Friday, May 16, 2008


Okra sprout and sundial
~ 9am (CDT) this morning

I am the slowest person I know. Blind people pass me on the side walk — walking my direction. Friends wipe their mouths after dessert and look for the check while I am still relishing the salad and anticipating the entrée. Even bicycles keep the myriad details in the scenery going by too fast for me, so mine remains by the front door being covered in vines while I walk everywhere. When I really enjoy the wisdom of the wit writ in a book, I limit the quantity of new ideas taken in at one sitting rather than turn pages all night for the pleasure in the prose. I never ask folks questions about themselves, knowing they will volunteer what they care I know by their own warming to me.

This all goes to demonstrate how surprised I am upon discovering the remnants of the rat race pace whose fumes still infect my metabolism way back here in the cheap bleachers whenever I get impatient for seedlings to sprout or blossoms to bloom or fruit to set or weather to change or seasons to pass. Content to rise before dawn, sit in my potting shed, sip my ganjava brew, and join the flowers, leaves, sleeping dogs and shadows as they track the earth’s rotation beneath the energizing aura of the radiant sun, I yet find myself sketching lines and numbers in this journal to ideate several ways to mark its 15°/hour pace; with long, thin slots admitting light for only two minutes on either side of each hour or with a single nail driven into a south facing surface. I went with inserting a beautiful painted chopstick into the garden at 30° 14’ 39.57” (courtesy Google Earth precision) pointing north at the pole star and placing small pebbles (courtesy natural earth provision) in the hourly shadow on the soil. I’ve planted a peach seed beneath the whole arrangement whose disruption I welcome and try not to anticipate as I learn to go slower even yet. I may yet catch up with nature’s tempo.

At the end of the day I realize I have done nothing but follow my body’s inspirations around and observe the results like an embedded journalist. Yet the compost gets turned, the garden weeded and watered, the chickens fed, eggs collected and the trellis gets reinforced against the burgeoning jasmine arching over the shed. I often question whether I am running the show or merely doing my body’s bidding while claiming responsibility for the good acts and blaming the environment for my snafus. It gets pretty hard to tell sometimes what with nature being on both sides of my skin.


Pisces Iscariot said...

Nice piece - contemplative; peaceful and earthen.

Lilwave said...

I always knew you were a hobbit with a computer. I love that. So peaceful.

Anonymous said...


What a great post. And what a great perspective. I must say that as an artist that works at home, I can relate to a similar progress of the day, however, I have a hard time slowing down. I am always eager to jump into twelve things at once. A multi-tasker's joy. However, I love the days that move easily from one unplanned activity to another without being distracted by my other enthusiasms. I'll keep working on observing the speed of nature with meditation. After all, "Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished" -Lao Tzu

-with love,

gregra&gar said...

Ah, my favorite commenters return — thanks, Pisces, Lilwave and Amberymous. I am glad you liked this post. It's been over a month since I had the peace of mind to offer anything but bummer bitching since that movie about the FDA and Monsanto which I had to take down. That coupled with learning a soul mate has gone over to the dark side sent me through some pretty deep depression even for me..

Pisces Iscariot said...

Sometimes the cathode shit piles up so high that it is difficult to see the light - sometimes the herbal remedies are necessary to maintain equilibrium ;}

gregra&gar said...

Precisely — the function of the ganjava — to differentiate the pixels back into myriad photons so there is nothing that is matter, or that matters, for that matter.

Minx said...

Living in the 'now' means letting the heart rule over the mind. Humans are conditioned to live by the head - it is a slow learning process.

Welcome back to the moment.

gregra&gar said...

Hi Minxy,
Living in the now dispenses with either form of dominance of the moment; by the heart with the past (nostalgia, regret) or by the mind with future (hope, fear) as fresh perceptions of life as it is guide one with all too obvious examples of the natural curve.

You have welcomed me back to a moment in which you've been quite absent your saucy self, young lady. One hopes your reaching out shows signs of the healing moxie of our foxy minx.

Lilwave said...

These comments spark some interesting thoughts in my mind on what is the most peaceful way to live with your life experiences. I think it is human nature to constantly analyze what to do with the past, present, and future mixed with head and heart.
It's like a recipe. Too much or too little of one part makes something meant to be wonderful turn into a disaster.
If I had to guess my personal recipe it would be as follows:
1. One thick portion of the past with the fat removed.
2. All of the present that you can get your hands around.
3. A pinch of the future for taste.

Use your head to stir it together until smooth.
Set your heart at an extremely high temperature and bake until golden brown.

Note: Cooking time is unknown so don't set a timer. Do not under cook.

Live peacefully and enjoy!!
I realize some may prefer various herbs and such to spice it up but be careful not to disguise the taste of the main ingredients:) (Haha!)

gregra&gar said...

What a wonderful recipe, bravo. Especially the caveat about proportioning the spices to not aberrate the natural flavor of the meal. I stay just under the known lethal dosage. ;°)

Minx said...

I am indeed starting to heal, Todd, and just sticking my head above the parapet little by little.
My moment is new, a bit scary, but it is offering fresh tastes and experiences - how can I refuse?

A.Decker said...

I still fervently wish, actually wish, that days were 30 hrs. instead of 24. Hurrying sucks.