permaculture and poetry

Last night we went to permaculture class and learned about stacking functions  – (I’m adding a bunch in) one thing to do many: like when you go to town and go to the grocery store, the library and the post office. Like when the orchard grows you apples and mint and asparagus and feeds the sheep too.

And this way that we live, someone planned it that way, but I say, let’s try again, this isn’t workin’. The part where the bankers get rich from moving our money around while the farmers can’t even make it in most towns. The part where we don’t have enough time, but we know what happened on that tv show last night.

In writing class we’re looking at slam poetry and I’m in love with who I could be if I could just dive into the flow and go a tiny bit slower. I’m in love with the apricot blossoms and eating fresh greens. I’m in love. But so often the world feels like a scary place that I don’t want to face the consequences of our actions – I don’t know how to embrace this. The satisfaction that the big businessmen have for selling us a lifestyle that wore out yesterday. It’s worse than a carpetbag salesman ’cause we’re still buying and someone planned it that way.

So now. Can we make a difference, yes. Can we make enough of a difference to turn back the tides and run time the other way – I don’t know. But, is there another show? If I’m not the hundredth monkey, maybe you are – and maybe I’m going to learn to play the guitar and see if I can be happy right where we are.


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