Category Archive

christ it’s 1:18 already? been up writing, working on the ad school app, flirting with creative directors and such; my mom has a migraine. and a sinus infection. the brothers and I have offered to get her green many a time, but she’s persistently resistant. so i drew a bath and pressed her eyebrows to relieve the pressure. She says it’s working. I say more drugs. Pharma or medicinal.

God, decisions decisions. I feel my creative juices to be running lower than ever have before. Which is strange, because I haven’t been writing this consistently, or working on being creative as much as I have in recent weeks. What do I need? to explore, travel, see more. I’m feeling India. It’s feeling me. it calls me, while I’m sleeping. naked. under the covers. wearing nothing but my leg hair.

I’m really excited for the food.

I am in somewhat of a crux though…If work doesn’t pan out, I’m doing these applications then getting the hell out of this country for a while. Till school starts. Hopefully. And if that doesn’t work out as I’ve planned, then, so be it. I’m tired of all this planning.

On the lady front…Things are good, complicated complicated complicated.  I wish I had experience in this whole relationship thing..Or at least more practice. I question whether I’m doing things right. Where the fuck is the manual? Nowhere.  If you could win a rabbit, rabbit or habit, rabbit or whales. it’s funny. i’ve made  my fair share of mistakes in past relationships. Did I learn from them? Am I doomed to repeat them like a bad re-run of Who’s The Boss? Me: filled with hope that my intentions are coming through loud and clear  on the relationship radar. that and a fair understanding that I’m not perfect, I need a fair amount of training and being told what to do (which, let’s face it, is hard for a semi-control freak like myself), and patience, patience, patience. I don’t get things right the first time, but try to repeat my mistakes. before they’re too late.

confused. I need the forest. and space cookies.

santa barbara the city the city of everything normalcy familiarity wordness to flagstaff the hippie heat of the farmers market crushed blackberry and sun dried tomato cheese please ‘thanks for the vegetables!’ so we can eat lunch. to sante fe alberqurque we’re stepping in this bus. oh the bus, moishe’s mobile compressed trapped heat sleeping in contorted and distorted shapes the bodies of these determined fish in a fishbowl under inspection by the 8 mm makeshift breakfasts and mobile blogging avocados the where to goes on this, this endless road of nothingness and green pasture, god’s heartland and america’s armpit. here we go now, here we go now, in oklahoma city, dead center, the new eco beacon for the townsfolk. sweat steam barometric aromatechtric pressure rising, rising, rising— 

today i awoke at 12:10. poetically pathetic, the repercussions of slumbers neglect. why is that your consumer spending tendencies rise dramatically at times when you’re not working? shouldn’t that be the opposite? more money in the bank, more in your pocket. there must be some unspoken social behavior i’m not seeing. in my case i bought a bike. a 21″ Specialized RockHopper with disc brakes, what I like to call ‘testicle saving shorts’ a jersey with the bike store’s logo (he said it was the cheapest, best option) and even a helmet (i made do with the normal size…my enlarged cranium proved not a hindrance to
my efforts to walk out of the store having spent less than 800 quid. that i managed. and the color? Firetruck Red in pride of, of course, firetrucks and firemen [and firewomen?] everywhere.

been reading Geoff Dye. He’s like david sedaris on drugs. travels to different places, does drugs at said places, meets people who like to do drugs, goes to drug festivals. it’s a classy book and highly recommended to those 10th grade teachers still undecided about their summer reading lists. it has a little bit of kerouac too, more unpretentious. he goes to new orleans and makes a friend who committed treason in the cold war, selling secrets to the reds over the border in berlin. and then they go driving. so simple, like plain cheesecake. you don’t need to add processed blueberries to make it good. you hear me baskin? what about you robbins?

grad program found! potentials at least. the MEM.

keeping up with the tai chi. planted an herb garden that’s ready to use. next come the vegetables. growing sage and rue in a torn apart toaster. it’s rad. i miss the farm at lotan though, to be honest.

what does it take to re-stabilize? reenter that familiar, fleeting space you were in, this lifetime or the previous one? im working on it, i’m working on it.

my hands are peeling. i dont really get it. i dont think its a fungus or anything. stress maybe? could anyone wikipedia this and tell me what they discoveR? its the fingers actually. my fingers are peeling, on both sides.  and that cant be attractive, especially when the eskimo is COURTING A LADY. she is winning his heart and the prospects look quite nice, quite lovely, that he is winning hers as well. i miss her already.

im travelling to bonnaroo, that super hippie festival of love and light, in a bus named the moishe mobile. short green bus, runs on veggie oil,  solar panels to keep us flying. we’re filming a doc, doing workshops, and driving through the south. have i ever mentioned that ive been to 4 continents but never driven past las vegas? i dont think ive ever even been between vegas and manhattan. what gives? a real crying shame, i agree.  sonow i get to see what real america is like…maybe ill visit flint and make a film about it.

the site, the project, the moishe mobile. 

i love you all. i love life. love is everything. love is all that matters. be good.

tonight is lag b’omer in israel. shimon bar yochai, famous kabbalist rabbi dies on this day hundreds of years ago, so all of israel’s youth gather and light massive pyres all over the city - chemically traeted and stained wood, plywood, shipping crates leaned against each other smoke pillowing throughout the sky its nice and bright but i’m suffocating, my mind choking in its own head rush of a bonfire, burning since thursday when i had to say goodbye yet again to the familiar…

the desert, the stillness, the air, the sand, the emptiness and fullness of it all, the simplicity of everything - whatever residual love of the arava valley desert i’ve been so faithfully cultivating in my heart has begun to decay at shocking uncontrollable speed.  tonight i stood amidst a mass of carnivores and barbecues,  surrounded by apartment buildings so tightly spaced together the moon was hiding. i was out in a park and yet claustrophobic, my only solace found in the advice of a friend, who said that ’simplicity is within, not out.’  i took a few more breaths of toxicity and left.

leaving lotan, leaving israel, the return to america, the orange walls of flame i saw tonight have reached up to chest level - i’m exhausted and running on auxiliaries right now - we’ve the swallowed stage everybody. its amazing how easy it is to get plugged back into the matrix, isn’t it? life was so simple, so slow, so nice just 72 hours ago.  affirmations were set, goals were made, and now like passing tel-aviv traffic on friday afternoons the priorities have shifted in space, alarmingly not as lucid as they once had seemed. and why? just when direction was being set and realized, does the prospect of an environmental graduate program frighten me? i researched the school (u of michigan) for a few happy minutes later but had to close the window. my focus has to be on leaving this place, processing what i already left, and figuring what to keep and take with me, and what i must leave behind.

it really is a hard space to be in, as i’m sure you know by now. being between countries, awaiting flights to transatlantic destinations feels like your heart mind and digestive tract is being ripped apart. like y2k you just want the bullshit to be over with already.  tomorrow more fun goodbyes, some serious meditation and no meat. i really want my strength back.

‘So what did you do there?’ 

They’ll ask me as we’re driving through traffic in this prison of concrete

SUVs the new tanks on the street, go for out for lunch with the parents spend 12,000 gallons for one pound of meat.

No more kebabs, hamburgers, or shishlik.

I’m a stranger, in a foreign land, find it difficult to relate, much easier to discriminate.

Just after 10 weeks born again a man anew the dirt sieved away from Kaplan and his crew. And I’m fearing that I’m about to forget everything I knew, disappear like organic matter from the pages burning away through compost stages and slave wages because not everyone has the magic touch so Mike grab your chooparim and please pack up. And no, you don’t have to bring the kids this time.

What a hussle, this struggle. I’m just one, one of many enlightened with the ethic, to save Her before we wreck it. An army of soldiers with pitchforks and shovels, take some seeds on your way out for all your needs and troubles. Listen to the word and spread it. Grow your own food and if you can’t go biodiesel then ya better to go unleaded. 

Permaculture. Is what I’ll tell ‘em I discovered. To my mom my neighbor even my younger brother. But how can you explain a vision, a perspective, and whole new philosophy. cause I’m thinking: ‘Shit. I’m on stage. Is everyone laughing at me?’ Worms bins and bloody shins..gives me head spins. So little I know, just the tip of the iceberg, no genius at work, writing all these words. So has it all been a waste? This taste - a quick short breath of fresh air.  What do I leave with, but books and smiles and compost piles, could be here longer I think I’ll stay here for a while. 

I need more coats! More mud coats ’cause I don’t have enough my sand scorched skin just not quite rough. But I’m leaving now, on a jet-train with seeds in my pocket, I’m ready to rock it and grow me some rocket put me in the greenhouse take the keys and lock it.

Answer. To question number two, to Mike Kaplan and the GA crew.

Listen up because this is what it’s all about: When the seed turns to flower, the flower to tree what do you get but self sufficiency? So that’s it Bill, that’s permaculture. To me. Recreate yourself, live like a tree, keep ya head up, and listen to the beat.

guys i smell so bad. really. its gotten to the point that - well, ppl around me at the chader ochel [eating area] are pulling back when i offer hugs [pulling back when EYE offer hugs??] but that’s not SO terrible - i’m smelling my putrid scent of work, sweat, mud, and balagan that its actually comforting, in a way. right? call it machismo, call me machismo - try it: aaron machismo ephraim urbaneskimo small - but the very, very temporary self repulsion has turned into sweet muddy satsifaction. maybe its that i havent showered in 4 days. or that the work shirt im wearing hasnt met mr. detergent in 7 weeks. or the oil and clay stains on my 20 shekel pants. they’re all GRRRRRRREAT!

so its been a long time since i blogged. yes, i realize. nothings really come up though, no lightning bolts to the head, nothing too inspiring. and now, on the eve of the end of the adventure that is the GA at kibbutz lotan, call it cliche, but things are melding together, culminating into the final product that can be none other than a full realization of my own potential, the unearthing of my soul, the layers of materialism, doubt, adolescence, and again, doubt, being brushed aside by the desert sun, work, leaders, the staff here at our program, kibbutznikim. 

 the light has gone on ladies and gentlemen.

everything is possible.

say it again. say it slowly, with intention.

everything.

is possible.

so if everything is possible…

what are you sitting around for?

All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes, to make it possible.

T.E. Lawrence

santa claus is pretty ridiculous, any way you look at it.  fat man in red coat, flies reindeer driven chariot, falls through chimneys. and thats how kids find playstations under pine trees these days. yeah. that’s the legend. 

im curious: when does it finally hit children that this myth is pure rubbish? that that just can’t be…it’s completely illogical, irrational, and unlawful entry.  tooth fairy, your mom convincing you of immortality when you were seven, the united nations…all a load of bs.

this permaculture course is almost over. im home in about 3 and a half weeks. im busy running past lessons in my head, recalling memories of worms and compost making and vegan pies and liquid fertilizer and building with mud and soil consistencies, thinking back and trying earnestly to make sense of everything, and how im going to use it.  technical practice aside, of which there is plenty, this week has been full of various enlightenments of my own actions and behaviors..

it takes massive amounts of energy to raise a cow for meat. its astronomical compared to vegetables. so why not go vegetarian? how much protein do we really need? how is it that americans eat meat or chicken twice a day, on average? why? i’ve lost the taste of meat. to be frank, its just hard to separate the environmental effects from my cuisine anymore.

why do build from concrete? its expensive, it breaks apart, it doesnt retain heat like other natural materials (straw bale construction), its caused injury and respiratory diseases, and its all rock. why has society sacrificed health and wellness for cheaper production? who wins in the end?

and the mother of all…sewage. what kind of idiots decided that the best way to deal with human waste was to put it in a bowl, and send it away underground with water in a complicated network of metal, corrosive pipes? then we invented chemicals to treat and clean the water, and make it safe for drinking? what? seriously. have you ever thought about this? we use clean water to send crap away somewhere else.

and this is what ive been waking up too in these past few days.  and ive been trying to understand the root of this problem. laziness? irresponsibility? or simply a lack of awareness that we can live healthier, more exciting, interesting, and fun lives, but only after we examine ourselves, our actions, and their consequences.  because right now, the sitation is getting worse, the problem trickier to deal with, the solutions requiring even more thought and contemplation.  my roommate describes humanity as a young thief who steals and steals from the liquor store. he comes in every day, takes more and more candy, thinking the old, aging owner isn’t paying attention. only one day, there won’t be any more to steal, and the kid won’t have anything to hide behind. 

then what happens?

Today I built a table. Yigal, (the roommate who suffered from heat exhaustion) found a bunch of scrap wood. The wood turned out to be pine, and once you sand and buff it with olive oil, it smells feels tastes looks very very nice.

Yesterday, Ashley and I played with rocks and created a sick border for a sheet mulch garden / raised bed right in front of our house. It’s gonna give our garden a terraced look.

Here’s the fixed link for Julia’s blog…She’s got great photos and updates often. You’ll get a first hand look at the permaculture work we’re up to here at the green apprenticeship. Also added her to the blogroll as a permanent link.

Okay. Aaron is tired. And needs to eat. [As usual] >

It’s cold. Winter is allegedly ending tonight, bringing promise of 100 degree weather till May. Kick ass.  To counteract the heat we’re starting our day a half hour earlier, to 6:00 for Chi Kong.  It’s like Tai Chi, but involves more stretching. My body is getting used to this idea of waking up with the sun. The sleeping game is a different story…Our salon is a room built with straw bales and mud.  I found an old red Halloween hat and affixed it to the energy efficient light on top, which generates less heat. It’s pretty sweet and the room, or should I say, womb, (ha!) is quite popular.  It feels like a hostel, with a lot of people traffic in and out.

We started permaculture last week. It’s gold. I knew a bit about Bill Mollison and some of his guild techniques, but now getting into the principles that encompass this theory. Theory, lifestyles, perspective, paradigm…Permaculture is everything, and nothing. It’s disorder among order, it’s order among disorder. A no waste, super efficient, eco friendly, holistic way of behavior, methods, goals, life, and all processes.

My parents are curious as to what exactly I’m doing here. Seed balls, irrigation, no till farming, compost, birdwatching, eco design, soil analysis, clay, carbon and nitrogen, vermicompost and why worms kick ass, plants plants and plants, mud structures, mud building, mud mixing…the list goes on, and we’re not even halfway yet. But it’s bigger than that. It’s like stumbling through a jungle, lost and without water and discovering an entirely new world of self-sufficiency, greendom, and healthiness rushing through everything. 

I think I’ve found what I’ve been seeking. Or maybe what I’m seeking has found me.  A true Gemini, whose interests and passions come and go faster than a train in Germany, it’s nice to finally get attached, but not obsessed, with something and stick to it.  My friend here, Healey, yeah, she said the same thing today.  It’s like that.

Oh and I went to Jordan last week, saw Petra, ancient city… Probably more well known as the set of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. I saw the temple where they got the Grail.  I went in.  I have the Holy Grail.

happy purim peoples! purim is a persian jewish holiday that celebrates the time, about 2300 years ago, when a bunch of bad guys tried to kill all the jews in the known world, we killed them instead, and then we ate a lot. its the same formula. rinse and repeat.

i have a mohawk now. its won crowds and the hearts of my fellow green apprenticeship members, and so i think its staying for the time being. i’ve wanted natty dreads for some time now, but looking like an algonquin (or like the unfriendly indian warrior from dances with wolves) will have to suffice. for now. not only a wicked fashion statement, its also beats the heat, which in the past three days has reached over 90 degrees. its supposed to get worse.

my roomate, also featured in this post, has recovered from heat exhaustion, but the numbers of those dropping has remained steady of about 1 person per week.

this permaculture shit is awesome. It feels like hi-tech biology class, only with more toys, peoples, and technical science. we got our books today, and its so gratifying to be part of something so valuable, necessary, and treated so seriously by our staff. and the word staff also seems inapproriate…4 are escapees from england or the US, assisted by yisrael, our technical israeli guru & walking horticulture encyclopedia. this course, itsnt really a course…im begining to see it more as some sort of passing or transfer of information from one group to another. its there if you want it, and they’re there if youre hungry for further information. my brain is swelled with facts about compost, sheet mulch gardening, companion planting, and soil fertility. i feel like a boy entering an ecological disneyland..so much to see, and so little time to do it. only here i wanna figure out how all the rides work, and here the owners teach you to build your own at home. the science and technology behind everything is simply….enormous…i’m really happy here, and happy i got here.

i think kids who grown up on on kibbutzim are programmed to hug all the time. its nice. thats all. they’ll hug me even when dressed as a samurai. (with mohawk)

okay. the dust allergies have usurped all control of my typing faculties. cottage cheese and salad for dinner awaits. till next time…

would love to know if you’re curious about anything, the kibbutz, permaculture, the program…

earthlings, compadres, the time is now!

It’s been about a week here. I’ll start with the rundown, in typical Aaron semi stream of conciousness ADD style that by now I hope you’ve become accustomed to: our living room is an actual mudhouse, my roomate is 35, moroccan, bought 3 acres of land in the desert and is starting to farm immediately after this thing is over, i’ve learned all about compost, soil introduction, sheet mulch, growing herbs, why socialism is essentially flawed, why capitalism is morally flawed, It’s very hot and windy here!

I like being a farmer. the labor is being taught by professionals, complimented by a lot of science and explanations behind everything, making it all worthwhile.
it’s changing me. kibbutz life, tiring and fun, communal and intimate…it’s something we miss in america, or at least the town I come from. Where am I going with all this? The stillness, the nature, the people, the love and connection within a healthy community…Its inspiring me and opening up my eyes, possibilities, to new ways of life and lifestyle. It’s revealing what I want to get away from (mass consumerism, vanity, mechanical beasts, overwhelming stimuli) and what I want to move towards. Earth, nature, friendliness, healthiness, tea, lovely people, creativity, balance, love, family. because, in the end, what else is there really?

oh. and the rest of the kids on the program are great. though its kinda like the real world. the real, real world.

so I head down to the arava valley desert tomorrow. 10 weeks of saturating sun, mud building, getting up at 6 am, awkward first encounters, snoring roommates, and the stillness of sand everywhere. with my white complexion I’m packing 2 jugs of spf 40 sunscreen, and a spare jug when those run out.

the urban eskimo’s ailments of recent days have kept me under self-imposed house arrest, allowing for massive amplication of preexisting moods of self introspection. it’s difficult to pinpoint the exact moment of epiphany, but if someone put a katushya next to my head, it’d be somewhere around today 2:30 in the afternoon, at cafe neto.  those who know me well, and perhaps those who’ve received an on the surface understanding of the kid who left civilization, left work, left a job teaching jewish studies to an inspired group of children in the rich suburban bubble called Santa Barbara, fell hard for a girl and spent a weekend with her based on knowing her for a trite, passionate amount of hours, left normalcy, left a comfortable language, for what promised to be adventure, rebuilding areas savagely ripped apart by war, traveling throughout a hyper fantasized land, and living in the desert, turned out into something so entirely different, so beyond what I would have expected to happen, that that awareness has made everything truly worth it.  I don’t need to tell you how everything turned out - history is being written and is written with every breath eye movement thought turn of the head and changing streetlight.

Before I left my bedroom in America I said “Goodbye!” and meant it with the confidence of a boy whose insides were being torn apart in 17 different directions by unseen futures exploding with adventure, that drug I’ve been addicted to since I can remember remembering. and this now-written tale of life as an israelite, I can say with assurance on the eve of my “program,” has fallen short of expectations, or perhaps was it I who erred by setting them too high?  reconstruction was repainting, sometimes i miss the kids I teach, the romantic relationship dissolved as swiftly as it left the harbor, travel week became farm work, and the desert - there lies the vast desert - a few hours away.

but no tale ends with a sad ending. it’s against the rules, and my book is no different. my coming to terms with israel, this strange place which leaves me alienated as a true stranger in a land of strangers, a land whose culture and way of life I simply abhor yet at the same time accept, has slowed me down to an almost standstill, and it is with a heavy heart that I begin to declare that this journey of nomadic madness is coming around it final curve, the fruits of my wandering reaped and placed into a basket whose owner is slowly getting used to the ground and looking for a nice, soft, interesting place to touch down, for the landing is an adventure in and of itself. 

this new desire to stay afloat, in one place at one time with one mind, and the death of my former self…it would be preposterous of me to affirm unflinchingly that I’m fully satisfied with the outcome, but I’m feeling disarmed by logic, love, and the passing of time. hours. days. weeks. months. years. it’s all added up to this, or so we’d like to think. what fools we are, loyal to this myth of choice and want and time and space. what is everything really, but a series of interactions, moments, experiences, and actors who pass through our own personal books of history?

everything in its right place, moving along this fast-moving track, the pollution clearing, the noise and impediments brushed aside with each added second flour sifted for the next day’s bread. and down the road it is with clarity, though still blurry, that I envision sitting there my own family, my own children, a home, a space, and I’m doing nothing but staring and reminded of this day.

it’s raining here, again. wait, it just stopped. i’m upstairs, in a house, with a shower…which is quite different from my previous living situation. it feels like i’ve been away for a year, and i’m talking about my weeklong stay at chava v’adam (which made it on tv tonight) but also about my stay here in the promised land.

i could delve into the math, but since i suck at it, (and you’d find it boring) i won’t. but 6 weeks with a capital six, and that american raft floating downstream is fading ever moreso with every new hebrew word i learn and subsequently mispronounce, corruption scandal that breaks the news, and the kind gentle israeli that i meet ( they exist, you just have to look for them. and most of them are only pricks for the first 24 hours)

what isnt helping the big ole US of A’s case? i’ve started to see myself more as a representative of my homecountry, putting globalization, logic and liberalism aside, and growing vexed at what our country does and what my miniscule amount of taxes go towards. 130 billion in army and equipment aid to wars that the government still attempts to justify? And 30,000 troops awaiting to land in hell in baghdad? i don’t look forward to reading the news anymore. glutted with conflicts, wars, and formal budget requests to fund more. have you ever seen those statistics about the iraq war? they break down cost and compare it with “what we could have bought.” the details aren’t important, but the message is…maybe i’m being naive, blind to this picture that so many are leading their life by, but i believe we can, perhaps in small groups, live in communities without excessive politics, suffering, leading a just life based on responsibility, friendship, and living small.

i’ve spent time with a random bunch of people: american hippies who choose to live outside in 32 degree weather and grow their own food, alongside a group of israelites, some who have never entered a hotel, some who go on 15 mile desert hikes for fun, and some who build houses from mud and have no interest in serving in the israeli army. 9 out of 10 of them believe the world is in jeopardy, with greenhosue gases or nukes hitting first, and 2 of them sincerely believe that the world will end in 2012. say thanks to the mayans for that one!

time abroad, living alone on a farm, playing with goats, climbing trees - it gets to you. the question of what kind of life i want to live, and how to live it plagues me these days. {what else is one to think about sitting in a pine tree in the judean desert 30 ft above the ground?} inner peace, inner peace i’m beginning to understand as shutting down those emphatic angels and demons from the circles of fear, $$$, and safe ‘n sound stability and sincerely paying heed to what really compels you. to seek risk, life, chance no matter how crazy it is.

when it doesn’t make sense, then it starts to make sense.

so everything has changed.

the farm is what i expected, and more. ill try to paint some pictures for you.

it is separated into 2 groups. running the actual farm are israelis, mostly coming from kibbutzim or moshavim settlements from all over, doing a year of national service before the army, serious hippies who prefer to spend their time tending to our small herd of goats, roosters, and lone horse. one girl, shlomit, is somehow related to the late great shlomo carlebach. born in the golan heights, she comes from a family of 9 children and ran away from high school and has been living on the farm for 9 months. they are quiet folk, sabras who are eager to teach me the benefits of a vegetarian diet, israeli slang, how to cook cabbage and make lentil soup, “tea” steeped just with lemongrass, sage, and zatar (all from the farm), and build houses from mud, hay, and wood.

i am dirty here. very, very dirty. i live in a dome, 9 x 9, an acre away from the main house with the other group. 2 jews with a penchant for farming and living “the minimalist lifestyle” came to the farm, gave a presentation, set up a few dome homes, and started growing growing growing everything in season. yigal, the 26 year old, is a skinny, reclusive english lit grad from columbia…he misses shakespeare but has been living by himself in a dome for about a year. his partner is shoshana: talkative, happy, happy to farm, has been living in israel since 16. she created her own, private farm at 21, an accomplishment that makes me feel so small, even more aaron small, in comparison. the dedication and committment to a lifestyle, a vision, and a way of life that these israelite Thoreaus breathe is stuff you only read about in books {or eskimo blogs}.

in the domes we are without water, electricity, bathrooms. we’re up at 6, working from 7-12, cabbage till 1, work till sunset. thursday i hiked with gaia and carlebach about 10 minutes in our backyard and ran into a herd of 150 cows. gaia played her didgeredoo and i had a few staring contests with some of the longhorns. they won every time. we sat on a fantastic pine tree that i mean to climb next time we’re there.

so whats been running through the eskimos head? this struggle, this momentum has sprung forth, a clear distinction has become apparent, namely this question of reality. as i sit with the compost crew after dinner smoking a sage cigarette (all-natural and like everything else we eat, it’s from the farm) i ponder “what is the real world?” is it us? in here? at the farm? or is it with ‘them,’ out there? perhaps reality is exists subjectively, there being 6.7 billion realities in the world, never staying static, shifting perpetually in this circulating artery of time. but then, what feels more right, more real for me? its true…we are without internet, a bookstore, coffee, film festivals, and renoir…but we do have clean air, grass and earth as our floor, the trees as best friends, and the chance to play an integral role in nature, survival, and this cyclical system of life on earth.

“everthing comes back to the circle.”

im not making any calls yet, but its become even more apparent to me how humanity must seriously reconsider its priorities and objectives while on this earth. we are living with this self-destructive propensity to be content with the way things are, and have our grandchildren pay the price for our actions.

the question remains then, where to start?

im heading back to the farm tomorrow. ill be there for about 2 weeks. its also supposed to rain. come find me. i’ll be in the dome.