating wave of death may soon engulf us. As dire predictions mount, I’ve reflected on what has been the carefully maintained denial by many in the United States. It is easy to believe what I wish if I avoid contradictory facts. If it served me, I could say that Moscow does not exist and unless I am taken there against my will I can reject any evidence as deception. On the other hand, I cannot act on the belief that I do not need food or water. Physical need cuts through denial.
For over a generation, most people living in the United States have not faced physical hardships that challenge cherished beliefs, leading to a culture out of touch with the essentials of life. The physical reality of a pandemics and living through waves of deaths are likely to break through these delusional walls in the same way that a decade ago losses in war and an economic downturn caused the last Republican president and his family to lose political power-over-others.
The covenant of bad works, which allows leaders to temporarily—and only temporarily—escape from natural justice, breeds incompetence, cruelty and narcissism. As a result, crises erupt as slowly evolving consequences created by the Earth and humanity respond to the quick, short-lived force of power-over. The suffering this causes breaks people out of their shells of denial and they reject the delusions they had about their hero, finally seeing that the emperor has no clothes.
Considering the likely political outcome of this crisis, I thought of a simple “equation”: Trump = W. The two individuals are twin tips of an iceberg of the same large hierarchy of white violent men, money-chasers and puritans. Hierarchies like these dominate the societies of most nations, living out the same story retold over the millennia of patriarchies: They ruthlessly gain power-over others, bring about suffering and injustice while ignoring real challenges until a crisis cause them to fall unexpectedly. It is a story of the larger human world that is witnessed, recounted, ignored and witnessed again. But it is not an indictment of a few very power-overful men; it is a measure by which money-chasers, violent men and puritans blame problems on the leaders they choose, rather than the lifestyle and goals that cause them to choose those leaders.
While the crisis in the larger human world grew, in our small and unimportant lives my wife and I sowed our garden under dark skies, as we have during spring for over a decade. Turning over the soil, adding compost and manure, and planting lettuces, arugula, mustard, spinach, kale, beets, carrots, turnips, onions and peas, we quietly took part in the cycle of life and renewal. The feel of cool, wet soil on my hands as we planted precious food gave me comfort and joy. While the human world careens into chaos and crisis, the simple acts of bringing forth life give both our bodies and our spirits strength. The hardships of the mortal world bring on threats and worries, but being embedded in the Earthly river of life gives practical meaning to each and every day. In two months our garden will be providing us life-giving food each day—a precious gift of the Earthly flow of life into eternity.
Acting with Faith During the Season of Cold Darkness
As the rapidly fading sunlight has brought long nights of darkness, the Earth has begun to fall asleep. Late autumn flowers, including yellow, purple and white Mums, fuchsia and purple Morning Glories and golden and red Marigolds, bloom in the fading light, with bees and other insects scrambling for the last harvest of sweet nectar before the cold darkness overtakes the light. Meanwhile, leaves and seed pods lay on the ground, to decay during the coming winter and renew life in the seemingly distant spring. We have gathered the last of our herbs of lemon balm and oregano and hung them to dry and stored potatoes, sweet potatoes, turnips, beets, onions, and garlic in preparation for the season of need. Using filling from a pumpkin in our garden, we have made a couple of seasonal pies, celebrating the abundance that remains.
The dark, cold night of Halloween, marked by ghosts, goblins and scares mixed with treats, is a time that we ritually prepare for going inward while the Earth sleeps. For animals like us, the cold darkness of winter is a time of scarcity, hardship, and death. Food, warmth, and other crucial aspects of life will be in short supply. This winter, as we go within our homes, many people feel especially threatened. The pandemic that has ravaged the human world continues with even greater vigor and the Halloween rituals reminding us that the season of death is approaching are especially meaningful now. At the same time, our country undergoes another election, continuing to divide our communities into deeply opposing camps with both sides fearing the dangerous, amoral other who are fellow citizens of a supposedly United States.
While the near future, and the future for of generations to come, is uncertain at best and dangerously challenging at worst, I am reflecting on my choice this year to act on faith more than in past years. Acting on faith means knowing that I am on a path, with moral and spiritual goals that I need to maintain. If a storm blows up during an ocean voyage, it would do me little good to permanently change my destination. The coming challenges is certainly a storm that threatens many people and our faith that our world will sustain us.
I have the benefit of age and experience to temper my expectations. In my late fifties, I have already undergone some of the worst things that I will have to endure. I spent a year absolutely convinced that I was condemned for all of eternity without hope of redemption. I spent another year with clinical depression so deep that the pain was more than emotional, it was felt in my physical body. These times have long past. More recently, I have experienced the death of my dearly beloved mother and the death of my dearly beloved mother-in-law. All these soul-withering times have come and gone and I reflect, as a person in this hard and wonderful world, that I am one of the luckiest and most fortunate people I know. So many people go through far worse and have not been nearly as lucky as I have been.
Despite this, I have failed to be who I should be as a decent human being and a loving family member and friend many times, especially when I was younger and still sometimes recently, including a few days ago. For all my own good fortune, I cannot point to a single instance that makes me a better person than many others I know; rather, I am certain that I have been a moral failure more than once, yet I have been given the opportunity to be a better person, to seek amends to the best of my ability, and to contribute in a positive way to those I love and those around me. These gifts, opportunities and good fortune helps strengthen my faith and my commitment to stay on the course of good works and social and economic justice while doing as little harm as I possibly can.
While I have been on this life journey for decades, the day-to-day is equally important and in the last few years I have meditated and prayed only a little, while my temperamental nature has grown. Prayer and meditation, especially in this dark, inward season, can provide a daily means to increase my own calm and improve the way that I treat those around me. If I am to hope for the love I have for others to be returned to me, it is important for me to act with love towards them. During this time of suffering and uncertainty, it is more important than ever that I calm my worries of the moment and I find ways to act with consideration first and foremost to those around me.
Acting on faith is calling the strength, in the certainty of future suffering and loss, to do what I can to make the future better for all the future generations and all people and lives. And, with this commitment, to celebrate the good fortune I have, living in a web of life where the Covenant of Good Works holds sway. My good fortunate calls me to act to help others whose do not have such privileges, and to care for the future of all children in this coming time of darkness and loss.
The 11th step of the 12th steps speaks of seeking through prayer and meditation to improve my conscious contact with the Deity as I understand that Deity, praying only for knowledge of the Deity’s will for us and the strength to carry that out. As someone raised with a healthy skepticism about spirituality, I have to say I don’t know if a Deity or an afterlife exists—if so, I know my own feeble mind existing for a tiny moment in eternity cannot possible fathom such an entity. But I do witness a spiritual world in my daily life, and I know that in communion with that mysterious spirit I can find strength and a sense of the best path to follow.
I observe a spiritual world in my daily life and am witness to the improvements made in the world through loving and peaceful spiritual movements, such as the women’s suffrage campaign, the Indian independence movement led by Mohandas Gandhi, the civil rights movement led by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., the liberation of South Africa led by Nelson Mandala, and the example and strength of the Tibetan people led by the Dalai Lama. These multitudes of people, peacefully and courageously acting on faith, have sent out waves of light and liberation that have touched me personally and, through their sacrifices, made my world and me better. I and many others can call on this strength to commit to our spiritual journeys for peace and justice, to make this mortal world better for those we love and all children of the world.
The dark, cold night of Halloween, marked by ghosts, goblins and scares mixed with treats, is a time that we ritually prepare for going inward while the Earth sleeps. For animals like us, the cold darkness of winter is a time of scarcity, hardship, and death. Food, warmth, and other crucial aspects of life will be in short supply. This winter, as we go within our homes, many people feel especially threatened. The pandemic that has ravaged the human world continues with even greater vigor and the Halloween rituals reminding us that the season of death is approaching are especially meaningful now. At the same time, our country undergoes another election, continuing to divide our communities into deeply opposing camps with both sides fearing the dangerous, amoral other who are fellow citizens of a supposedly United States.
While the near future, and the future for of generations to come, is uncertain at best and dangerously challenging at worst, I am reflecting on my choice this year to act on faith more than in past years. Acting on faith means knowing that I am on a path, with moral and spiritual goals that I need to maintain. If a storm blows up during an ocean voyage, it would do me little good to permanently change my destination. The coming challenges is certainly a storm that threatens many people and our faith that our world will sustain us.
I have the benefit of age and experience to temper my expectations. In my late fifties, I have already undergone some of the worst things that I will have to endure. I spent a year absolutely convinced that I was condemned for all of eternity without hope of redemption. I spent another year with clinical depression so deep that the pain was more than emotional, it was felt in my physical body. These times have long past. More recently, I have experienced the death of my dearly beloved mother and the death of my dearly beloved mother-in-law. All these soul-withering times have come and gone and I reflect, as a person in this hard and wonderful world, that I am one of the luckiest and most fortunate people I know. So many people go through far worse and have not been nearly as lucky as I have been.
Despite this, I have failed to be who I should be as a decent human being and a loving family member and friend many times, especially when I was younger and still sometimes recently, including a few days ago. For all my own good fortune, I cannot point to a single instance that makes me a better person than many others I know; rather, I am certain that I have been a moral failure more than once, yet I have been given the opportunity to be a better person, to seek amends to the best of my ability, and to contribute in a positive way to those I love and those around me. These gifts, opportunities and good fortune helps strengthen my faith and my commitment to stay on the course of good works and social and economic justice while doing as little harm as I possibly can.
While I have been on this life journey for decades, the day-to-day is equally important and in the last few years I have meditated and prayed only a little, while my temperamental nature has grown. Prayer and meditation, especially in this dark, inward season, can provide a daily means to increase my own calm and improve the way that I treat those around me. If I am to hope for the love I have for others to be returned to me, it is important for me to act with love towards them. During this time of suffering and uncertainty, it is more important than ever that I calm my worries of the moment and I find ways to act with consideration first and foremost to those around me.
Acting on faith is calling the strength, in the certainty of future suffering and loss, to do what I can to make the future better for all the future generations and all people and lives. And, with this commitment, to celebrate the good fortune I have, living in a web of life where the Covenant of Good Works holds sway. My good fortunate calls me to act to help others whose do not have such privileges, and to care for the future of all children in this coming time of darkness and loss.
The 11th step of the 12th steps speaks of seeking through prayer and meditation to improve my conscious contact with the Deity as I understand that Deity, praying only for knowledge of the Deity’s will for us and the strength to carry that out. As someone raised with a healthy skepticism about spirituality, I have to say I don’t know if a Deity or an afterlife exists—if so, I know my own feeble mind existing for a tiny moment in eternity cannot possible fathom such an entity. But I do witness a spiritual world in my daily life, and I know that in communion with that mysterious spirit I can find strength and a sense of the best path to follow.
I observe a spiritual world in my daily life and am witness to the improvements made in the world through loving and peaceful spiritual movements, such as the women’s suffrage campaign, the Indian independence movement led by Mohandas Gandhi, the civil rights movement led by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., the liberation of South Africa led by Nelson Mandala, and the example and strength of the Tibetan people led by the Dalai Lama. These multitudes of people, peacefully and courageously acting on faith, have sent out waves of light and liberation that have touched me personally and, through their sacrifices, made my world and me better. I and many others can call on this strength to commit to our spiritual journeys for peace and justice, to make this mortal world better for those we love and all children of the world.
Acting with Faith During the Season of Cold Darkness
As the rapidly fading sunlight has brought long nights of darkness, the Earth has begun to fall asleep. Late autumn flowers, including yellow, purple and white Mums, fuchsia and purple Morning Glories and golden and red Marigolds, bloom in the fading light, with bees and other insects scrambling for the last harvest of sweet nectar before the cold darkness overtakes the light. Meanwhile, leaves and seed pods lay on the ground, to decay during the coming winter and renew life in the seemingly distant spring. We have gathered the last of our herbs of lemon balm and oregano and hung them to dry and stored potatoes, sweet potatoes, turnips, beets, onions, and garlic in preparation for the season of need. Using filling from a pumpkin in our garden, we have made a couple of seasonal pies, celebrating the abundance that remains.
The dark, cold night of Halloween, marked by ghosts, goblins and scares mixed with treats, is a time that we ritually prepare for going inward while the Earth sleeps. For animals like us, the cold darkness of winter is a time of scarcity, hardship, and death. Food, warmth, and other crucial aspects of life will be in short supply. This winter, as we go within our homes, many people feel especially threatened. The pandemic that has ravaged the human world continues with even greater vigor and the Halloween rituals reminding us that the season of death is approaching are especially meaningful now. At the same time, our country undergoes another election, continuing to divide our communities into deeply opposing camps with both sides fearing the dangerous, amoral other who are fellow citizens of a supposedly United States.
While the near future, and the future for of generations to come, is uncertain at best and dangerously challenging at worst, I am reflecting on my choice this year to act on faith more than in past years. Acting on faith means knowing that I am on a path, with moral and spiritual goals that I need to maintain. If a storm blows up during an ocean voyage, it would do me little good to permanently change my destination. The coming challenges is certainly a storm that threatens many people and our faith that our world will sustain us.
I have the benefit of age and experience to temper my expectations. In my late fifties, I have already undergone some of the worst things that I will have to endure. I spent a year absolutely convinced that I was condemned for all of eternity without hope of redemption. I spent another year with clinical depression so deep that the pain was more than emotional, it was felt in my physical body. These times have long past. More recently, I have experienced the death of my dearly beloved mother and the death of my dearly beloved mother-in-law. All these soul-withering times have come and gone and I reflect, as a person in this hard and wonderful world, that I am one of the luckiest and most fortunate people I know. So many people go through far worse and have not been nearly as lucky as I have been.
Despite this, I have failed to be who I should be as a decent human being and a loving family member and friend many times, especially when I was younger and still sometimes recently, including a few days ago. For all my own good fortune, I cannot point to a single instance that makes me a better person than many others I know; rather, I am certain that I have been a moral failure more than once, yet I have been given the opportunity to be a better person, to seek amends to the best of my ability, and to contribute in a positive way to those I love and those around me. These gifts, opportunities and good fortune helps strengthen my faith and my commitment to stay on the course of good works and social and economic justice while doing as little harm as I possibly can.
While I have been on this life journey for decades, the day-to-day is equally important and in the last few years I have meditated and prayed only a little, while my temperamental nature has grown. Prayer and meditation, especially in this dark, inward season, can provide a daily means to increase my own calm and improve the way that I treat those around me. If I am to hope for the love I have for others to be returned to me, it is important for me to act with love towards them. During this time of suffering and uncertainty, it is more important than ever that I calm my worries of the moment and I find ways to act with consideration first and foremost to those around me.
Acting on faith is calling the strength, in the certainty of future suffering and loss, to do what I can to make the future better for all the future generations and all people and lives. And, with this commitment, to celebrate the good fortune I have, living in a web of life where the Covenant of Good Works holds sway. My good fortunate calls me to act to help others whose do not have such privileges, and to care for the future of all children in this coming time of darkness and loss.
The 11th step of the 12th steps speaks of seeking through prayer and meditation to improve my conscious contact with the Deity as I understand that Deity, praying only for knowledge of the Deity’s will for us and the strength to carry that out. As someone raised with a healthy skepticism about spirituality, I have to say I don’t know if a Deity or an afterlife exists—if so, I know my own feeble mind existing for a tiny moment in eternity cannot possible fathom such an entity. But I do witness a spiritual world in my daily life, and I know that in communion with that mysterious spirit I can find strength and a sense of the best path to follow.
I observe a spiritual world in my daily life and am witness to the improvements made in the world through loving and peaceful spiritual movements, such as the women’s suffrage campaign, the Indian independence movement led by Mohandas Gandhi, the civil rights movement led by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., the liberation of South Africa led by Nelson Mandala, and the example and strength of the Tibetan people led by the Dalai Lama. These multitudes of people, peacefully and courageously acting on faith, have sent out waves of light and liberation that have touched me personally and, through their sacrifices, made my world and me better. I and many others can call on this strength to commit to our spiritual journeys for peace and justice, to make this mortal world better for those we love and all children of the world.
The dark, cold night of Halloween, marked by ghosts, goblins and scares mixed with treats, is a time that we ritually prepare for going inward while the Earth sleeps. For animals like us, the cold darkness of winter is a time of scarcity, hardship, and death. Food, warmth, and other crucial aspects of life will be in short supply. This winter, as we go within our homes, many people feel especially threatened. The pandemic that has ravaged the human world continues with even greater vigor and the Halloween rituals reminding us that the season of death is approaching are especially meaningful now. At the same time, our country undergoes another election, continuing to divide our communities into deeply opposing camps with both sides fearing the dangerous, amoral other who are fellow citizens of a supposedly United States.
While the near future, and the future for of generations to come, is uncertain at best and dangerously challenging at worst, I am reflecting on my choice this year to act on faith more than in past years. Acting on faith means knowing that I am on a path, with moral and spiritual goals that I need to maintain. If a storm blows up during an ocean voyage, it would do me little good to permanently change my destination. The coming challenges is certainly a storm that threatens many people and our faith that our world will sustain us.
I have the benefit of age and experience to temper my expectations. In my late fifties, I have already undergone some of the worst things that I will have to endure. I spent a year absolutely convinced that I was condemned for all of eternity without hope of redemption. I spent another year with clinical depression so deep that the pain was more than emotional, it was felt in my physical body. These times have long past. More recently, I have experienced the death of my dearly beloved mother and the death of my dearly beloved mother-in-law. All these soul-withering times have come and gone and I reflect, as a person in this hard and wonderful world, that I am one of the luckiest and most fortunate people I know. So many people go through far worse and have not been nearly as lucky as I have been.
Despite this, I have failed to be who I should be as a decent human being and a loving family member and friend many times, especially when I was younger and still sometimes recently, including a few days ago. For all my own good fortune, I cannot point to a single instance that makes me a better person than many others I know; rather, I am certain that I have been a moral failure more than once, yet I have been given the opportunity to be a better person, to seek amends to the best of my ability, and to contribute in a positive way to those I love and those around me. These gifts, opportunities and good fortune helps strengthen my faith and my commitment to stay on the course of good works and social and economic justice while doing as little harm as I possibly can.
While I have been on this life journey for decades, the day-to-day is equally important and in the last few years I have meditated and prayed only a little, while my temperamental nature has grown. Prayer and meditation, especially in this dark, inward season, can provide a daily means to increase my own calm and improve the way that I treat those around me. If I am to hope for the love I have for others to be returned to me, it is important for me to act with love towards them. During this time of suffering and uncertainty, it is more important than ever that I calm my worries of the moment and I find ways to act with consideration first and foremost to those around me.
Acting on faith is calling the strength, in the certainty of future suffering and loss, to do what I can to make the future better for all the future generations and all people and lives. And, with this commitment, to celebrate the good fortune I have, living in a web of life where the Covenant of Good Works holds sway. My good fortunate calls me to act to help others whose do not have such privileges, and to care for the future of all children in this coming time of darkness and loss.
The 11th step of the 12th steps speaks of seeking through prayer and meditation to improve my conscious contact with the Deity as I understand that Deity, praying only for knowledge of the Deity’s will for us and the strength to carry that out. As someone raised with a healthy skepticism about spirituality, I have to say I don’t know if a Deity or an afterlife exists—if so, I know my own feeble mind existing for a tiny moment in eternity cannot possible fathom such an entity. But I do witness a spiritual world in my daily life, and I know that in communion with that mysterious spirit I can find strength and a sense of the best path to follow.
I observe a spiritual world in my daily life and am witness to the improvements made in the world through loving and peaceful spiritual movements, such as the women’s suffrage campaign, the Indian independence movement led by Mohandas Gandhi, the civil rights movement led by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., the liberation of South Africa led by Nelson Mandala, and the example and strength of the Tibetan people led by the Dalai Lama. These multitudes of people, peacefully and courageously acting on faith, have sent out waves of light and liberation that have touched me personally and, through their sacrifices, made my world and me better. I and many others can call on this strength to commit to our spiritual journeys for peace and justice, to make this mortal world better for those we love and all children of the world.
Strengthening the Hearth at Solstice
The slow, steady growth of darkness of the approaching winter has made for two snowfalls in December, giving beauty to the cold season. Once the solstice passes, the changing season will slowly bring new light even as the winter, lagging behind the light, will likely become colder and harsher before the awakening of spring.
We continue to feed birds and squirrels in the winter feeders, providing some food during the scarce season. On days where our granddaughter sleeps over, the toddler delights in feeding the birds and watching as they and a squirrel or two gathers to eat.
“Look, it’s Squirrel Nutkin!” I tell her, referring to a mischievous character from the young girl’s Beatrix Potter stories. Our granddaughter goes to the window and watches with delight, expressing her glee by chattering mixed with high-pitched squeals of joy.
Some older people in families, remembering disappointments about losing the enchantment of the Earth when they discovered that Santa Claus was a fake and forgery manufactured by deceitful parents, play down the magical world that children seem to live in. Having never really believed in Santa Claus myself, I am on the other end of the spectrum and excitedly tell the impressionable young one fable after fable of Santa Claus, elves, reindeer, and sleighs flying through beautiful, starry skies onto snow-covered rooftops.
“It’s easy to get into the spirit of Christmas when you have children in your life,” I told my wife, who, as usual, was busy with many Christmas decorating, craft, and baking projects.
”Um-hmm,” she replied, “It sure is,” diplomatically failing to point out that she shares the joy of the holiday with our family through hard work making the season special for all of us, while I often retreat into journaling and self-reflection. It is that work of family, hearth and home that makes so much possible in our lives, yet she has not been paid a dime for all her decades of devotion.
Like the traditional roles of family in our culture, my contribution to the season includes providing money from work in the outside world, small help with planning and a little baking. Since Christmas is, more than any other Christian holiday, a celebration of children, it is inevitable that women in our culture are more apt to focus it than men.
Like my own slow centering on Christmas, in Western history the holiday seems to be one way that patriarchy has begun to awaken to the joys of children. Beginning with an ennoblement of a special child deserving gifts and providing humanity with tremendous blessings, the birth of the son of Christmas, occurring at the rebirth of the Sun, deifies a child. So children are to old people such as my wife and I, who find solace and purpose in the joys of a grandchild while we face the loss of loved ones in our families and friends.
The story of the birth of a god at Winter Solstice, only to suffer death later in the year, is a retelling of stories of solar and human birth-death-rebirth stories like Hercules and Samson, as was common in the ancient world. The ennoblement of the child in the story of Jesus is an important improvement over what the prophets of the Babylonian Captivity, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, rightly called the abomination of child sacrifice that the Hebrews, like many warfare societies, practiced to please their god. This ennoblement of the sacrificial lamb, slowly growing in our history like the light following the darkness of the solstice, brought with it gifts not to a church or a shrine, but to our own children and families. Patriarchs have slowly, unconsciously begun recognized to recognize the sacredness of the lives of those in our families, celebrating our love for them in the indulgence of the magic of Christmas. In doing so, patriarchs and patriarchy have begun to awaken to one of the many long-neglected joyous responsibilities of the Feminine.
Following a hodgepodge of traditions and rituals, ranging from stockings and Christmas trees to following the death and rebirth of sunlight at the solstice, I consider the intention I make for the slowly coming year. Last year, I chose to act on faith. That decision led me into a whirlwind of career change, whose effects I will only be able to judge in time. The decision, like my self-reflection at the solstice, focused on my life and aspirations and only grudgingly, if at all, recognized my family and the crucial role they play in my life.
Accordingly, my intention for the new year is a three-fold reflection of my growing faith:
To have faith in my family
To create boundaries between myself and toxicity and toxic people
To focus on eliminating toxicity of thought, word, and deed within me
It seems to me that this is the best way I can improve as a member of my family. Talking about this to a twelve-step group I’m a member of, I said that it seems that this is the essence of the teachings of the Twelve Steps. After acting on faith to make a change in the outer world, it is crucial that the next change be within me, especially within my heart. According to many faiths, change within our hearts have the greatest ability to transform our lives as we face the hard human world in the slowly growing light of the cold, lustrous winter.
We continue to feed birds and squirrels in the winter feeders, providing some food during the scarce season. On days where our granddaughter sleeps over, the toddler delights in feeding the birds and watching as they and a squirrel or two gathers to eat.
“Look, it’s Squirrel Nutkin!” I tell her, referring to a mischievous character from the young girl’s Beatrix Potter stories. Our granddaughter goes to the window and watches with delight, expressing her glee by chattering mixed with high-pitched squeals of joy.
Some older people in families, remembering disappointments about losing the enchantment of the Earth when they discovered that Santa Claus was a fake and forgery manufactured by deceitful parents, play down the magical world that children seem to live in. Having never really believed in Santa Claus myself, I am on the other end of the spectrum and excitedly tell the impressionable young one fable after fable of Santa Claus, elves, reindeer, and sleighs flying through beautiful, starry skies onto snow-covered rooftops.
“It’s easy to get into the spirit of Christmas when you have children in your life,” I told my wife, who, as usual, was busy with many Christmas decorating, craft, and baking projects.
”Um-hmm,” she replied, “It sure is,” diplomatically failing to point out that she shares the joy of the holiday with our family through hard work making the season special for all of us, while I often retreat into journaling and self-reflection. It is that work of family, hearth and home that makes so much possible in our lives, yet she has not been paid a dime for all her decades of devotion.
Like the traditional roles of family in our culture, my contribution to the season includes providing money from work in the outside world, small help with planning and a little baking. Since Christmas is, more than any other Christian holiday, a celebration of children, it is inevitable that women in our culture are more apt to focus it than men.
Like my own slow centering on Christmas, in Western history the holiday seems to be one way that patriarchy has begun to awaken to the joys of children. Beginning with an ennoblement of a special child deserving gifts and providing humanity with tremendous blessings, the birth of the son of Christmas, occurring at the rebirth of the Sun, deifies a child. So children are to old people such as my wife and I, who find solace and purpose in the joys of a grandchild while we face the loss of loved ones in our families and friends.
The story of the birth of a god at Winter Solstice, only to suffer death later in the year, is a retelling of stories of solar and human birth-death-rebirth stories like Hercules and Samson, as was common in the ancient world. The ennoblement of the child in the story of Jesus is an important improvement over what the prophets of the Babylonian Captivity, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, rightly called the abomination of child sacrifice that the Hebrews, like many warfare societies, practiced to please their god. This ennoblement of the sacrificial lamb, slowly growing in our history like the light following the darkness of the solstice, brought with it gifts not to a church or a shrine, but to our own children and families. Patriarchs have slowly, unconsciously begun recognized to recognize the sacredness of the lives of those in our families, celebrating our love for them in the indulgence of the magic of Christmas. In doing so, patriarchs and patriarchy have begun to awaken to one of the many long-neglected joyous responsibilities of the Feminine.
Following a hodgepodge of traditions and rituals, ranging from stockings and Christmas trees to following the death and rebirth of sunlight at the solstice, I consider the intention I make for the slowly coming year. Last year, I chose to act on faith. That decision led me into a whirlwind of career change, whose effects I will only be able to judge in time. The decision, like my self-reflection at the solstice, focused on my life and aspirations and only grudgingly, if at all, recognized my family and the crucial role they play in my life.
Accordingly, my intention for the new year is a three-fold reflection of my growing faith:
To have faith in my family
To create boundaries between myself and toxicity and toxic people
To focus on eliminating toxicity of thought, word, and deed within me
It seems to me that this is the best way I can improve as a member of my family. Talking about this to a twelve-step group I’m a member of, I said that it seems that this is the essence of the teachings of the Twelve Steps. After acting on faith to make a change in the outer world, it is crucial that the next change be within me, especially within my heart. According to many faiths, change within our hearts have the greatest ability to transform our lives as we face the hard human world in the slowly growing light of the cold, lustrous winter.
Past Death
As the rapidly increasing sunlight is accompanied by global warming’s unnaturally increasing warmth, the soil of the Earth has warmed more than previous winters. Daffodils, normally flowering in mid or late March, are, one-by-one, blooming in response. I tell our granddaughter that the Daffodils are part of the Earth waking up early.
“Silly Daffodils!” she exclaims, “What do they think they are doing?”
Accompanying the early Daffodils are bright yellow Crocuses and a purple Miniature Iris, all weeks ahead of their normal time. For our friend who harvests Maple Syrup, the unseasonably warmth causes the sap to be ruined by the trees budding, and for local orchards that risk loss of early flowering crops like peaches when the temperatures suddenly decline, these changes to our climate are risks to their livelihoods.
Though in most years we sow peas in early or mid-March, in a few years of warmer temperatures we sow our first peas on Valentine’s Day, a tradition from Northern Kentucky that a friend told us about. Since we babysat our granddaughter on the 14th, we invited her to join us in the planting, which she always wants to do.
“The Earth adjusts,” I say as she, my wife, and I sow the peas, “So we need to be smart and adjust to the weather.”
At four, my words pass through her like cottonwood floating on a light breeze, only faintly recognized as she focuses on poking the wrinkled, green peas into the soft, warm Earth. In her innocence, she has no knowledge of the challenges she will face or the seeds I hope to plant in her mind early in her life in preparation for them.
In our home, we continue to have seasonal meals, including a cream of sunchoke-potato winter warmer that I made during one of our brief downturns of cold temperatures, and a curried cabbage tofu stir-fry made almost entirely from stored items. We also continue to renew our practice of home brewing. The day after Valentine’s Day we bottled our Honey Golden ale in preparation for opening on May Day. Meanwhile, the Rye Stout we brewed a few days before bubbles and gurgles as it ferments in the ale pales.
As our granddaughter’s understanding of the world around her has grown, she has begun to be conscious of death, which is common for four-year-olds like herself. She stumbles onto the realization bit by bit, not yet realizing in what will be a traumatic moment, that her deeply beloved and desperately needed parents will someday die. In preparation for this growing understanding that she lives in a mortal world, her parents and we tell her that everything returns to the Earth, to become the soil from which we came. I also tell her, as part of the stories about the seasons, that the leaves fall and become soil, from which new leaves form and trees turn the soil into life, then fall and rot to become the ground that will feed new trees.
“So, that’s forever, in a way,” I add.
I also talk to her about dreams, which she hadn’t heard of before, so I explain they are stories she sees while she sleeps and when she wakes up she finds out they haven’t happened. I tell her about dreams coming true, like when her Grandmother dreamed she found a missing earring under my couch and walked into my apartment and immediately spotted the earring where she had dreamed it was. Slowly, as much as her young mind can understand, I hope to strengthen her perception of intuition and other aspects of the Spirit in Daily Life, which people can witness first-hand if they watch coincidences, intuitive events, and other mystical aspects of everyday life.
But what follows after we pass back to the soil? I know that no one can answer this fully and I try not to answer it at all—I have witnessed the Spirit in Daily Life firsthand for decades, but I only know brief reports from people who have died and returned, and I am content to recognize the mystery at the edge of my knowledge.
However, death for our four-year-old granddaughter is a still emerging and far distant part of life. For me, as an elder, I am hopeful that I will pass long before my stepchildren and step-granddaughter. But, as an elder, my role is to think into the future far past my own meaningless death and into anticipating the needs of my granddaughter, her family, and the community and Earth around them.
In our self-centered modern culture, the elder phase of life has been mistaken for a time of growing infirmity and irrelevance for the younger people. Yet, we are the creators of the world that future generations will be born into.
While most of the larger human world’s future is out of my control, I can still aid my granddaughter’s community by devoting these years to fostering more resiliency, more sustainability, and a stronger, more mutually supportive community for her and the other children in our community.
Money-chasers think of leaving legacies of wealth for their children, which is a virtuous act as long as the wealth does not come from harming the Earth or other people, or results in imbalances of power-over. Violent men think of expanding their nation’s power-over, often resulting in endless wars and traditional hatreds. Sensitive people offer works of art that they hope to be remembered for. To guide action as an elder for what I hope to provide past my death, I turn to the Essential:
The children must be cared for.
The community must help the parents in their work.
The community must live in lasting harmony with other communities.
The communities must live in sustainable harmony with the natural communities around them.
This journey into the future past my own death can be joyous and filled with heavenly moments by taking part in the Earthly River of Life that flows from Essential practices. Like sharing the sowing of peas into the rich Earth with my loved ones, living in harmony with the Essential gives strength in the face of our mortal world and helps provide gifts for an uncertain future.
“Silly Daffodils!” she exclaims, “What do they think they are doing?”
Accompanying the early Daffodils are bright yellow Crocuses and a purple Miniature Iris, all weeks ahead of their normal time. For our friend who harvests Maple Syrup, the unseasonably warmth causes the sap to be ruined by the trees budding, and for local orchards that risk loss of early flowering crops like peaches when the temperatures suddenly decline, these changes to our climate are risks to their livelihoods.
Though in most years we sow peas in early or mid-March, in a few years of warmer temperatures we sow our first peas on Valentine’s Day, a tradition from Northern Kentucky that a friend told us about. Since we babysat our granddaughter on the 14th, we invited her to join us in the planting, which she always wants to do.
“The Earth adjusts,” I say as she, my wife, and I sow the peas, “So we need to be smart and adjust to the weather.”
At four, my words pass through her like cottonwood floating on a light breeze, only faintly recognized as she focuses on poking the wrinkled, green peas into the soft, warm Earth. In her innocence, she has no knowledge of the challenges she will face or the seeds I hope to plant in her mind early in her life in preparation for them.
In our home, we continue to have seasonal meals, including a cream of sunchoke-potato winter warmer that I made during one of our brief downturns of cold temperatures, and a curried cabbage tofu stir-fry made almost entirely from stored items. We also continue to renew our practice of home brewing. The day after Valentine’s Day we bottled our Honey Golden ale in preparation for opening on May Day. Meanwhile, the Rye Stout we brewed a few days before bubbles and gurgles as it ferments in the ale pales.
As our granddaughter’s understanding of the world around her has grown, she has begun to be conscious of death, which is common for four-year-olds like herself. She stumbles onto the realization bit by bit, not yet realizing in what will be a traumatic moment, that her deeply beloved and desperately needed parents will someday die. In preparation for this growing understanding that she lives in a mortal world, her parents and we tell her that everything returns to the Earth, to become the soil from which we came. I also tell her, as part of the stories about the seasons, that the leaves fall and become soil, from which new leaves form and trees turn the soil into life, then fall and rot to become the ground that will feed new trees.
“So, that’s forever, in a way,” I add.
I also talk to her about dreams, which she hadn’t heard of before, so I explain they are stories she sees while she sleeps and when she wakes up she finds out they haven’t happened. I tell her about dreams coming true, like when her Grandmother dreamed she found a missing earring under my couch and walked into my apartment and immediately spotted the earring where she had dreamed it was. Slowly, as much as her young mind can understand, I hope to strengthen her perception of intuition and other aspects of the Spirit in Daily Life, which people can witness first-hand if they watch coincidences, intuitive events, and other mystical aspects of everyday life.
But what follows after we pass back to the soil? I know that no one can answer this fully and I try not to answer it at all—I have witnessed the Spirit in Daily Life firsthand for decades, but I only know brief reports from people who have died and returned, and I am content to recognize the mystery at the edge of my knowledge.
However, death for our four-year-old granddaughter is a still emerging and far distant part of life. For me, as an elder, I am hopeful that I will pass long before my stepchildren and step-granddaughter. But, as an elder, my role is to think into the future far past my own meaningless death and into anticipating the needs of my granddaughter, her family, and the community and Earth around them.
In our self-centered modern culture, the elder phase of life has been mistaken for a time of growing infirmity and irrelevance for the younger people. Yet, we are the creators of the world that future generations will be born into.
While most of the larger human world’s future is out of my control, I can still aid my granddaughter’s community by devoting these years to fostering more resiliency, more sustainability, and a stronger, more mutually supportive community for her and the other children in our community.
Money-chasers think of leaving legacies of wealth for their children, which is a virtuous act as long as the wealth does not come from harming the Earth or other people, or results in imbalances of power-over. Violent men think of expanding their nation’s power-over, often resulting in endless wars and traditional hatreds. Sensitive people offer works of art that they hope to be remembered for. To guide action as an elder for what I hope to provide past my death, I turn to the Essential:
The children must be cared for.
The community must help the parents in their work.
The community must live in lasting harmony with other communities.
The communities must live in sustainable harmony with the natural communities around them.
This journey into the future past my own death can be joyous and filled with heavenly moments by taking part in the Earthly River of Life that flows from Essential practices. Like sharing the sowing of peas into the rich Earth with my loved ones, living in harmony with the Essential gives strength in the face of our mortal world and helps provide gifts for an uncertain future.
The River of Life
We are all born into a river of life that has created us from unfathomable generations of life before us and is likely to continue in some form for eons past our own time. Taking part in this Earthly
...more
- Milt Greek's profile
- 10 followers
