Intern Blog
12/6/18 Thursday It started out as a quiet morning and the frost still stuck to anything the sun hadn't touched. I was in motion to meet Helen at 9:30 in the common house. I got there first. We had plans to diversify my intern timesheet and she graciously volunteered to teach. We started out reading some great information about seed saving and started talking about how the annual seed swap meet may or may not be happening this year because of some complications on who would organize everything. She has such a wealth of knowledge on all kinds of different plants and their traits and characteristics. For example, different plants can flower and seed at different time in their maturity; and can even cross pollinate with different crops in the same family and create (beet + chard = bard / cheet?) inedible, mutant vegetables. Afterwards, we took a walkabout to the pantry to examine Songaia’s existing seed bank. It consist of several envelopes and folded papers filled with seeds, labeled, dated and stored in big jars; there they remain cool, dark, and safe… waiting. Later we decided to stroll through the frosty garden on our way to collect seeds from Helens study. There, in the garden, we examined the small plot of the key hole that I have plans to renovate and implement some different techniques to try and increase production and reduce labor. Once collecting the seeds from the study we found ourselves back in the common house sorting beet seeds eating toast and sipping tea. What a perfect way to spend a quiet morning in special place. It’s Spring in the garden, and we are weeding and putting plant starts into the ground. Kale, chard, and thyme have been harvested for lunches, including a notable thyme pesto we enjoyed with pasta and toast. I have been learning a lot about permaculture while watching videos with the other interns, and thought I would share some musings. Systems are full of cycles, feedback loops, and interconnections with other systems. An ecosystem is a great example of a whole made of many parts, with flows into the system (such as sunlight, water, and wind) and flows out (such as food, oxygen and clean water). A healthy system has buffers to keep its feedback loops stable, but also the ability to alter its cycles to adapt to input changes. An ecosystem is a living thing composed of many other living things, who exist in a complementary pattern. The waste of one being might be the food of another. One organism’s ability to make nutrients available to another (such as by fixing nitrogen from the atmosphere into the soil) is encouraged by the other organism making different nutrients available in return (perhaps by leaking them into the soil through its root system). Or one species may make shade, while another provides vertical structure for a vine species to climb. The more organisms there are than can provide similar services, the more resilient the ecosystem tends to be. For example, if one producer gets stressed by an unusual weather pattern such as an unseasonal frost, if a less vulnerable producer can perform that service for the ecosystem until the first producer recovers. Redundancy is a benefit - as long as it is not complete competition, in which case the more successful species is likely to replace the one that is less well-adapted. Complexity is a benefit to many living systems, but humans are challenged by it; we often feel inclined to simplify a system to make it more predictable and under our control. Unfortunately, a policy that makes it easy to use massive machinery to predictably harvest profitable monocrops also means that if an unusual weather event takes place, the whole crop can fail at once. Many famines have been caused by excessive simplification of agricultural systems, which, when they collapsed, had nothing to supplement them. That’s why it’s important to think about the long-term impact of choices that may have great short-term benefits. Scaling up an endeavor into a highly profitable enterprise is tempting, but it’s important not to do so without thinking about the consequences of also scaling up the emissions of a certain kind of waste beyond the ability of the environment to dilute or transform it. To me, Permaculture is about cultivating a complex, balanced system that has the ability to self-organize (because the many species can adjust their relationships to one another as needed for the benefit of all) and self-heal (because when one part of the system is damaged, another is ready to fill in for that function). Diversity is important, as is the co-evolution of species that work as partners. Systems with powerful emergent properties, such as making a fertile place increasingly more fertile through their activities, take time to develop. The willingness to not force the system, but let it find its own balance while patiently observing what factors adjust themselves and why is a way to help join in the dance. In that way, humans become a useful part of their ecosystem – greater than themselves, greater than the human society, a functioning part of a whole that includes every living thing in and on the land and water where we make our home. We attended the Indigenous Foods and Ecological Knowledge Symposium on May 4, 2018. It was hosted by the University of Washington’s American Indian Studies Department and Na’ah Illahee Fund. I am very thankful to Anita for organizing this activity for the interns! The keynote speakers were from the Suquamish and Puyallup tribes. The presenters were from both American and Canadian indigenous groups. The lunch of geoduck chowder and salad of native greens was fresh and locally sourced. The nettle and mint tea was very popular! I tried hemp milk and honey in my coffee for the first time.
I think during the car ride home we were suffering a little “white guilt”. The Native people of “Turtle Island” are still trying to heal from the effects of colonialism. Their stories touched us and also inspired us to do better and be grateful. Referring back to a previous question that Anita had asked about culture, I made a comment that if we are to reject our culture, what would we replace it with? Anita said that everyone in the car is looking for something. After further thought, I think that it is not American culture that we reject it is neoclassical economics, corruption of our political system by big corporations and special interest groups, and a racially biased criminal justice system that we reject. When Indigenous people talk about culture, they do not usually address those issues. They talk about their language, songs, stories, dances, traditional food ways and spiritual practices. We (Euro-Americans) have all of that. So, what are we looking for? Could it be community and sense of belonging? I mean real flesh and blood community not Facebook. Perhaps that’s why we all ended up at Songaia. I want to explore how this intentional community works. I want to grow food that nourishes my body and, in the process, also renews my spirit. I want to surround my self with like-minded individuals to build a social network that can work to change the economics, politics, justice system. We need to shift the power away from corporations and back to the people. We can form alliance with our Indigenous brothers and sisters to fight against GMO and factory farming, to advocate for their treaty rights and access to traditional hunting and fishing grounds, clean water, clean air, transition to renewable energy, etc. I also want to thank the residents of Songaia Community for welcoming me as a 2018 Intern. I am a little older than the average intern (ok, a lot older). I am grateful for the opportunity learn and grow within this incredibly supportive environment. I’m old enough to know that I still have a lot to learn! April 2018
On Saturday, I went to the volunteer event at 21 Acres and helped build a Rocket Mass Heater with about nine other people. The bricks were already laid, as well as the interior piping; we were there to finish it by filling in all the holes and creating a smooth top surface with cobb. Cobb is made by mixing sand, clay and water, which we did on big plastic sheets laid out on the grass. People mixed the blend with shovels until it had a sticky consistency, and then brought it into the greenhouse in wheelbarrows. Most of the work I did was taking glops of cobb and filling all the holes in the breezeblocks that make up the outer lining of the heater. This heater is going to be used to keep the greenhouse warm in the Winter. It burns small sticks and get up to such a high temperature that it completely consumes the fuel. It doesn’t produce smoke or CO2, just water vapor. Since half of all Washington residents still use a wood stove for heat, this ultra-efficient, low-emission type of heater, could be a good solution. It’s not hard to build, and not dangerous. It works by simply keeping a mass hot (the cobb and bricks), which slowly absorbs and then gradually radiates heat into a surrounding space. The mass remains cool enough to sit on, making it perfect for use in an ordinary room. Here is an illustration: Systems and their various and immense problems have been on my mind for a long time… I’ve been frustrated and disgusted with capitalism and, often, angry that I have to exist and be a part of it– that I routinely contribute to it! I’ve been told, often, that I need to work within it, I need to play the system, that I need to find the good and worth in it. Why? Why do we have to hold onto capitalism and re-mold it into another form? Is there not another way, a different system? Why can’t we tear it down??
I have no good answers and I’m frustrated and full of introspection and self doubt as I write this post. But this longing for a different way of seeing and living led me to seek out an internship at Songaia and to learn about permaculture methodology. I just finished my second week in my internship and I’m still grasping the basic principles and ethics of permaculture. The first week at Songaia we had a workshop on liberation permaculture and at the end of that week we had the privilege of hearing Pandora Thomas speak, a maven in the permaculture movement. This past week we were able to learn about the basic principles and ethics from Matt Powers and then at the end of the week I was inundated with information on systems thinking from Faith Addicott, our week’s guest speaker at Evergreen. Phew. This is my first post on the topic of permaculture and my exploration of it, and my hope is to continue to post about it as my understanding deepens. For me, permaculture, could be that different way of seeing– an existence system outside of capitalism. There are so many systemic problems within our current systems and most of them are so interconnected and enmeshed– systemic racism, privatised prisons (the prison system in general), healthcare, homelessness, poverty, climate destruction, food security, and the list could go on… Permaculture is a way reconnecting to the earth, to ourselves, and to each other. It's about leaving a footprint, but a good footprint and not a carbon one. I think permaculture could be connected and used within all of these flawed systems. I feel like I’m still looking at everything through a capitalistic lens and I haven’t begin to explain anything really but I’m going to end this post with sharing three books that I have discovered this week from others. These are not all on permaculture specifically, but books that explore different ways of seeing and existing: Week 1
“Where do you see yourself in the future?” I have been asked this question by friends, family, and people that I have just met. Even my inner voice has asked myself this question more times than I can recall. No doubt that at one time or another, most of us have come to moments in life where we find ourselves at a fork, having to choose only one path; knowing that it is capable of completely changing the direction of our future. It really is a scary thought, or...an exciting one! “Should I stay in Chicago or should I turn the page to a new chapter and move to the west coast?” That questions was driving in circles inside my mind since last March. I had a stable job, a very spacious apartment, great friends, and volunteer work that was very rewarding. But after living in Chicago for almost 5 years, my inner voice was telling me that my cycle there was almost coming to an end, maybe it was intuition too. Though I had some of the most wonderful memories and life lessons there, I was starting to feel that it was time to move forward. Nostalgia and fear of the unknowns didn’t help one bit. But somehow I knew that the wall that we but up to keep disappointments and discomfort, is the same wall that keeps adventure and growth out. So it was decided, “I am going to make the move”, didn’t know quite how but, knew that it was going to happen. Songaia I started to think that since I was going to be moving back to the west coast, it would be a great opportunity to see if it would be possible to be near nature and learn about organic farming in Washington state. Having a sibling who had been live outside of Seattle for a few years, and visiting the area several times, I just knew that I had to spend some time here. So my research began, I started to read blogs and looked for classes and other things that would allow me to experience the nature of the area but at the same time learn and take some of that knowledge and share it with others. I came across a website that connected people with organic farms. The volunteers would work and learn at the organic farms and the host would provide them a place to live and meals. I felt that it was just what I was looking for. I reached out to them and let them know that I was interested in their summer internship. After several emails, an application, and a video call interview, I was invited to be one of their interns. I arrived and was greeted by kind and caring people from day one. The following day, I had to opportunity to meet the other interns and work alongside them out in the garden. Being outside for a change, surrounded by plants and trees was just what I had hoped for. Delicious meals, many of them made with things we had harvested that very same day, have been a real treat. The lessons, videos, and lectures have really expanded my understanding of permaculture. I can’t believe this is only the first week. No doubt that there is many more amazing lessons and experiences in the coming weeks. I am starting to feel like the path I chose, to become a summer intern at Songaia, on that fork on the road was the right one for me. Hi community. I wanted to update you all on what I’ve been up to recently and where my head has been the last couple months since the internship ended. I wanted to tell you that I completed my Permaculture Design Certificate program. That my car had been broken down and I was sick with a bad cold for a couple weeks so I hadn’t been able to be around as much. That I landed my first freelance Permaculture design gig, and I’ll be looking for some other winter jobs around the community. But I started writing and something else came out. Thank you for reading.
Before I dive into this blog post, I’d love for you to pause and answer these questions. Share your answers, or keep them to yourself, but think about it: Uncertainty. Where is there uncertainty in your life? How do you address it? I have come to realize very recently that there is a level of uncertainty that I thrive on. I don’t like to know everything that’s going to happen. I find some comfort in leaving space for things to happen that wouldn’t if I tried to control everything. I think this drives some people crazy. I come off as naive, tromping forth with a reckless faith that I’ll land butter-side-up. Over the past few months, I’ve felt like I am learning a new language. It’s one I can translate when I’m listening, but can’t yet speak fluently, and certainly can’t understand how to completely live into its message. It’s one that lights a fire in my belly and leaves me barreling, falling, tumbling forward with seemingly naive trust in my intuition. It’s terrifying. It’s terrifying because we are taught to take measured action. If we do this set of things, we will likely get this desired outcome. I wholeheartedly believed this for many years. And you’d think that more planning, more certainty would ease stress, not create it. The truth is that those years, those moments that I’ve fallen into this attitude of control have been the most unhappy times for me. I would lie awake at night, trying to plan what I could do to get my desired outcome. What do I need to do to raise Olive the “right” way? What do I need to do to make my body look how it “should”? How do I make myself happy? How do I “fix” myself? Anxiety and depression tore through me, and I viewed that as yet another thing I needed to control. We are taught to plan, but not to listen. There is a story here that I need to tell. That’s been lying dormant, and now begs to be told. Until this point, the story was buried in layers of shame, of regret, and a bit of denial. I had no compassion for myself, and no understanding of the source of this pain. I’m still working through it, and I imagine I’ll continue to work on it my whole life, in different ways. But for now, the story up to this point wants to be told. I will oblige. For years I struggled with an eating disorder. Rather, I should say, for years I have been struggling with an eating disorder. I'd like to say I'm past it, but like depression, I don’t think it’s really something you completely recover from. It no longer consumes my every thought, but it shows up still from time to time. There’s a voice in my head that still says “you don’t have an eating disorder”, because how it manifests doesn’t fit into any classical model of disordered eating. The voice also says “you’re past this. This is something you dealt with in high school, certainly you’re over it by now”. The voice is loudest when it says “you need to control this better.” In all honesty, up until a couple months ago, I did feel like I was past it. Or at least I had it under a level of control that fit into the life I had been living for the past couple years. But right around when the internship was ending in mid-October, the disordered thoughts started creeping back in around the edges of my day. I was in denial about it at first. And then I was frustrated. And then I was furious. I was past this. I had “fixed” myself. It was under control. Up until a couple weeks ago, I still saw this as something I needed to control. I saw the overeating, the starving myself, the body dysmorphia as symptoms of the eating disorder. And the eating disorder as something I needed to “fix” about myself. Something that was innately “wrong” with me. I did not consider that maybe the eating disorder was a coping mechanism I was utilizing to deal with some greater “wrong-ness” in the world. We are living in increasingly uncertain times. If we take measured action, we may not get the desired result we’ve come to expect. If we go to school, we still may not get the job we need to pay our bills, pay off our loans and feed our family, let alone the job that feeds our soul. If we change our lifestyles, recycle diligently, get electric cars, and switch to the “paperless” option, it will not be enough to curb the disastrous effects of a changing global climate. This story of societally accepted “measured actions” no longer holds weight to deliver the “desired result”. It’s a story that is changing. And that feels an awful lot like falling apart. How do we step into this space of such uncertainty? One early morning two weeks ago I was lying awake. In the days prior I had been feeling stuck. I was toying with the idea that this disordered eating, this thing that was “wrong” with me, was actually a coping mechanism to deal with some other “wrongness” in the world. That it was a way I was dealing with a lack of something that would truly feed me. On this early November morning two weeks ago I had cascading series of realizations that I still don’t think I have fully digested. The pattern in the realizations was this: preceding each period of time in my life when this disordered way of thinking reared its head, was an instance of loss or breakdown of community or meaningful connection. That morning each of these realizations hit me in succession, until I was left weeping for and holding that 12-year-old Anita who was eating ice cream in tears after her parents divorced. That 15-year-old Anita who was coping with moving away from all of her friends. That 17-year-old Anita that was starving herself to fix what was “wrong” with her, so she could belong. That 20-year-old Anita who felt so very isolated as a young mother. The story I had been telling myself shattered, and I held 26-year-old Anita and cried. I held myself with true compassion for possibly the first time. I had been using food, or the lack thereof, to keep from fully experiencing the grief of these losses. These losses that shot me into a space of intense uncertainty, where I felt I had no control. Eating to feel false certainty, starving to feel false control. Over dinner last week, I asked a group of folks at Songaia what role uncertainty plays in their lives. Among many points that were made, Brian brought up that uncertainty is an “edge” between stories. And that, in permaculture, the edge is such a highly regarded space because it’s where the the most valuable, productive, and diverse changes occur. This has been reflected in my own life. The times in my life when I have been able to approach uncertainty without an attitude of control have absolutely been the happiest and most fruitful times of my life. When I was able to listen instead of plan. But it definitely feels like learning a new language. I am learning how to step into a space of uncertainty and really let myself feel it. To really listen to the intuition that’s guiding me in that space and let go of the need for control or certainty. What allows us to step into the productive space of uncertainty? Especially in such uncertain times, how do we value and use this edge? One of the conclusions I drew from the conversation I had with folks over dinner, is that one of the roles community plays is to provide a level of certainty that allows us to step into uncertainty. Understandably then, when I experienced the loss of community in my own life I was propelled out of that space of certainty, and left scrambling for a reasonable facsimile. But we are living in a culture that largely does not value community. Our systems are not set up to support it. Our social norms are not supportive of fostering intimate friendships. Gone are the days of growing up in a tribe, a clan, a village of people who know you. The structure is gone, but the longing is still there. To be supported. To be held. To be seen. So what do I do now? With this new knowledge of myself? Of this thing I have been struggling with for over half of my life? I am certain that countless others feel this wrongness. They may cope with it in different ways--using TV or social media or drugs or whatever else to keep from feeling a lack of community or meaningful connection. To feel certainty or control in uncertain times. So I guess the real question is-- what do we do now? Like the folks here at Songaia have been doing, we rebuild the structure that supports the longing. Like my soul-bud, feather-friend John Joseph Crotty V would say, we need to need each other. So we provide space for others to feel safe stepping into uncertainty. We plant a seed in people passing through our lives, showing them how right it feels to be held and seen. We address feelings that we’re dulling in ourselves. We allow ourselves to be vulnerable. We let ourselves believe that we’re worthy. Rebuilding community doesn’t start at the community level, it starts at the individual level. Revisiting that question I asked earlier...where is there uncertainty in your life? How do you address it? To the Songaian community: Thank you for reading. I can’t tell you how I’ve fallen in love with you all. Thanks to you, I feel held. I feel supported and I feel seen. I can’t wait to get to know each of you better on an individual level. Come have lunch or tea with me in the common house after the new year and we’ll dream and scheme. I’ll be around on many weekdays. The persimmon tree by the corner of Dorothy's house produced half a dozen tiny immature fruits! I've never seen it do that. They're so cute! I ate one. It tastes like a pale, watery version of persimmon flavor. Slightly astringent after taste. Only one seed, and it was green.
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AuthorGarden bloggers are community members, volunteers and interns at Songaia. Archives
August 2023
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