The Whale Whisperer Visited Earthseed

The Whale Whisperer came to Earthseed and with her she brought an ocean-full of blessings. While I had seen her name in Undrowned (by Earthseed Founding Member Alexis Pauline Gumbs) it wasn’t until I read Michaela Harrison’s blog that I came to understand the medicine that she is bringing to this world.  Yes, her voice is like molasses, but there are many people in this world who carry the gift of song.  It is what Michaela chooses to do with her voice that was a blessing to me and to so many others (humans and beyond). 

I will be forever grateful to Michelle Lanier (mother of Eden) for bringing her to this land.  It makes sense that these powerful women would be connected. The first song she offered on the land was to our flock of chickens (and one rooster, Dave). They were captivated by her voice, as were we, the humans in her vicinity.  After sitting and enjoying some ginger root tea (from our garden) I shared Earthseed’s origins story and then we walked the land. 

The same bee that had been caressing Michaela’s hand while she had her tea, came along with us into the garden.  She (the bee) somehow made her way into Michaela’s shirt, snuggled up near her heart.  There was no panic, no urgent reactions, just a calm acknowledgment that the bee was there, and that she was safe.  What else would you expected from a woman who preaches oneness with all beings?  It was in that moment that I understood why Michaela’s presence was so powerful…she embodied light and shared it freely with all who crossed her path.  It wasn’t just her voice that was medicine, it was her entire presence.  

After walking through the sea of greens in our garden (collards and kale) we made our way to the Mother’s Grove.  There I shared why we had designated this area as sacred and pointed out the circle of trees with double trunks.  “Iyami” she said, or “my mother” in Yoruba, representing the feminine creative force in the universe.  Justin had shared with us before that these trees, with their double trunks forming giant V’s boldly rising up to the sky, but it wasn’t until this moment that the medicine sunk in for me. [Side note:  it is not surprising that in arborist (read: white male) terms they are considered a sign of weakness, the point where the two trunks connect sometimes being impacted by rot or disease]. 

We stood there for a moment, breathing deeply, taking in the magic of this moment.  It felt like I was being anointed by the presence of these women, by the songs that Michaela would spontaneously share, by the acknowledgement of the divine feminine in our midst.  

Michaela had this dream/vision of singing into a well, and here at Earthseed we have three.  Two of them are functioning wells, not that pretty to look at with their metal pumps and awkward coverings symbolizing their utilitarian purposes.  But there is an old well in the front of the property that hadn’t gotten much attention in years.  Seen as a risk for the younger children —because of the possibility of them falling in and the probability of lead paint— it had been screwed shut and neglected.  

Neither of these aspects deterred Michaela from transforming the moment and the spirit of this well.  The three of us stood around the well, the fourth side left open to the setting sun and our children frolicking feely in the distance, as Michaela sang into the small opening she was able to find where the two doors covering the well met.  Next to her sat the old bucket, with the long chain that descended into the depths of the well in previous decades.  Michaela’s voice carried and reverberated through that small opening, amplifying the blessing of her voice and the medicine of her song.  

After the vibrating dust particles settled, Michelle gifted Michaela a necklace with a small silver well pendant.  To remember the moment and to remember the power of pursuing our visions.  Never will I look at that well in the same way.  

As we said our farewells, Michaela held my hands and said, “may your wells always be plenty, may you always have the water you need”.  

Over the 5.5 years we’ve been on this land, we’ve gotten many visitors, often bringing blessings of love and affirmation.  There are no words that can express the lingering power of these blessings or our gratitude.  Stewarding the 48 acres of land we call Earthseed requires an incredible amount of commitment, follow-through, and work.  Yet these are the moments that remind us why this work is so important, for us and for those who stop to catch a glimpse of the goodness of this vision come to life.  

In our garden (from left to right): Michelle Lanier, Tahz Walker and Michaela Harrison

Reflections on Freedom

It seems fitting that on the day we celebrate Juneteenth, we also take a moment to reflect on our individual and collective relationship to freedom in this country.  In the last few months/years/decades/centuries we have seen the lack of freedom for black people made a spectacle and a rallying cry for reckoning with wrongdoings that have never been righted. We have been here many times before, and still Martin waits for his dreams for our country to be realized.

Then there is our relationship to freedom on an individual level–the sense of sovereignty and self-determination that we experience over our life’s energy, labor, intellect and creativity.  The questions I sit with today are: what do I still allow to get in the way of my sense of freedom?  How much of the barriers to liberation are self-created? 

My spiritual practice teaches me that craving and desire to control are at the core of my suffering, and therefore a barrier to my freedom.  In addition to this are the incessant mental loops that translate into self-created suffering that take me away from the beauty and gift of this present moment.  I have come such a long way to realizing my ancestors’ unfulfilled dreams, and I have also realized a few dreams of my own.  Yet, the next stage of evolution for me, and for humanity I’d say, is to understand that freedom is not truly given or taken away.  Freedom is a state of consciousness, available to us all, always. I believe knowing this was essential to my ancestor’s survival.

There is no denying that the current paradigm we are living within has been incredibly effective at disconnecting us from this truth.  This white-supremacist-patriarchal-profit-rules-everything system we inhabit has been prolific at implementing physical and mental intimidation tactics that deter us from questioning authority, and erase our intrinsic knowledge of our own divinity.  

Many of us are waking up to the realization that it doesn’t have to be this way.  We are clearing the path for those aspects of our lives that are truly important, learning to shut out the noise, choosing to listen to the quieter voices within and without that remind us that life is sacred.  Those of us who do get to choose how to direct our life’s energy (and it is unfortunately too few of us) have a responsibility to do so in ways that uplifts the human spirit, that counters the narrative of competition, violence and destruction. We must continue to find ways to mirror each other’s light in a world that can sometimes seem overwhelmed with darkness.  

“It is our duty to fight for our freedom.
It is our duty to win.
We must love each other and support each other.
We have nothing to lose but our chains.”
Assata Shakur

Witnessing & Unfurling

“It’s resignation”, he said.  “What I feel as a Black man living in modern-day America.”  I let these words hang in the air and slowly make their way down to the path we walked upon. The sound of dry, crispy leaves underfoot making it harder to hear his words across the distance that the pandemic imposed upon us.  My heart felt the weight of those words, of his in-the-moment reflection, of years and generations of experiencing the constrictions that white supremacy and patriarchy create for the human spirit. I wanted to hold him tight and let the beating of our hearts remind him that he is not alone on this journey. I wanted him to feel the strength of my love.  Instead, I just listened. 

We talked about what it means to really know yourself, and if it is actually possible to truly know another human being.  Of what it means to feel at home, and what it takes to listen to and heed to the needs of our souls. Of the discernment that is required to distinguish between a real need and a want, the incessant never-enoughness, striving-for-something-else that saturates our society. 

All of this was a byproduct of a group conversation we had in early December with our compañera in joy and struggle, Beatriz Beckford. She helped us to create a space where we could share with each other glimpses and glimmers of who we are, of what supports our thriving and what inhibits our growth. The seemingly simple prompts that she offered us created ripple effects in our hearts and in our connections with each other that we are still discovering.  This conversation was but one of the side-effects of the medicine we received in that two-day gathering. 

It’s been almost two months since that initial conversation took place, and I can’t say that I have any clear answers to the questions that were sparked, but I am moving closer to being at peace with the not knowing.  It’s taken me 9 years of being in relationship with the founding members of Earthseed Land Collective, and 4.5 years of living on this land to realize that we are just now beginning to really know each other.  

It brings me back to the importance of our mission statement, and it’s abiding wisdom that will bolster (and perhaps haunt us) for years and decades to come:  remember and reimagine our relationship to ourselves, each other and the land in pursuit and practice of collective liberation.

This has not been and will not be a linear journey.  This work of letting people into our hearts, being vulnerable, disclosing our hurt spots and growing edges is challenging (to say the least).  I am learning that building beloved community is not for the faint of heart, and that it requires a daily recommitment to our greater work and an ability to check our egos when they start to get in the way of our growth.  Yet the gift of this hard work is immeasurable:  the ability to connect deeply to another human being, to be supported and loved along this treacherous path called life, and if we’re lucky, to get to witness the unfurling of our spirits.  

May we all move closer to experiencing and witnessing the unfurling of our own and each other’s spirits.  

The Beginning of The End

As we commence the last month of a very tumultuous year, I feel my whole being yearn for the respite and introspection of the winter ahead. These months have held so much for our tender human hearts that I have found it challenging, impossible at times, to sit and write about the impact of these experiences in my life. I’m sure I’m not alone with these feelings.

This is the beginning of the end: of a calendar year, of a hurtful and hate-filled presidency, and hopefully… of our forgetting how deeply interconnected we truly are. 

As the sun set last night I made my way to our garden, to close up the chicken coop and harvest some kale for dinner.  The clouds were hot pink in their last dazzling hurrah before darkness.  While there I ran into Tahz, one of our master farmers and soil wizards at Earthseed.  He reached out to touch me, to show me how cold his fingers had gotten while tending to the garden.  

Much to my surprise he wasn’t at all disgruntled by the frigid weather, instead I saw a twinkle in his eyes, I would even say he was excited about the upcoming season.  When I asked if this was due to the promise of rest that winter offers a farmer, he said that was only a small part of it. What Tahz was more excited about was what cold weather meant for the soil.  

Winter also means the soil gets a moment of rest, he explained– a reintegration of sorts.  I wondered if like us, the soil also takes a moment to reflect on all that it has held and to prepare for whatever may come. 

We get to experience endings all the time in microscopic and monumental ways on this land.  Oftentimes with regret, but sometimes with sweet release and celebration. I am certain that there is more heartbreak to be experienced, more loss to grieve in the months to come. And right now I am grateful that in this in-between time, where we simultaneously get to honor the goodness and the necessity of the sacred pause.

Laughter Is Immeasurable

“Breathe, Zawadi, Breathe!” These words expressed as intervention, not during a time of distress, but because laughter had overcome my daughter.  She was turning purple, her eyes full of tears, she was laughing so hard that her basic bodily functions (like breathing) were momentarily derailed.  

There were four of us in the circle that day, three girls ages 8-13, and myself as their host and informal facilitator. It was a relaunch of our ‘black girl magic club’ that we began last year, but had been put on hold in the last few months due to the pandemic. We had opened our circle talking about the impact the coronavirus had on our lives. One of the things we all missed most was being able to be together in this way, telling stories, sharing what was on our hearts, and laughing so hard we forget to breathe.

We gathered outdoors, under the cedars, just above the pond.  We had all been holding so much in the first half of 2020. In addition to severely restricting our lives, we had all, in some way, been feeling the ripple effects of unnecessary violence and the corresponding demand for justice it had inspired.  

Our world is on the precipice of either unraveling or resurrecting—both equally uncertain and possible. In that moment there was nothing more important for us to do than be in each other’s company, remembering the divinity of our bodies, reconnecting with drum rhythms that were gifts from our ancestors, affirming our connection to a strong and resilient lineage of people who had learned to fly. 

I have made a decision not to live cloaked in foreboding darkness. Not in rejection of darkness itself, because that too is a part of life, but in an acceptance of the gloriously complex and light-filled beauty that is life.  Every single moment offers us an opportunity to choose joy—a state of being so much more deeply abiding than it’s more fickle and evasive friend, happiness.

In that moment, under those cedars, wind caressing our skin, the choice became so very easy. We reconnected with our breath—letting the waves of laughter wash out all of the unnecessary gunk. It was a full body experience of joy, just what our weary hearts needed most to survive the end of the world as we know it.

Expect the end of the world.
Laugh. Laughter is immeasurable.
Be joyful though you have considered all the facts.
from Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front by Wendell Berry