Posts Tagged ‘spring’

I harvested a ton of stinging nettles today with the intent to make an infusion with it, sautee it along with meals, and try it in a hair tonic. It was recommended to me by a friend when I mentioned to him I’d been suffering from inexplicable fatigue the past few days. We put on some gloves, grabbed some scissors, and walked down to a massive patch at the foot of the garden.

These plants are fighters! They actually sting you. Covered in tiny spindly hairs, each hair has a microscopic ball of chemicals on its end. When you touch it, the hairs become needles and inject you with the chemicals, causing a burning and numbing sting, much like that of a bee sting. You’ll notice your skin reacting as if it were stung by an insect – it becomes raised and inflamed. I was handling them seven hours ago and my fingers still tingle from the stings I received. Apparently a number of people self-flagellate with stinging nettles because of its stimulating effects on the muscles and itch-relief.

If you can bear the pain, the payoff is enormous. Stinging nettles are used to treat an unthinkable  number of illnesses and other causes of dis-ease, ranging from gout to eczema to allergies to anemia. It helps women lactate and endure more bearable menstruation periods. As a food it’s incredibly rich in a number of vitamins and minerals, as well as iron and protein. This plant is magical!!! Go pick some and nourish yourself with it. I ate a bunch of it raw today by folding the leaves up carefully and rolling them into a small ball to release the stinging chemicals before popping it onto my tongue.

I also picked some garlic mustard, which tastes delightfully just as its name describes. I sauteed it with some tomatoes, chard, and garbanzo beans and topped pasta with it, along with some ground flax meal and nutritional yeast for dinner. Awesome.

Walk outside. Look at all the life beings that so readily capture the mysterious essence of light and morph it into respiration, nutrition, universal mothership. The light wants to feed you. The earth wants to feed you. Partake!

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All living mercury! and what physical fatigue

what  d r a i nnn

On to the fourth day, unwillingly dragging my feet

when fluffy music and puppies encourage tall flouncing!

I’ve been shutting mouth voluntarily.

I’ve been contained and ablizzard skull-side

a-buzz, a-buzz as those mating big beez just beyond the schoolyard. fighting for a fuck,

funneez. Jib-jabbing that woman down

Y’all don’t know. Y’all’ve no idea’ve m’insanity.


“”I am so incredibly exhausted.

What am I going to do?

I want to let it come.

I can’t live within these confines anymore. These constraints. Schoolwork is impossible.

Roadtriproadtriproadtrip last summer, let’s go back

I should move

but I don’t wanna.

Maybe I’ll eat

but I’m not hungry.

Avoid your traps, girl. Keep going. Just keep going when the going gets like this

But I want a break! not a vacation, a respite. A break from life

let’s go to sleep!

sleeping’s only making me tired.

I want to say I’m sorry. I should send him a letter. Two words: I am so sorry.

It’s over, isn’t it.

Now what?

Where am I?

What matters?

I don’t want to do this school thing anymore. I am wasting my time.

But what else would I do?

Work and guide myself.

But what if I get off track?

I need a teacher. someone to ground me

I need a goal.

But goals are impossible to keep when everything is in such constant flux! Even my goals change every second of the day!

You must find the balance between discipline and flexibility.

but what the fuck does that mean?

It means yoga

study yoga

but even yoga sucks sometimes.

It’s my mind. My mind is what makes it suck.

What’s wrong with school? It’s nice to have people guiding you on some subject you otherwise wouldn’t pick.

I want to do my own learning.

I have this great idea for free advised school via internet…

nothing’s ever going to come to fruition, is it?

Plus, I love it here. so much

i think: I want to be in a place that allows me to explore all types of stuff

– this is that place. I am.

[it’s all right here]

I just want to study yoga.

That can’t be all you do.

Okay, well I want to farm and garden, too.

What about people?

sure, I want people.

I want a variety of people, lovers and haters, all of them teachers

i want to be a part of justice for people.

Naw, I just want to be surrounded by and serving people I love

but all the people I love are dispersed throughout the planet

and serving them causes me to neglect serving myself


Really, though, without having folks to get up to serve in the morning

why get up at all.

but nobody needs me

Some want me, sure

they think I’m unique or funny or uncanny

but they’d not really miss me gone.

And those who do need me, those who do miss me –

i feel oppressed and smothered by them. I push them and proclaim they’re tearing me from my very self

i feebly tell them how I love them

but I’ve never the gall actually to sacrifice and show it for fear of inward personal discontent.

And I did just want to be free. I was living free for such a while and getting good

I was knowing

lonely but uncomplicated

simply making rash decisions here and there.

though unexposed to the “WAH” of all life truly is except in spurts of organic progression of/and understanding

I contained divinity, simply less hands held with the cerebral cortex

I’m not saying it was perfect. It wasn’t.

But it may have been easier. Ignorance always is, eh

though there’s no going back, as long as I am able.

To spiral is the only option.

Bounding, pure light,

a cheetah swift a field of yellow wildflowers

caring her young

licking her chops

big cat love

big cat oh

spirit and bounty,

beautiful beast. Mother mother.

My long past floods in through some expansive region inside the black of my mindspace when eyes are closed. These visualizations used to limit themselves to uncontrolled, forgotten dreams. I’ve recent discovered an entire world apart from the lies told when I open my eyes. The inner blackness, emptiness

fills with giant banners of intricacy and form

Just the respite I’d required.

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Twice in two weeks a snake has crossed my path in the woods. Barefoot the first time, a friend stopped me in my tracks with her terror. The snake froze in its sensuous curve, licking an invisible popsicle of self-defense. I guided my friend gently around a wide-berth circumference. The creature’s eyes and matched tongue never left our forms until we’d retreated far enough as to dim the energetic intrusion.

Two days ago the same slithery beast crept over the naked skin of my topfeet on another trail, a mountain a couple of miles away. This one also lapped it’s tongue, careful to maintain its  stiffened-stream posture. A companion caught the S by a grip on the tail, and I balked as he stretched his lean body in opposition,      fighting against entrapment, wrongful intrusion, bodily touch minus permission or ability to say. I sensed a vengeance, the serpent’s want to retaliate, and led our retreat out of respect for its lack of understandable words. Perhaps I was projecting myself onto this snake. It seemed so clear to me that catching it by it’s tail, preventing it from slithering as far as it pleased and in any direction, was an unwanted imposition and unfair, despite any just motives of the captor. Captors often believe their motives are just, after all.

The woods are alive. Clicking, tick-tocking their own non-clock time. No time at all, but mystical force. Time as measured only by seasons in ceremonial growth and decay.

How exciting, out here in the dark. The sky a puddle cauldron in some distance and smell of fire tugging the intuition of my nostril fur. Sweet, sweet blossoms beginning their perfume,

a time of creation. A time of Love. And how giddily mysterious, these trees in the dark. At their feet all kinds of cricking and cracking. Creaking branches with moaning blades of grass. Taken away one sense, I mistake not to know what lies there around me. What insects? What fauna? What eaters and shitters and pollinators lie or frolic there? Which lurk on prey, which dig, which forage or shiver or lackadaisically lay about in stretched leg-leaf-tentacle heaven? Only hearing them should be enough. Only feeling them. Only imagining them shall be enough for a sage.     My testines urge me: defecate there, on deadened foliage! Joining refuse-life-refuse-heat-smell-scintillation-food-life-refuse. Like some mother mushroom spreading football-length miles below, vast pulsing fungal matrimony; bleeding manure spore-gy. MMm, the delightful attraction to become weird. SPOntaneous REgeneration ! and what color-trails assist.       ssssss

The water here tastes purely toileted, surely poison. Lace of some technical attribute; its atoms altered to manmade algorithms and replacing words like “bless.” “Joy.” I’ve not been drinking it. I can’t discover what’s worse – dehydrating myself or drinking water designed to shape me into a compliant drone.

Chemicals penetrate my skin four-days weekly, anyhow. The dishroom stinks my clothes like body odor never has, and in what short time! Like coal in the mountains, remove the epidermis for some compact layer of iodine now lurking underneath. The sake of health! Cleanliness! Of course. It’s code.

I notice how intricately linked the weather is with emotion here. I have begun to pick up on the vibrations of words and thought. The moment someone speaks an idea about someone else, my view of that person (the speakee) is changed. Even if I don’t agree with the observation. Every single thing any person, any consciousness, chooses to inject into the atmosphere changes it somehow. The way words are spoken makes something new. Each decision, every thought.. all of these are comingling energies working to perpetually create reality. We have a duty to control them. We have a duty to make them healthy, bright, reverent of love, constructive, truthful. Infused with honor. I recognize how much easier it is to maintain a pleasant state of mind when surrounded by people (sometimes unconsciously!) committed to interacting peacefully and constructively with one another. Though is it easier to connect with myself? In some ways, yes, for I am allowed the freedom to express myself here any way that I want. All social norms are cast aside, save for those which protect mutual honor and respect. The outer-work is done, then. This allows me more energy to spend on cultivating my inner-means of security. In this I am not convinced I’m making progress. Old habits, trip-ups, fall-backs. It’s about becoming mindful – making sure I can and making sure I do.

Earlier today I thought to myself, This place is making me a better person. I am improving. I become more good every day. This place makes me more what he wants me to be (more my pure self). But surely these characters will ebb away once removed from these purest surroundings?

I must solidify those thoughts (of assuredness, benevolence) and continue them despite temptation to trade them for easier ones. Yoga has taught me that when you believe you are strong, you are strong. When you think of yourself as divine, certainly you become divine.

In the past 10 weeks, folks have been praising my laugh, my yoga practice, and my dancing constantly in all means and perfections. It’s like it’s easier, here, to spy another’s essence, and even more convenient to acknowledge it aloud and share in the joy of cultivating spirit. To be validated.

appreciation can come from anywhere

it seems that the hunger, sparked from true cosmic connection, is more unique

my cave so confusedly wishes to be filled. At least some of the time.

the hollow want of someone yawning open

far far away

he’s swallowing i’m drinking air – we are apart and im drinking only air.

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