At first we were just ruminating and tinkering. How to entice beneficial micro critters into the soil; how to prepare potions from the “weeds” in the prairies…
At first it was mostly amusing. Stumbling on Henri’s odorific jars of fermented vegetables in my linen closet (sauerkraut and the like for healthy gut flora); trolling a pasture for fresh cow patties to fashion a “praline” dip for fragile tree roots.
Just trying things out, trying to find our north.
In our ramblings, we sought out the rural elders. They proudly hobble around their havens of pre 50’s bio diversity, amidst beehives and herbal remedy gardens, spouting gems of know-how that reach back centuries. Over a glass of apple cider, they use the analogy of monoculture crops to explain why some societies are imploding:
“When you cultivate by Nature’s laws, you think about balance. You don’t poison the predators; you keep them in check by helping the plant be strong. A sick plant is easy prey. Just like a family. A village. A country.”
Not all that long ago, such words crackled like faint radio signals on a frequency almost out of range. And then, I don’t remember when, messages started multiplying. I guess my ears had pricked up. They say you tune into the frequencies that most match your own. Kindred ideas. Like we’re all reading the same book.
People are calling this a time of darkness. But I tune up my hearing and something else floods in.
P. from DC: “When I was a child, people sat on their front porch after dinner and chatted with their neighbors strolling on the street. Then they got tv and air conditioning.”
Q. from Texas: “The swing to the right is affecting the entire planet as it appeals to the less attractive aspects of human nature. All we can do is stand fast, behave better and reinforce the other side of the pendulum. The world will right itself.”
D. from Paris: “We are pinpoints of light. One by one, we connect.”
J. from Petit Roque: “There have been times of darkness before when I have despaired. But this time, with even more at stake, it is not despair I sense, it’s hope.”
Watching tv with the windows sealed and the AC cranked up high. Easy for darkness to slip in and get comfy. A sick plant is easy prey.
And yet. And yet…
C. from San Francisco writes a poem about her friend: “She was a starburst of joy.”
We all know someone who is a starburst of joy. People who act out of joy, not fear. They say they see the gathering of the Light. Troops calling. Squadrons rising.
Monsieur Anthony from Audiguey: “Predators aren’t interested in healthy plants.”
S. from New York: “Get good shoes. We’ll be on our feet a lot now.”
The light always wins out.