Greetings!
Still from Austin, still from the [not-so-new-to-me-anymore] urbstead on Guadalupe and St. John’s.
There is something stirring and pulsing in me that is new, and yet is ancient. There is an excitement inside me, growing as I type. I feel like that 6 year old that still believes in Santa and after a long night of trying so hard to get to sleep so that Dear Old Saint Nick wouldn’t pass up my house (because we all know that he doesn’t stop if you’re still awake), finally getting to sleep. And when dawn breaks, bolting downstairs to that towering pile of gifts so artfully placed and sparkling with ribbons and bows and fancy paper with snow men and angels.
THIS is how it feels to wake up on that morning.
My heart is swelled, and pounding with anticipation at what will be next.
Mysterious analogies and metaphors aside….
I signed up for the Austin Permaculture Guild’s Design course. Today was my first class. The hours… brutal. From 9 am till 545 pm. But inbetween those hours, profound amazement and bonds and explosions happened.
The whole day was pure bliss for me. But I will tell of one particular event in this day that really will stand out for me for as long as I can remember.
The very first principle in permaculture that we learn is observation. And while you are observing, patience is key. You can’t rush watching. “The good observer is the good recliner,” so said Dick Pierce, our instructor.
We had an exercise, just after lunch break in which we were to simply observe. We were not allowed to talk. We had to just observe Nature. When we were… released… into nature (in the confines of a wooden privacy fence), we were free to just roam about and observe. We were to note our feelings, both emotional and physical sensations. We were to note smells, tastes, sounds. Everything. As I followed my fellow classmates out the door that led to this yard, I felt odd… This was like meditation. And I don’t do meditation very well. Turn off thoughts? Sure, for a minute, but they always come right back. Let go of that old attachment (tasteless joke… I read the other day… Why didn’t the Buddhist monk vacuum in the corners of the room? Because he didn’t have any attachments! *guffaw!* Ok… back on track…).
I saw an old tree. What kind of tree? I’m not sure. It was at least 50 yards away. I was drawn to it, as if it were calling my name, and using its long twisted finger-branches to motion me closer.
I didn’t know what I would do once I reached the tree. I looked around and saw some classmates standing, staring up. Some were seating themselves at the base another tree. Others were still wandering aimlessly. I looked back at my tree. I could see in my mind, as if I were watching it happen right in front of me, myself climbing up that tree. So, that’s exactly what I did. I climbed right up that tree. I amazed myself at how deftly I moved. In spite of the pain that I have been having in my back for the last several days, I glided right up that tree trunk, and landed myself on a limb, about 15 feet off the ground. The limb came up at an angle. It was perfect for me to just wedge myself right into a sitting position. I straddled the limb, wrapping my legs around. I laid myself down on the limb and wrapped my arms around, as well. I laid my head down and closed my eye.
At first, it was difficult to shut out the noise of the city. The sound of people shouting on the other side of the fence. Sirens blaring. Engines revving.
I don’t know how long I lay there, before the sounds just stopped. My limbs became tingly, and then I couldn’t feel them at all. And it wasn’t the falling asleep tingly that you get when you sit funny for too long. It was as if I had become one with the tree. It was as if I could feel the tree’s pulse. The life, the energy rampaging through each branch and limb. As I allowed my own energy to meld with this vibrant tree energy, a new feeling arose. I don’t know what to call this feeling, or if it even has a name at all. But, suddenly, the thought came to pass, “So, this is what it must feel like to be a baby being cradled by it’s mother.” This was a sense of safety. Of peace. No fear. A sense that time had sped up and was standing still all in the same instance.
I opened my eyes and spotted the grass below. It was a vibrant green. The leaves around it, blurry. As I look down at the ground, the green popped and then faded, and all I could see was a pale pink color. The pink seemed to be alive, ebbing and flowing, like water on a lake shore.
I blinked and noticed my classmates all heading in. How could it have been 20 minutes already? I looked down once more and panic almost arose. I hugged the limb once more and climbed down like a monkey.
When we were all back in the classroom, Dick asked us some of us to volunteer to summarize our observation of experience in one word. For me, TIMELESS.
At the end of the class, we each were asked to go around the room, state our names once more, and tell what one thing was that we didn’t know before, and one highlight.
For me, one thing I didn’t know… Was that nature doesn’t care about crowding. There’s a reason for things to grow all close together and nature really thrives when things are close together and allowed to intermingle with each other. My highlight… The observation exercise. How it reaffirmed all of my choices… and that in spite of some really difficult and painful things happening recently, that my choice in moving to Austin, my choice in doing everything that I have chosen to do leading up to now, all of my choices leading me down the path that I am on.
I feel so very blessed by the universe, to have open eyes and an open heart, to be able to feel all of these amazingly profound experiences.
Blessings!
~Michelle
Leader of the Patch 