Green Tribe of Belonging

 Oh my. These are truly tough days here in this country. We are being bombarded with rhetoric that inflames hatred and division. The stabilizing parts of our government are daily being thrown overboard. It is hard to believe that a dramatic collapse is not imminent. And for us, the people, it is hard to know what to do, how to respond. Of course we want to find ways to support what we sentient beings crave: peace, cooperation, understanding, love, acceptance, smooth interactions, freedom of thought, a common foundation. But it is so easy to feel powerless and afraid. In the face of overwhelm, my instinctive reaction is to pull myself away in my mind from the human upheaval, and remember (like the name of this blog) that we all belong to something greater, a connected, vibrant universal web of life and sustenance. My imagination takes me to the soft leaves underneath a tree, where I curl up and listen to the earth breathing beneath me, knowing that I am a small part of it all, and t...

  (I've been sick for a couple weeks, just beginning to feel good again. Here's a poem I wrote just before I moved from the farm to our cohousing community, and it seems a good one for us right now in our troubled world.) Centering I taught my two grandsons to use a potters wheel.  They were excited, ready to engage, imagining beautiful vases, plates, creations. And then they found out about centering, a challenge only one of them finally mastered. There is the whirling surface, and the hunk of clay in the center, wobbling and bumping around, all cattywhompel, uneven, rough and stubborn. What is needed is firm, strong hands, braced on stability, urging the clay down and in, resisting the pull outward, resisting the pull to disorder. It takes slow patience, easy breathing, focus, unflappable intent. And once the clay is finally guided to the still center, it spins beautifully, smoothly, unerringly in place. It is only then that the potter can begin to shape, to carefully, bit b...

 This is the time of year, at least for those of us in the Northern Hemisphere, that makes us dig deep. As my acupuncturist says, we need to hold steady from the root. Even though our planet is warming in general, and it is not at all a good thing for our future, some of us are feeling that this winter has been especially cold and hard. It may be because there is so much dread and uncertainty in our lives since our new president has taken power and is making decisions that threaten our future in so many ways. It is harder than usual to feel hope.  For many years, in late winter I've begun planting in January. Here at Prairie Hill I cover my front stoop with 25-30 planted flats of prairie seeds. These seeds need to be "stratified" before they can germinate (be out in the cold for a couple months). They'll begin to break the ground in April. I'm hoping to get this first planting done this weekend. Those of us on the Native Prairie Subcircle at Prairie Hill collected...

 As Iowa has been shivering under sub-zero temperatures, I've been mostly staying inside. All my big houseplants are spending the winter inside too and filling my space with greenery. As I sit in my cozy recliner, it's as if I'm surrounded by lush tropical forest, but with all the conveniences of modern life. A heated foot massager is at my feet, healthy snacks at my side, my phone on the stand beside me, and a clear view of the big screen that brings the world into my living room. And on this device, as I wrap myself in a soft blanket, I've been watching all 8 episodes of an amazing series called Life on Our Planet. Steven Spielberg is the producer and Morgan Freeman the narrator of this ambitious collection of films, and it has been masterfully done. The series starts with the beginning of our planet, focusing on the extreme energies that brought this collection of elements together in the solar system, ending with a huge round ball that gradually hardened into a plan...

 It's been too long since I wrote a post for this blog. Part of that is because my schedule was totally full of meetings when I got back from Asheville a week ago. And part of it is that I've had a hard time not feeling angry and depressed by what is happening in our country, at least politically. I read Heather Cox Richardson's posts every day, but I'm almost deciding to take a break for awhile since the news is so very terrible. I know there are still good things in the world, and I'm starting to actively look for them and let them inspire me. Last evening, walking back from a meeting in the common house to my front porch (a 20 second walk), I looked up and saw the moon, and it filled me with something big: gratitude, perspective, awe. When I got home, I wrote this cinquaine: Full moon. High in the sky. What a reminder that Some things in our world are still here, Touch point. Just looking up to something way out of my worried everyday life was such a gift. Some t...

 It is winter, when everything outdoors slows down. The trees have lost their leaves, the grass turns brown, the cold encourages us to cuddle up in our homes. Winter can be a quieter time for us, with more chances to reflect. And like many of us, I've been trying to understand how a man was elected to the presidency who seems to stand against everything that we thought were common values: care for the earth, concern about the climate, the philosophy that all people are equal under the law, the worth and rights of women, aid to the disadvantaged, respect for the boundaries of other countries....  The list goes on and on. And more people voted for this man than for his opponent. How have we gotten to this place? What is causing what appears to be a crazy detour into chaos? So let's look at our values, I thought. What values drive the majority of Americans? And how might that help to explain how we got where we are now? When Europeans first started to migrate to the Americas, the...