These were the words of a very sweet and inspiring young homesteader that I was privileged to meet yesterday. He was referring to growing plants, although the application of the principle is universal. When he carries composted fertilizer to his plants, he tries to so with an attitude of love. Otherwise, he said, if you feed your plants frustration-laced compost, they will take that on and you’ll end up taking that in again when you consume their fruits.
So – love in, love out!
When we arrived on his land we were offered a tour. We were shown the shelter where he and his partner currently sleep: a sturdy structure with a roof and tarps that closed it in on three sides. They will stay here until the tiny home they are constructing is ready, hopefully by Thanksgiving. There was another roofed-but-partially-open structure where food was prepared and enjoyed. Also a composting outdoor toilet. Little walking paths snake through the land where he has planted fruit trees, chestnuts, and a vegetable garden among the previously established green nations in this corner of the planet.
This young visionary embodies a deep understanding of the interdependence of all life. He plants for generations that will inhabit the land long after he has finished his earthwalk.
May his vision of reality gradually take root in our collective consciousness. Our survival depends upon it.
The magic of connection – from one side of the planet to the other – through 9 yards of fabric.
As you know if you’ve been following my blog, I have begun studying Bharatanatyam with Supratim Talukder, a teacher in Kolkata. Santasree Sasmal, a friend of my teacher and an accomplished performer and teacher as well, agreed to teach this awkward westerner the intricacies of draping a saree for dance.
So, today, as my day was beginning and her day ending, we met online.
The 9 yards of a saree hold incredible potential. In expert hands (like Santasree’s), it can shape-shift from a half-saree or dhoti-style drape for dance, to an elegant full saree with exquisite variations for every occasion. In hands like mine, however, more often than not, something is created that resembles a floppy mess.
My first stumbling block: I was convinced that my left side was my right, and asserted this falsity with conviction… until I realized my error, and continued with a little more humility. But every time I encountered a difficulty, Santasree, exhibiting an abundance of patience and good humour, found a novel approach that resolved the issue. You don’t have a cord to tie around your waist? – no problem, just tie the saree to itself. No half saree – ? Aha. Let’s fold the top third of the width down… When I was dismayed by my complete inability to create pleats with Santasree’s one-handed lightning accuracy, she showed me how I could lay the pallu on the floor and do better.
Many thanks to this wonderful performer and teacher who took the time today to reach halfway across the planet and connect with me, through 9 yards of fabric!
Interesting territory today. He asked me to use my own movement vocabulary to explore the theme of birthing.
This takes me into some pretty deep waters. My own experiences birthing my four children, of course. And… the birth of my first grandchild! – and the rebirth of the light at the imminent solstice – and a friend’s story of a woman pregnant and on the road during the first months of the lockdown in India, giving birth – and the Christ, born into poverty in a stable –
– and the Earth Mother groaning to birth our world.
And the ways we’ve systematically destroyed Her creation…
It will be interesting to see where this takes me.
That was the last message from my new Bharatanatyam teacher. And I’m spun back into the Patanjala Yoga Darshana, 1.12:
[The vritti states of mind] are stilled by PRACTICE and dispassion.
The ordering of the two requirements to still the mind is significant: first, PRACTICE. After much practice, the ability to remain dispassionate ( Bryant) , or, in other words, to embody surrender.
This translates perfectly into the world of dance. Learning to dance within a specific tradition requires enormous discipline and constant practice. At a certain point of mastery, the possibility of dissolving into the flow of the Holy Mystery in which our particular bodies are embedded, arises.
This surrender allows the individual dance to merge into the Universal Dance – into the wild and whirling dance of Lord Śiva’s great Tāndava…