Lorinna, the spontaneous community

I feel like I lost an entire week to emotional release.

What I realized at the end of it? Letting go is acceptance of myself.
Accepting all parts of myself, not just the "good" parts I like right
now. It means everything.

**

I've gotten a request to describe my physical surroundings. I suppose
it's warranted, given that I've been here, what? Three weeks? And
haven't posted any photos (still haven't figured out what the problem
is).

So, Lorinna. I first saw the house the last weekend in November when
we stayed for a night on our way back from the AGM. As we turned into
the driveway after hours in the car, the last of which were winding
down a one-track gravel road, it's hard to describe the relief I felt
at seeing the orange and red corrugated tin-roofed house down below
us. Even from the outside it was plain to see the care taken in
construction – all the thought into the aesthetic nature of a house
seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Now I know that many houses in
Lorinna are like this one – each one unique, whether it's strawbale or
wooden or rammed-earth. Many families have built or are building their
own houses, so I take special pleasure in getting a look at as many
houses as possible. Some have steps out of cuts from a single tree
trunk, some have elfen nooks and crannies, some are gargantuan
mansions with wrap-around porches and skylights.

This house I'm living in has wood floors and walls, stained-glass
windows in odd places (like the kitchen and high up in the office)
that add a touch of the human to it – who else but a human would
decide to put a window where no one can see out of it? There is an
abundance of cubbyholes, some finished, some boarded up, dirty and
dark inside, some used for storage – they're all different. The room
I'm staying in is two rooms – a small front room with a window
overlooking the drive, facing North (which is like South in the
Northern Hemisphere) where I meditate in the mornigns, and a large
room under the eaves, with a sloping roof where I sleep. There's also
a walk-in closet that's about the size of my room in Yosemite, and a
dirty unused storage room off to the right. In between is a tiny,
narrow, steep set of stairs leading up to a boarded-up turret-room.
This is a striking feature of the house from the exterior, since it's
the highest point of the roof, but that seems to be the best part
about it. Basically, it's dark and dirty. At first I was thrilled to
get the room with little rooms off it, and now it just doesn't matter
since I don't use them anyway.

I spend most of my time hanging out in the kitchen (big room, wood
stove for cooking, gas burners, sink, wooden countertops, large dining
room table and computer) and the sunroom, an added room that opens off
the kitchen. Slate tiled floor, wooden paneling and lots of windows
facing the drive, the garden and the forest. It can get quite warm in
the afternoon, and it's where I do qigong in the mornings before
anyone else is awake. Quite possibly the best room in the house!

Everything is green here – you have a feeling of lush abundance,
especially in the garden, which is growing quite the crop of weeds and
a few vegies. Looking out from the house is the garden and beyond, the
drive rising up a small grassy hill (mowed courtesy of the wallabies)
out to Ladybird Lane. There's a pond behind the garden as well, and
another one farther up the hill, neither of which you can really see
from the house. You just know they're there. Off to the right is more
lawn that's slowly being converted to forest, consisting of wattle and
gum trees of some sort. I had no idea, but there are hundreds of
kinds. Wow! The forest floor is covered in bidgee-widgees,
blackberries, tough sprigs of grass, gum bark...and leaves. It's not a
place you'd really want to stand in one place for very long, either,
since there are streams of ants, some bigger and more painful than
others, making their busy way over hill (rotting log) and dale
(buttercup patch). We've some non-native (I'm assuming) trees in our
yard, which the possums find so delicious they've stripped them of all
their leaves. Soon they'll be dead non-native trees. There's a wood
shed and a path down to the stream where the hydro dam is. There are
tree-ferns down there, sometimes 3 metres tall, and apparently every
foot takes ten years to grow. I've been thinking they would thrive in
Oregon!

Off to the left of the house is more grass, rolling down to a
temporary flat spot where I practice taiji barefoot sometimes, and
continues to a fenced paddock. Going up the hill on the left side of
the road is an overgrown orchard of possibly fruit trees – it's hard
to tell in all that grass, and they're still quite small. This is
where Emma keeps her ducks – in a little duck house, and it's the
highlight of Elly's day to let them out in the morning and put them
away at night.

Elly? You say? Yes, Della and Elly are here to stay for a few days.
Taking in the wonders of valley life!

Behind the house is more forest (or 'bush', they would say here. It's
all-encompassing, meaning anything not civilized) and that's about it.
We're on nine acres here, much of it taken over by blackberries.

Today we're headed to the Co-op for some socializing with the
villagers, where we'll see some other kids and pick up a box of
wonderful produce and mayhaps peruse the crowded co-op shelves for
some delight to hold us until we make another foray to the big city.
The Co-op is a shack, about 10 by 12 feet, chock full of organic and
bulk-type stuff. It's very cool the community puts it together, and
they staff it every saturday. Just down the road is the Community
Hall, a white building with a patio out front they're working on
tiling a chess board into. The hall is one main room, with a kitchen
off to the side. They have Wednesday yoga-qigong here, and Saturday
night movie/potluck night. They have a projector and a big screen!

Saturdays are community days here – Emma says she's given them up to
socializing. The rest of the time it's pretty quiet here, so social
saturdays fit my schedule!

The rest of Lorinna is lush forest and paddocks with the occasional
pond and flock of geese or herd of goats making their way through the
blackberries. Some people run cattle, and it seems like everyone has
chooks. We're quite close to Lake Cethana, which covers the bottom of
the valley, and many people live up the road, on the hill or higher up
where it levels out again. On a clear day you can see the top of
Cradle Mountain - a national park here.

We may, or may not go. It's just so... nice here.

Australian Adventure needs your input

Hello to all!

I'm writing today to ask for input. So far I've been flying by the
seat of my pants and a handy Lonely Planet Tasmania guidebook. I've
decided to take in a bit of the rest of the massivity of Australia,
and I need to know where to go. I'm looking for your insights, input,
personal experiences or dreams to help me define the rest of my trip.

Above all, I'm interested in experiences - not tourist sights or
climbing the tallest mountain. Ideally, I'd like to meet people who
live in communities and spend two to three weeks with them. Possible
in Northern New South Wales or Queenland (since they're tropical!).
I've looked on ic.org, and I'll probably look again, but I thought
there's gotta be someone out there with some clues for me!

Just click on the letter at the bottom of this post to drop me a line!
(It's so cool I have a following to ask this of!)

Ta!

Smile, Sunshinelover, smile!

Smile!

Sunshine!

And besides that, some realizations: this may seem obvious to some of
you, but it was a little epiphany for me. I am my body. My
consciousness is in my body, and in that respect, I am my teeth, my
fingernails, my tongue. As in my mind is in my teeth, my teeth are my
mind.

This makes sense in terms of body/mind, I just never put it together
before. I've been reading a book called Prometheus Rising by robert
Anton Wilson, which is a book about why we act the way we do. In it,
the was a parable of a Buddhist monk, working towards enlightenment.
His master told him to meditate on an ox, so day after day, he thought
about an ox, meditated on an ox, visualized the ox. One day the master
came to his cell and said, "come out here, I want to talk to you."

The monk said, "I can't get out – my horns won't fit through the door."

With this, the monk was enlightened. In becoming an ox, and then
realizing he wasn't, he was able to step out of the robotic roles we
all play in society, to see things as they really are.

This got me to thinking about myself, my relationship with my body,
and my health, something I've very consciously been working on
improving for the last year and a half. In dealing with some long-term
conditions that just keep reappearing, I've been wondering what it is
that I'm not doing for myself. I realize that a lot of health is just
time and allowing my body and mind to reattain equilibrium, but with
these recurring conditions, it must be a deeper cause than what I'm
eating or doing. It's what I'm thinking about myself.

This is where Louise Hay's affirmations come in. She has a booklet of
affirmations related to health problems – if you have bad eyesight or
a weak leg or whatever it might be, there is an affirmation in there
addressing the thought behind the problem. I'm wondering what my
affirmation is, what part of myself I don't accept or what part I
think I need to protect. Meditation is especially useful in coming up
with answers to these questions – and I'm in such a space that I can
meditate as much as I want.

Can I just say how GREAT it is being in Lorinna? I am thoroughly
enjoying my gentle experience of weather, community, animals, exercise
and self-realization. I do exactly what I want, I enjoy talking to
Emma and sharing ideas and dreams, we have plenty of time to
ourselves, and the community's always out there if I want a higher
level of interaction.

I know that each step of my journey is unpredictable, wonderful, full
of lessons and more direction. At this point I'm wondering where I'm
off to next – I'm thinking the rest of Australia, to check out some
established communities to see what helps them stay cohesive and
happy. It's so easy to look at communities and pick them apart,
stating everything that's wrong and what needs improvement. I can do
that with anything. But looking at communities from the point of view
of what's right, what's working well, what are the lessons they've
learned and are learning and the binding agent bringing people
together – that's what's interesting to me.

I contemplated coming home early and just visiting communities in the US.

HA!

I'm here in exotic, english-speaking Australia. There must be a reason
for it! If nothing else, I'm off to explore some of the delights, and
meet neat people along the way. I knew from the beginning how much
I'll change as a result of this; travel has that effect on people. Now
it's a matter of allowing myself to be as open and loving as possible,
to invite in wonderful experiences and set my intention to get exactly
what I need from this trip.

When I was in Devonport, I bought two horribly over-priced magazines.
One was an Australian knitting magazine called Yarn, the other was a
spirit guide mag called Spheres. This issue is on abundance
(appropriate for Christmas-time, don't you think?) and manifesting
what you want in your life.

One article was a woman who communicated with Dragonfae, and for the
new year they recommend doing a cleanse prior to the last dark moon
of the year – that means before the sliver of the new moon appears.
This means clearing your space – de-cluttering! Getting rid of
anything that no longer has a personal connection to you, or with
anything that holds meaning you no longer want in your life.

After you clear (you can rearrange furniture if you want to give it a
'fresh' feel), you smudge! Smudge yourself first (ask someone to do
you) then smudge your space, energetically sweep it with a broom
(which you've also smudged) and then bring in something new that
represents the energy of the new year you're creating.

How great! A ceremony!

Of course, I would wait until the Chinese New Year, since that's the
calendar I follow, but clearing sounds like a great idea for anybody,
anytime. If you think you need it, you probably do! I do it each time
I move camp – cleaning and clearing my stuff, deciding what I no
longer need, what I can give away, then smudging my new space and
setting my intention for my new situation.

One last thing: my affirmation is changing. From, "I love and accept
myself," it's become, "I love and enjoy myself." How great is that?!

Chicken stories!

From where I sit now, you could say I have a window on the world.
Enclosed in glass, our sunroom is the perfect observatory for wildlife
comings and goings. In the evenings sometimes the kookaburras will
perch on a tree stump at the edge of the lawn, picking out worms from
where we're pulling up bidgee-widgees (vines that grow sticky balls at
the end, like giant burrs), and I'll hear the classic jungle-sound
like a monkey's laughter that is their call.

Chicken is being rather demanding this morning. Perhaps I'll go into a
bit about her (or him). Apparently there's all sorts of ways to tell
if a chicken will turn out to be a rooster or a hen, like shining a
torch on their feathers to see if they're shiny, looking at the shape
of the tail feathers, looking to see if it's getting a frock coat
along its breast – all sorts of ways that are all fallible. We simply
don't know. Deva could be anything, she could be deciding right now
what she wants to be. When I started writing this morning she flew up
into my lap and began picking the fuzz off my old grey sweater.
Occasionally she'd scratch and keep picking, readjusting her footing
on my arms. This gave me a great opportunity to watch chicken behavior
– something I hold close to my heart, being a Rooster myself. Indeed,
the way she picked the front of my sweater clean of invisible pills
reminded me of myself, picking at zits in the mirror. Fortunately,
there's no mirror here, so I don't pick!

Deva's seems to be always looking to get into whatever it is you're
into. When I make breakfast, she's up on the counter, hopping onto the
pot to see if she can have a bite. Mostly, she makes a big racket and
might knock something over. I laugh to see her ruffle her feathers!
She keeps picking at my green tea leaves, too, leaving them strewn
about the counter. Just when you think it's over, chicken soup for
dinner, she settles down and roosts – on the counter, on Emma's bike
handle, in the corner, and you don't even know she's there until she's
hungry again and the cheeping starts up.

This certainly puts new perspective on factory farms where they cram
60,000 chickens into a warehouse, clip their beaks and never let them
scratch in the dirt or establish a pecking order. In fact, living so
close to animals (we've got two cats, one chicken, three ducks and one
rabbit) makes me much more aware of how life goes in an animal world.
I keep forgetting I'm a part of that – I'm an animal, you're an
animal, we're all animals here. Animals aren't kind – I don't know if
that's what I mean – they do things for themselves. Last night in the
garden, Monster, one of Emma's cats, was stalking Poppy, the other
cat. He was on one side of the fence, Poppy obliviously on the other.
As Poppy came towards the fence, Monster jumped up and surprised him.
He had no malicious intent, as they were on either side of the fence,
so you can only conclude it was for entertainment value. Animals have
a sense of humor.

The other morning I went with Emma to milk cows. She's learning at the
farm down the road, where they run about 20 head of cattle, provide
the community with organic beef and milk, and eat their rabbits and
guinea pigs. Talking to the woman about running an organic farm was
helpful in allowing me to see a meat-eater's point of view. When an
old dairy cow broke a hip and had to be shot (this is avoiding the
discussion of suffering as something to be avoided) she said wasting
"M" was unthinkable, that she'd much rather eat it than bury it. This
woman is very involved with her livestock, moving fences for them
every day so they have new pasture to graze, giving all the dairy cows
names (but not the beef cows, they get numbers) and spending enough
time to get to know their personalities. It's the same with her
bunnies. Many have names, they even train a 'bench bunny' to sit in
the kitchen while they prepare dinner, even if that dinner is...bunny.

While we were milking, this woman talked about the differences in
fresh milk and store milk – how everything affects the taste of the
milk, from what's in the grass, to what's called a 'stripe' where
chemicals are applied along the cow's spine to keep away parasites and
other uglies. This poisons the cow, too, and thus its milk. She talked
about the commercial dairy industry and the practice of tail-docking,
where they cut off the tail (without anesthesia) so that it doesn't
flick the farmer in the face when he's milking. The thing is, they
feed these cattle food they can't digest, so they end up having
diarrhea they can't control, and getting it all over their tails. If
you look at the cycle, so much of the problems are created by people,
and if you let an animal live naturally, they can take care of
themselves. However, in the case of cows, they've been bred with
people for millenia; you don't have wild cows.

She explained that each cow's milk tastes different, according to what
they've been eating and their breed. Certain cows have higher cream
content (like Jersey cows), some cows (like Holstein's) produce a lot
of milk with little cream, which is why we use them in the dairy
industry. As we were milking a Jersey and a Holstein that day, she
invited me to try some milk straight from the cow. Until now I've
neglected to mention the coffee set-up we'd brought out to the barn,
to make "cow-paccinos" - filling a mug half-full with coffee, then
filling it the rest of the way with milk squirted straight from the
udder, so that it foams at the top. Quite ingenious, I thought. If I
drank coffee, I might have had some of that.

But I did try some fresh milk. Never had it before – had to give it a go!

It was warm, sweet like custard almost, with a thinner consistency
than I expected, and a texture that left a film in my mouth. It really
tasted like warmed milk, the kind you drink before bed, with an added
depth of flavor – like the difference between eating filtered and
unfiltered honey.

I tried the second cow, too, since they're different tasting, and
found...it tasted the same. It didn't give me an upset stomach or
anything, and it was quite rich, more like a dessert. I also found I
don't terribly enjoy drinking milk. Part of it could be my veganism
and the way I don't agree with keeping animals for your own 'use,' and
part of it was knowing I don't need milk in my diet to be healthy. It
was almost as if I was prepared not to like it because it doesn't
agree with my philosophies about life, and, it's not healthy. There's
something to be said for moderation, and I know a little milk, just
like a little chocolate, will not kill me. At this point, I prefer not
to like what I'm choosing not to eat. That seems extremely
narrow-minded.

I've been thinking about eggs, too. Every day Emma lets the ducks out
of their hut, and then rummages in their bedding for the eggs they lay
in the morning. One or two eggs a day adds up to a lot; these ladies
lay with or without a male duck around, as will a chicken. It's what
they do. The reason Emma leaves the ducks in their hut till late
morning is because otherwise, they might lay their eggs out in the
grass somewhere, where they'd leave them.

In all of these arguments for eating animal products or animals,
there's always they perspective of giving back to the land; burying
the cow in the earth as fertilizer, leaving eggs out in the grass for
other animals to find or to break and melt into the earth. As it is,
anyone who flushes their poo is depriving the land of nutrients that
you've taken from the land. Consider reading the Humanure Handbook!

So, eating eggs. Taste good, not bad in moderation, have the potential
to be a little ducky. I seriously thought about eating eggs, and I
find that even thinking about eating one, I begin to feel shut off
from knowing I'm an animal, relating to animal life. This is ironic,
considering that ducks and chickens eat little animals like snails,
insects and even mice, if they can catch them. The cat caught a baby
bunny last night (which we rescued and released – ever the interfering
humans!), a hawk probably carried away a cat Emma used to have, every
time I step I'm compacting the earth and possibly killing something.
Where does this leave me? In the same place. I don't feel the need to
eat eggs, and the thought of eating animals repels me. Obviously it's
not repellant to other animals!

Here I am, stuck once again at the question of ideals and my truth.
What's right for me? That is the only question I can answer.

Rainy smiles

Ah! The rain is back and I'm satisfied.

You may think this sounds strange, since all I've been doing is
bellyaching about being wet and cold.

Well, my situation has changed. I am now living in the lap of
(comparative) luxury, with running hot and cold water, electricity,
and soft, warm bed and it's warmed up outside, too! I am living with
Emma.

I met Emma a couple of weeks ago when we took our trip down south. On
the way back up, we stayed with Emma in Lorinna at a house she's
renting/caretaking. We were following cryptic directions and towing an
excavator down a single-track winding gravel road to a town you can't
find on a map of Tassie. I put myself forward and imagined the house
we'd find amongst all this backwoods labyrinth – I saw wood paneling
inside, an area of bright light and airiness, and I thought, 'that
would be soooo nice.'

Fortunately, I was right. When we turned into the drive we were
greeted by the sight of a corrugated tin roof with windows peeping out
the top, and as we drove down the hill towards our castle in the
woods, it became better and better. A fenced garden, established
trees, the sound of a stream or river...and I found out that I'd get
to stay in my own room, and lounge on a luxurious mattress under a
doonah and extra wool blankets if I needed them. Compared to the hard
futon mattress I'd been sleeping on, under the mountain of heavy
woolen blankets back at Abeo, this was heaven.

I slept really well.

I slept in, past everyone else getting up.

It was glorious.

What was the point of my story?

Rain? Yes, it's warmed up here, so that when I arise out of bed I can
still feel my nose and the last frost we had was four days ago. When I
arrived, the afternoon was a patchwork of rain and sun, and the next
two days full-on sunshine with blue skies and little wind – just the
kind of days you're supposed to have in summer! That first sunshiney
day we both spent too much time outside, pulling bidgie-widgies and
moving wet logs. It felt great to be outside, but I'm learning I
haven't learned moderation. I need to listen to my body when it says,
'slow down!' or, 'I need a break!' The next day, sunshiney as well, we
were both a little knackered and didn't do much.

I'm having a wonderful time talking to Emma about Abeo – the community
and my experience of the reality – about communities in general, and
learning about her extraordinary life. She lived in Switzerland for 4
years and was a mountain climber. No doubt she's intimately familiar
with the Alps! One of the reasons she's here is because she's got
mononucleosis – tired all the time – and being away from people is a
way for her to rest. Course, the way she goes, she might need a break
from herself!

We do nap regularly here, and in general take it easy, with lots of
tea breaks and talking breaks and reading breaks and quiet time. Both
of us are introverts – she's a boar and an INTP, like Della.

Speaking of the Meyer's Briggs personality type, I've been thinking a
lot about my own, which I thought was INTJ. It may have been at one
time, or I may have engineered it as such, but after living so closely
with Tyler, who's the epitome of the Thinker, I don't think I am. (As
an example of Tyler's constantly flying mind, if he starts a project
and leaves it, when he comes back to it he has no qualms about
deconstructing and re-constructing what's he built if he's created a
better plan. Everything is getting constantly re-worked and redesigned
to find the most efficient and best way to do something. Talk about
perfection!) In fact, I'm so glad I'm not! The question I ask most
frequently is, 'how do you feel?' This is a question I didn't feel
comfortable asking Tyler. After a while I wasn't interested in asking
him anything, since he always gave a long-winded, scientific answer
that was logical and without personal feeling in it. Information is
interesting, but I'm interested in the humanity as well. Tyler does a
good job of pretending he's robot. He fools himself, anyway.

Getting back to this INTJ business. I think I'm an INFJ – feeling
instead of thinking. (Let me just say here that we referred to the
Meyer's Briggs personality categories all the time, about ourselves,
people interested in Abeo, and joking about what people might be.
Della moderates an INTP forum, where she learns about her own
tendencies, and we talked a bit about her independence and ability to
start things as part of that. We've also talked a lot about chinese
astrology and her chart, Tyler's chart, but that's another
conversation!) The INFJ is the counselor – a person who relates to
people, is in touch with what other people are feeling, who likes
personal time but also likes to be involved at a superficial level
with the community. Della was able to tell me a bit about this, and I
looked up the description when I got a chance. High expectations,
sensitive to criticism, highly creative...now this sounds like someone
I know!

This gives me a different reference point for myself and my actions. I
also think it won't make a difference at all.

**

Yesterday was overcast, all day long. Towards evening, I began hoping
it would rain, just for something different, but it stayed a bit heavy
and cool until I went to bed. It stays light so long here; I'm ready
for bed long before it's dark and even before the daylight has dimmed.
I wonder if it's because I'm missing a winter or because it feels like
winter here – well, spring now. I wonder how I'll feel when I get back
– like I need a winter or will I be ready for another spring and
summer? I'm almost ready to do the winter qigong set – lots of
gatherings, not much circulation – just so I don't miss out on all
that qi!

Back to the rain. When it's sunny, I feel I should be outside, working
or playing, just taking advantage of the weather, even if I'd rather
be curled up reading a book or watching a movie or just spinning some
wool. I feel obligated to 'enjoy' the fine weather, that this is a
rare chance to be outside and I 'should' make the most of it. I
realize here my use of the word should, and I know that shoulding on
myself is a self-defeating practice. No more shoulds! Do what I want,
when I want! Enjoy where I'm at!

It's so often I talk to people who are living their lives according to
the 'shoulds,' like going to college, getting a 9-5 job, getting
married, taking a scholarship and living in a town and going to a
school they don't like, being nice to someone who treats you like
dirt.

I just want to be me, doing my me thing. I'm aware of other people's
expectations of me, or what I perceive to be their expectations of me,
and it's a struggle to realize when I allow that to determine my
behavior, and when I'm aware that I'm OK, and simply being me.

Deva stories

Have you ever heard of devas?

I hadn't, until last weekend, when we visited Emma on our way back to
Lileah from the AGM. She has a baby chicken, whom she's named Deva,
after the place it came from, Deva Dell.

Deva Dell started with a man (and his family?), who was told by devas
to build a house and a beautiful garden right here in Lorinna. Well,
he did, and named it Deva Dell. On this farm there was a chicken who
went broody and then all the other chickens decided to lay their eggs
in her nest. This poor broody hen ended up setting on about 20 eggs,
and before any of them hatched, she gave up. After four days someone
found the nest, figured they were all bad and was about to chuck the
whole lot off the cliff when he heard a cheeping. He checked all the
eggs and only one was about to hatch – poor, motherless, Deva!

Fortunately, Emma happened along, and took in Deva under her
proverbial wing. The chick imprinted on her, and according to Emma,
now thinks it's a human. Emma did wonder if she would have to act like
a chicken to show this chicken how to be a chicken, but instincts have
kicked in, and Deva scratches and preens and takes dust baths. (It's
especially fortunate about that last one!) He/she is our resident
entertainment and grub pick-up. As I was pulling bidgee-widgees this
afternoon, Deva was right there at the forefront, checking out the new
turf.

But this is not the end of my deva stories.

While I was in Devonport, I picked up a magazine called Spheres – a
psychic mag with articles about feng shui and setting your intention
for the new year. I was reading an article about the beginning of the
Findhorn intentional community in Scotland. The author was talking
about starting a garden, using organic methods and by talking to the
garden spirits, called devas. He said his partner communicated with
them, asking permission and help in beginning this garden. They said
they would help.

Eighteen months later, the garden was so successful, strawberry plants
were producing a pound of fruit each per day. A well-known local
conventional gardner asked to interview the author and take soil
samples to determine the mineral and organic make-up of the soil. He
predicted all sorts of deficiencies, but when the sample came back, it
was complete – no deficiencies! The author attributed it to composting
etc, figuring no one would believe him about the devas.

Down at the Deva Dell, they don't have possum troubles. It's because
they talked to the possums, says Emma. I guess it's either that, or
electric fencing. Emma said she's tried talking to the possums here,
who are ravaging the fruit trees, and pretty much anything that's not
native, and therefore, a delicacy.

Talking to possums seems much nicer than electric fencing. Or the
other alternatives – trapping, which doesn't work because possums are
territorial (this is the opposite of what Tyler told me, but Emma is
firm in her conviction) so they'll just come back, or shooting them.

Tea Tree Incense

On our drive down to the south last weekend, by some grace of the
goddess of mercy, I had the privilege of occupying the front seat of
our rental Ute alongside Della, our resident plant specialist. She's
like an encyclopedia of plant names – much faster than looking things
up in a field guide. I asked and she defined.

"What's that white flowering tree?"
"Tea tree."
"What's that orange flower alongside the road?"
"The orange flower and stem is Watsonia, the orange and yellow flowers
are evening primrose."
"What's this field of fluffy-looking white flowers?"
"Pyrethrum. It's a plant-based insecticide they grow here."
"What's that tree with the long needles sticking straight up from the branches?"
"I think it's Norfolk Pine – it was one of the major imports Captain
Cook brought over from Norfolk Island. I think it's related to the
Monkey Puzzle tree."

Monkey puzzle trees are a permaculture plant – their seeds are
delicious, like pine nuts, I think.
You'd have to ask Della to get the real dirt.

**

With all the rain lately, I made up a new song. It goes like this:

Rainy rainy rainy rain
Windy windy windy wind
Cold & wet & cold again
When will this weather end?

It expresses some of my...not frustration, but fatigue at the
situation. It's supposed to be warm – summer! I'm still sporting two
pairs of socks!

**

Going back to the plant identification. Tea tree struck a chord with
me – it's an essential oil, so perhaps I could pick some, dry it and
burn it as incense!

When we returned with the new (to us) excavator, we had a bit of
trouble unhooking the trailer from the Ute, and the guy in the ad lied
about a few things about the digger – it's older and more used than
what he said. I put together the idea of smudging – renewing and
blessing a space – to apply to the digger, and that's what I did the
other morning.

Solomon and I walked up the hill into the gully on the neighboring
plantation (and bushwacked plenty before coming to our senses and
simply walking through the grass on the other side of the fence) and
found a bushy, spiky tree with white flowers. I crushed a leaf to see
if it smelled – yep, although I wasn't sure what of. In any case, I
picked some, pricked myself a bit, and just as it began to sprinkle we
headed home.

Later, I bundled it together and tied it with grass, then used the gas
stove to light my tea tree wand. I smudged the shed – our living side
and the tool side, then headed to the excavator so it could come into
its new life in the best way possible. Blessing with health and
longevity, I smoked in, around and under the big yellow thing. After
my conversation with Della about land-dialogue and Tyler's view of it,
I felt a little hesitant to announce what I'd done.

Solomon did that for me.

I just smiled, explained smudging, and looked smug.

Well, not really. I shrugged my shoulders and kept doing what I was
doing. It felt good to bless Abeo, to hold the intention of health and
longevity and bestow it upon the earth and our workings here.

**

The latest: I decided to move on, since I got to meet some cool people
in Franklin and Lorinna (whom you will be hearing about shortly!), so
I'm leaving Monday for Burnie and Devonport.

I'm finding that having the expectation of leaving frees me from a
certain mindset of propriety, of having the need to do things the
right way, or how I'm 'supposed to' do something, to allowing myself
to do things the way I want to. I have a limited amount of time left,
and I don't care anymore what anyone here thinks of me. I won't have
to deal with repercussions for long, if at all, so

I just realized what an interesting mindset I've been carrying with me
all this time. Trying to do things right to be accepted. That's why I
hang back until I have an example to follow, because I think the way I
do things isn't the right way, or the way of this family.

How do I maintain this psychological freedom from caring when I enter
into a new situation? Do I just plan to leave and keep extending my
stay? I'm glad I've become aware of this. Now to allow it to 'set.'

Woolie stories!

Staring into a cup of Dao Ren green tea from the extravagant order I
made from Mountain Rose, I savored the floral aroma wafting by my
nose, allowing the scent to fill me all the way to my toes.

Thank Gaia for luxuries!

It's what I've been dreaming of lately – not even extravagant ones,
like Hilton roomservice, but simple ones, like a flush toilet, a hot
shower, laundry when I need to do it. Chips whenever I want, and lots
of fresh veggies. Since we shop once a week, that's when our new
veggies come in, and whatever we get lasts the whole week. That means
veggie rationing! I remember that I used to save things, but I also
remember they went bad. Now I'm of the mindset to use what's there as
I want to, to make whatever I make with the best of what I've got and
worry about having enough when I need to. It rarely, if ever, happens
that there's not enough. Just tell my primal brain that!

The big news from the weekend is that I got my hands on some wool,
straight from a permaculture farm (which I'll be staying on later),
that's just lovely. It's smelly with lanolin and full of dirt, straw
and unmentionables, which all washes out, and it changes color from
light gray to dark brown. I've also got a wooden dowel and disk, with
which I'm planning to make a drop spindle, and today I bought two
sturdy (hopefully) hairbrushes to card it with.

So exciting!

Ever since I got here, I've been considering the question of wool. To
use animal fibers or plant? Is it humane for the animals and am I
willing to support this industry known for mulesing? When I went to
the Salamanca Market in Hobart, the best thing I found were the wool
tables, full of natural, often hand-spun and knitted beanies and
jumpers for bargain prices, and sometimes bags full of raw wool. I
almost bought some, but she wouldn't sell just a little. What would I
do with it anyway? At that point in my journey, my bag was packed full
and I had no way of knowing what I would be doing. Nevertheless, I
sniffed out two other wool shops and found some more delicious wool,
and some alpaca as well. Somehow, I held back from purchasing any.

Somehow, I knew I'd find some for free!

The ethical dilemma still weighs on my mind, although with this
farming bit, the ethics of veganism are becoming more and more cloudy
the more blackberries I chop, the more I talk to Della about the
sentience of the earth and plants, the more I learn about permaculture
and how everything works together, is interconnected and how one thing
(or many) must be destroyed to create another, the less sense it
makes. Where does it stop? At what point do I decide that this being
lives, this other being I kill?

For me, it's when they look at me.

Apparently mushrooms are closer to animal than plant organisms.

It's all a question now, and I guess it's up to what I want, what I
care about, and what's available.

I'm heading back to Lorinna to stay with Emma for a while. There is an
alternative community there, one that's more happenstance than
planned, with everyone off the grid (and thus on alternative energy)
but with internet and phone access.

I'll be honest, I'm desperate for some quiet time.

NO KIDS!

Specifically, no questions and contrary answers and running commentary.

I find that I like him much more in the morning, when I've had an
entire eight or ten hours of silence. I have to still my tongue much
more the later it gets. My mom's been giving me pointers – really,
reiterating what I'm learning already.

I've been thinking a lot about Tasmania, about community.

I don't think Tasmania is the place for the community. Currently, it's
just too cold! I'm also wondering about the immigration policy, and
our proximity to the South Pole – Tyler was just conjecturing that it
might be colder here in the next ten years because of the ice caps
melting, blowing cold air this way.

Australia just declared it officially Summer (as of Dec. 1st) and it's
predicted to be 5 degrees Celsius tonight. Double sock night. Rub
hands and toes vigorously before retiring night. Jump up and down
night. Stay in bed as long as possible until it's warm enough to get
up kind of night.

Good night.

A long weekend

Just back from the weekend.

We had an interesting change of events right before we left; two key people couldn’t make it, which meant we drove down to the South of Tasmania and stayed with Celia on her permie farm in Franklin, South of Hobart.

We were also picking up the long-awaited excavator, which meant we needed a Ute capable of towing a big trailer and holding five people.

This meant we rented a Ute in Smithton, crammed ourselves in and began the drive at 8:30 Saturday morning. Della was our driver, since Tyler’s illegal and I haven’t driven on the opposite side of the road before.

Let’s just say it was a long drive down and we were all happy to arrive.

What do I want to talk about now? I’m not giving a rundown of events – too much happened. I got thoroughly fed up with kids, I got to meet Emma, another member of Abeo, we visited Tasmazia (it was amaze-ing!) and I think I’ve got a plan for my next month or two here. As I knew it would, it’s all working out perfectly!

Farmgirl Solar Oven Buddhist Silence

I am just learning what it means to be 'on the farm.'

You yourself might wonder just what this means.

The men came tonight to cut the silage. Just as the sun was sinking behind the Blackwood trees with their sprays of foliage atop spindly sky-reaching branches, the sweet smell of freshly=cut grass wafted through the evening air, and I knew, I understood what all the stories of growing up on the farm are about. I remembered a story about a boy who would catch mice that ran out from behind the cutter and sold them to the farmhand, who tanned their skins.

Not vegan!

Was that Roald Dahl in Boy? Farley Mowatt? Patrick F. McManus? That could be it! Oh, the Grasshopper catcher was the best story! Anyone who hasn't read (or listened to it) should.

Now I've been initiated into farm life. Planted potatoes, gathered some silage this evening to dry for a hay cooker, and, we made a pot stand for the parabolic solar cooker. The sun was too weak this afternoon to do much besides heat water to very warm in the teapot, but it's a start! I found myself to be the orchestrator, and Tyler the executor of this, with S-man standing by, offering commentary and suggestions in between narrating our every move.

I find myself talking to fill the silence before S-man can cut in with his own 'didja know?' or “can I have ...?'

Mmm, silence.

Today I read in my newest Terry Tempest Williams book, Finding Peace in a Broken World, about the start of Buddhism – people turning inwards to find peace and solitude in a very busy, noisy world.

This is a skill I'm developing. I still especially cherish my mornings when no one is quite awake yet and it's QUIET. No talking! Then I can turn inwards and acknowledge and attempt to sidestep my inner dialogue. Oh, it's strong in me, that continual conversation, and new things keep coming up as well.

Just as our plans have been topsy-turvied for the weekend, I know it's all for the best, whatever happens.

Yep, our plans have changed. Instead of a leisurely 4-hour drive to Deloraine, we're headed on a marathon drive to Franklin, just south of Huonville, which is South of Hobart. Should be interesting...I'm bringing my ipod for in the car, and we'll see how it goes. It looks to be a lot of driving this weekend, with Della as the DD, since Tyler's license is expired and I have no experience driving on the opposite side of the road with a dual-cab Ute especially! I plan to fully enjoy the landscape and the hypnotic nature of car rides on small children.

**

On our weekly excursion into Smithton, I got to talk to Della a bit (always a treatl she's in such high demand!) and our conversation turned to stewardship of the land. She was saying how she develops a relationship with the land, open a dialogue, and asks permission before doing anything to see if it's right. She was saying how hard it is to talk to Tyler (Mr. Logical) about this because of what she perceives as derision and disbelief in his attitude as he silently, condescendingly listens.

I agreed it's hard when someone you care about doesn't care about the same things.

What was remarkable to me about this conversation is how familiar the situation is to me; allowing what I perceive to be another person's opinion affect my behavior, and discussing the connection with the land.

Connection with land? According to Della, everything is alive, and the land, the plants are sentient.

I agree with that, now.

I wouldn't have a year ago.

I would've acted more like Tyler, snorting in disbelief (he's more polite than that, staying silent) and considering it to be silly.

Now I think; why not be silly? Why not allow this aspect of the world into MY world? If I deny the aliveness of the Earth, of the plants and soil, if I deny what has been before me and its impact on the world, if I deny a realm I cannot see, where does that leave me? With a lot less world to explore and experience.

I want a world open to experience, full of the unknown and unknowable, that might one day reveal itself to me and I'll be speaking to faeries or land spirits or asking directions from the ghosts on the street corner. I wonder how many ghosts I've talked to? Astrologically speaking, I've a penchant for communicating with the spirit world. I haven't been aware of it in words, but my experience of the world could be very different from anyone else's, and that's what I consider normal.

It's all in what you're used to.

I remember what we were talking about – the cycle of life and death, and the active role farmers play in this as they till soil, disrupting the soil layers, and plant one thing, kill weeks and bugs, inhibit growth of anything else so that one encouraged plant can flourish.

As a farmer, I am a killer.

As a farmer, I am a plant midwife, helping to come into existence my choice of life.

As a farmer, I manipulate land, I leave an undeniable impact wherever I am.

All animals do. I am no different.

Humans evolved in conjunction with plants and animals.
We are evolving with plants and animals right now.

I am a piece of the evolutionary puzzle, I play a part in this puzzle in what I choose to propagate and how I choose to grow things.

Enter Permaculture and Forest Gardening.

Old family, new family

Well happy family day my stateside luckies! I am distinctly feeling a psychological lack of...turkey day communitarianism. By this I mean the getting-together of the nether regions of the family to cook and do garden projects and watch the day turn to even before the meal begins. On this everyday-like day here, Tyler may be gracing us with his famed Potato Things (deep-fried goodness), in honor of the ordinariness of it all.

Ahh, holidays. Some people love them, some people “absolutely detest Christmas.” (That's Della's opinion.) It's great for me this year because there's no possibility of me sending christmas gifts back home, and I probably won't be receiving any, and I may be giving some around here, if I feel like it, but since this community is based on non-consumerism, the less we create, the better, and so what I'm saying here, is I'm off the hook!

Smiles.

And tears, since I'm missing family feelings right now.

I've been talking to Della about Tyler, and Tyler about Della, and to both of them about Solomon. Elly's too little to be much more than cute, but boy do I have things to say about the S-man.

Namely: leave me alone!

And I don't know how to say this nicely so that he listens.

It seems he thinks I'm his entertainment, so I sneak off when he's eating lunch to have alone time, and creep back, on the lookout for his red gumboots, and have imaginary conversations with him as to why he has to eat what's in his bowl before he can have anything else, or why I don't want to 'look at this!' or any other thing he wants my attention for.

Today was a rough one for me. I found myself wanting to be cruel. Not even so he would leave me alone, but just for my satisfaction.

I left, instead, as quietly and quickly as I could. It doesn't actually feel good to be mean, and the mental aftermath is hell as well.

It's funny, because I compare the S-man as he is and my conception of myself as a child. I was independent, (a me-do-it child), and once I knew how, wanted to do things for myself. If I couldn't do something, loathe was I to ask for it to be done for me, I just wanted to figure out HOW to do it.

This is not the case with the S-man. If, after one or two tries, nothing happens, he brings you his problem, shows you, and asks you to do it for him. Or tells you, and asks. Or he'll just ask if he sees something he wants. Like chopsticks, when we were eating lunch, even though it became apparent very quickly he doesn't know how to use them, and was more concerned with stabbing noodles, flinging noodles, wrapping noodles than playing with them.

Yarrr!

I just didn't have the patience today.

Thank goodness Della showed up and offered me a ride into Smithton, our bustling metropolis.

Speaking of which, last night was our first clear night that was warm enough to be out in to see the stars.

Amazing!

The sky around Abeo is a pool of blackness, with Venus shining through in the West, and Orion's Belt in the NorthEast. You can see the lights of Smithton in the North. Tyler said he has plans to build an observatory here, and eventually Smithton will be submerged when the polar ice caps melt. I guess some of the ice sheets have broken apart and the sea is predicted to rise 230 feet (70m) when they melt.

Or something like that.

**

We're headed to Deloraine on Saturday, for the Annual General Meeting. I might get to cook for it, we'll look at some gardens and have lunch at a bakery and stay in someone's bunkbeds. We may get to see Emma, another member of Abeo who lives in Lorinna, a city we can't find on any maps of Tasmania, and perhaps visit Tasmazia and the village of Lower Crackpot, which Tyler says is amaze-ing. (ha!)

I've begun researching other communities around AUS, and I'm wondering what it is that I want to see/experience/visit. Looking around the ic.org website, I checked out some AUS communities like Ballintaggart on the Atherton Tablelands, a community that looks to be sustainable and is in the tropical, jungle part of AUS. Another one is idealifestyle.org, which seems to be a bunch of ideas in run-on sentences about a community based on energy self-sufficiency and sustainability.

I found one 2-person community living on a yacht, somehow managing to survive on a raw-food diet, sailing around looking for 4 more people and the ideal place to live. Oh, yeah, they had a kid listed, not pictured.

I am so much more wary of children in communities!

One community was called the Australian non-children community.

Based on people who've made the decision not to have kids.

I briefly considered them, until I realized that this was what their community is based on. Does that mean they sit around at night and make comments like; “I'm so grateful I decided not to have kids. How many kids did you decide not to have, Gary? It's so nice to have peace and quiet here, no screaming children.”

And while I'm realizing (quite forcefully today) how strongly kids impact my environment, it doesn't mean I'm adverse to having them around.

Every once in a while.

Under supervision.

Yarr! Still some angst after today.

Must...breathe..laugh...smile...relax.

What a great way to break those materialistic habits! If ever you need anything destroyed, just give it to a 5-year old.