The Zephyr ~ (A Stream of Being)

A restless energy overcomes you and you know again that it's Time, so you walk without the notion of going somewhere.  Each movement feels most intentional.

The last sliver of sun disappears from view; the landscape takes on more muted hues. You continue on and on until you are well apart from neon lights and bustling shops and the hums of engines.  A steady East wind swallows the ambient noises associated with human life, while vigorously licking the bottoms of your outstretched palms and the tips of your bare toes.

The loneliness...

The brewing anxiety...

The confusion...

Each time a feeling emerges, it's blown just as quickly back.  The only thing withstanding the mighty gusts is the will to place one foot in front of the other, carving the path with every step.

You are drawn to an unmarked hillside, so you begin to climb.  Your nose welcomes the foggy blanket that engulfs the dry, desert air.  Something new is about to blow in, you whisper to yourself.  You find a comfortable place in the sand and you sit there

patiently,

silently,

until you forget to remember how much time has passed...

The bounteous moon peeks through the thick fog,

Refracting its pale blue light in strange directions,

Illuminating the sand beetle slowly making his way South,

Leaving tiny footprints,

...that disappear behind him.

And then, a sudden shift in the wind

As a new energy flows in from the West:

In that still moment you hear the Calling.

And so you stand between undulating waves --

Orchestrated by the moon's gentle tug,

And the sea of grains which dance to the zephyr's soft breath.

Something makes the pain and loneliness disappear,

Assuaged by the warmth that rises from the Earth,

The sand that moves across your feet,

The fog that turns to warm rain,

The ravens that fly swiftly past,

Calling out a name that sounds somehow familiar.

The emptiness that echoes... echoes... echoes...

Past the ridges and through the gulleys and back to you again.

Pulling you closer to a center that you cannot see,

Towards a song heard only in silence.

You touch the fabric of empty space,

And drink sweet nectar from Jangwa's gourd.

It was there all along --

You were never apart from it.

It exists in a realm that the mind cannot touch;

You must simply listen from a different place

To hear its gentle call: life’s singing bowl.

And you'll see that it cannot help

But flood right in at your feet like the sea.

So dip your toes into the source,

And dance across the shifting Earth

Towards your center.

You need not ask where that is;

Your essence already knows,

What your mind cannot.

There’s nothing left to prepare,

It’s always been ready, waiting.

You must only summon it with your silence,

Allowing other things to come into play.

And you’ll feel things shifting into place,

So effortlessly.

Are you feeling hesitation?

Wait -- you’re almost there!

Take the dial, and turn it down…

Until things get very quiet…

Now, go.

And do whatever it is you already know
You're meant to do.

Fazenda Flor do Cafe

Fazenda Flor de Café, framed by steep canyon walls of the Chapada Diamantina, is run by an incredible woman named Brigida Salgada. Brigida left her job in the private sector over a decade ago because she sought a spiritually-fulfilling livelihood in which she could have a more positive impact on her environment. Today, she runs a beautiful organic farm with dozens of crops ranging from mango trees to garden vegetables to her primary crop: coffee.

I began my work at the Fazenda Flor de Café at the end of April, which happened to coincide with a weekend seminar that Brigida was due to give a group of farmers and laypeople in the small village of Capao regarding the biodynamic farming technique. A fellow WWOOFer and I both attended and learned how more and more farmers are beginning to use a technique that views the farm as a single, living organism whose interrelationships are refined to create a self-nourishing system which does not rely on chemicals, pesticides, synthetic fertilizers, or other staples of conventional farming. Biodynamic farming uses a holistic approach, seeking to balance and harness the energies of the earth and the sky to produce delicious, organic food. Brigida, a seasoned implementer of this technique, taught the course alongside her son, Fabio, who works with agriculture in Seabra.

A typical day at the farm involves rising with the sun and enjoying a delicious breakfast of couscous, fresh fruit, and a cup of the fazenda’s coffee before setting out to the fields. I happened to arrive in the midst of harvest season, so our days focused mainly on picking coffee beans, soaking them, and laying them out to dry in the concrete area behind our kitchen. Among my favorite memories from working at this farm were all of the conversations that I had with Brigida in the field while harvesting the coffee. We talked about politics, women in farming, biodynamic coffee, and much more!  Brigida’s endless enthusiasm for answering our questions and offering her insights greatly enriched my understanding of how farmers like Brigida are transforming the face of agriculture across Brazil, setting the standard for holistic approaches that promote sustainability and social responsibility.

The Fazenda Flor de Café is a hidden gem in the heart of Brazil --- in addition to collaborating in producing delicious, organic food, the farm is an opportunity for an authentic cultural exchange. Come to learn more about the language, the biodynamic farming technique, the local customs of the people living in the Chapada Diamantina, and to visit one of the most stunningly beautiful areas of Brazil. Because there is no electricity at the farm, it offers a rare escape from the electronics that tend to dominate our lives, allowing us to relax amidst the natural beauty that surrounds us in all directions, including the thousands of stars that glitter above the horizon as the fireflies light up the fields below. From the first moment that you set foot on the farm, you will realise that you are about to become a part of something special.

If you are interested in WOOFing in Brasil, biodynamic farming, or the Chapada Diamantina, please contact me for more information.

Also, do check out this beautiful blog entry from another WWOOFer and this wonderful article in Portuguese.

¡편집병!

{paranoia, paranoia}

Blasen stoßen hart aneinander;

Blasen mit Augen, die nur aus sich selbst heraus sehen.

Wann werden sie platzen?

vor den Ufern

Langsam aus dem Schlaf auftauchend, heben sich die Augenlieder und lassen Land erahnen. Ruhiges Meer, schon immer da, seit Urbeginn, scheint mich treiben zu lassen vor den Ufern im Nebel und ich spüre, dass ich kurz vor der Küste zu Hause bin. Da, wo man Schiffe, an Klippen zerschellen. Da, wo man sich nach der Weite und dem Hafen sehnt. Da, wo alles möglich ist, weil es im Nebel verborgen liegt. Hier steige ich auf das Dach des Schiffs und rieche die Melange von Erde und Meer.

So treib ich im Nebel dahin, an den Küsten entlang, obwohl ich schon längst den Anker geworfen hab.

-- a quote long since buried in time, R.L.

The pressure mounts; energy builds; the geysers steam; an explosion is imminent. The ubiquitous smell of sulfur relentlessly permeates my senses. The water begins to spill and pour and flow over the edges of nature's caldron; bubbles crackle and pop delightfully. I look in the distance as a solitary raven gnaws at an over-picked carcass, trying desperately to satiate its hunger amidst the boiling brew. Steam obscures and distorts my surroundings. Cold, wet air enters my lungs but it cannot cool the molten emotions which push at my core, attempting to release themselves through my mouth but are held in by my tongue.

Fatigued. Restless. Simultaneous ambiguities. Floating through the sky alone on a moonless night. Cloud-surfing under the luminescent stars--paint splatters on the blanket of the cosmos. Heaven lies directly outside. Dreams fade in and out with the patterns of the wind. Raindrops tap. tap. tap. on the window in the cockpit. The light from the beacon reflects off the pillowy formations, refracting light in strange directions; darkness pools in others:

the shadows of angels on my bottomless doorstep.

Sleepy eyes awaken to a vast valley of blue, framed by snowy, jagged peaks of hardened earth, not yet eroded by friction---the indifference of nature dipped in sugar, inviting me to play, compelling me to seek.

Here, there is only


silence.




-Space.-




{Wonder.}



This was my weekend.
These are my dreams.

(9/30/2006)

Turn off the TV.

Korea in Colours

A sleepy sunset...

the midday fog...

and the morning chill of dawn.