8.11.13

Una Aventura Analógico en México

Sitting in a cafe in San Miguel de Allende, alternately sippin fresh-squeezed orange juice & an americano con leche... trying to crystallize a synopsis of the whirlwind of events that brought me to this place in this moment...
inhalamos...

robots abandoned in Gringolandia, save a cell phone with a camera but no service, glancing out a tiny window as rows upon rows of fluffy lil clouds seemingly marked the topographic contours of the heavens.  The old iron eagle (or in this case, maybe juvenile falcon would more aptly describe the contraption) skirted the Gulf and headed inland over the Sierra Madre Oriental range, bound for the geographic center of our neighbor to the south.

There's all manner of bits of me that contradict each other.  For example: my current walkabout vs. my intention to minimize my environmental impact. As a human, i've gotten pretty good at justifying the ridiculous things i do, & surely this is no different.  We've each of us inherited a world quaking from the impact of our forebears, & sure, we all have a duty to regenerate the systems that we, as a species, have helped to deplete.
It seems we're nearing the end of the Age of Cheap Oil (allah akbar, wahe guru, ojala, etc., etc., y blahblahblah), and, while i know we should mindfully utilize this diminishing resource, the sad fact is that the planes, trains & automobiles will most likely keep putting along until the last drop of petrol is wrung from the belly of mama earth.

& there's a lot to explore: a whole world full of places to go, to see, to feel, to touch, to taste, to smell, to learn.  So f-word the b.s., i'm gonna hop on a few of them planes that're raining contrails on my head before this life is done.  

exhalamos...

Permaculture & the Pen & Ink Discoball


Day 1 in Guanjuato: i met my friend/guide/host/strange wood nymph Nicole as i sat on a bench gawking at a giant statue of Don Quixote y Sancho Panza.  After dropping off my pack at the little organic grocery shop she runs, we went on a lightning tour of the callejones and plazas of the city.

That day i was fortunate to meet an artist, a true maestro of line, by the name of Rodrigo Rojas as he prepared for his exposition, Narco Pop, set to open on the night of Dia de los Muertes at the Museo Dieguino in the heart of Guanajuato.  The show is a mixture of pen&ink (&blood applied during the opening!) drawings, music & dance dealing with the societal implications of cartel violence.  With my background in fine art, my love of ink drawing & my enchantment with this intelligent, well-spoken, compassionate human being all compelling me, i volunteered to assist Rodrigo in his preparations.

Fast-Forward a couple days: in the museum that feels a bit like a crypt, staring at a JPEG of a discoball, attempting to capture the image in ink with less than a day until the opening, I began to feel frustrated and get lost in the details...

there must be some evolutionary advantage to the adoption of belief systems.  choosing a lens through which to view the world surely must aid in the navigation of reality, provided, of course, that one doesn't get caught in a loop of fanaticism.

As much as permaculture is a design science, it also holds within its vast umbrella the hallmarks of a belief system: a central core of ethics surrounded by principles capable of guiding us through our tasks and duties.  No wonder so many folks get a bit dogmatic. Be kind.

As my frustration nearly boiled over, i remembered that one of my primary goals on this adventure is to practice permaculture, & it is a practice, a sadhana: more a way of life than a profession.  Claro, the most difficult permaculture principle to assimilate for me has been this:
Design from Patterns to Details
it's annoyingly easy for me to zoom in on some tiny detail that turns me on and accidentally neglect the bigger picture, but by stepping back & observing, then designing, overall patterns, details fall into place. in this way all the tiny elements of a design or a drawing or a life fit into the context of the whole.  consider the spider constructing it's web: she doesn't start in the center because it's the most interesting bit when it reflects the morning sun off myriad droplets of dew, she begins with the overall structure and meticulously follows the pattern she's established until the whole web is a series of interconnected strands: an incredible display of functional beauty. A huevo, don't forget to remember.

 Temazcal y la Luna Nueva

so, off the soapbox & back to the narrative... discoball done, the museum began to fill with folks decorating for the Dia de los Muertos festivities the following day.  Pens packed and pesos pocketed, i made my way back to the store (hereafter referred to by its proper name, Natura) to meet up with Nicole.

As night fell on the city, she led me up the callejones to a nondescript door.

It's humbling to be a stranger in a strange land --not fully understanding what the people around me are saying & unsure of the customs & social norms.

After ascending the cave-like path through the old wooden doors --up into a garden filled with medicinal herbs, a raging fire filled with las abuelas (the grandmothers: volcanic rocks for the sweatlodge), & a cloth-covered low dome-- i was directed behind a curtain in the corner of the garden to disrobe.

Carolina, the medicine woman (?), purified us before we crawled through the door of the temazcal. As we smeared our bodies in a mixture of clay & chocolate, a young man began transferring las abuelas from the fire outside to the pit in the center of the dome.  Bienvenidas Abuelitas. Despite my lack of spanish comprehension & with some help from Nicole, i was able to understand that we had passed into a symbolic womb of mother Earth and we were to pass through three more elemental doors: water to air to fire, before passing back out of the Womb and back into Life.

The heat, the heat. water and fragrant herbs strewn on the red hot rocks. sweat pouring rivers.  in the warm wet dark, Carolina's voice rapid y melodic. tapping the beast within. fire consuming the detritus of my derelict heart.

 How is it that Life provides all the necessary experiences to become whole, to heal, to grow?

No se, no se.                                                

Must be one of those miracles i've heard so much about.







Popular Posts