7.18.16 Gratitude Pages

In times of great change and transition, gratitude can save us from the deepest sadness. Save may not be the right word. 

Gratitude is a companion, a ray of light that reminds us of the flow of things. 

Trying to escape our current state is a helpless cause, but recognizing that emotions flow in and out helps to buoy ourselves in a restless sea. 

After all, the waves give us fear and excitement in the same crash. 

The beauty lies in recognizing the unique detail within the vastness of experience, being grateful that it has come and may go.
7.3 I am grateful for time spent alone. 
7.4 I am grateful for the sea. 
7.7 I am grateful for keeping records. 
7.14 I am grateful for...

Phone was dead for a few days, so I caught up on my gratitude month notes. ~ In times of great change and transition, gratitude can save us from the deepest sadness. Save may not be the right word. Gratitude is a companion, a ray of light that reminds us of the flow of things. Trying to escape our current state is a helpless cause, but recognizing that emotions flow in and out helps to buoy ourselves in a restless sea. After all, the waves cause us fear and excitement in the same crash. The beauty lies in recognizing the unique detail within the vastness of experience, being grateful that it has come and may go. ~ 7.3 I am grateful for time spent alone. 7.4 I am grateful for the sea. 7.7 I am grateful for keeping records. 7.14 I am grateful for…

A photo posted by Saritah con h (@scrosky11) on

8.4.16 Porch Patrol

I camped out on my screened-in porch last night, which is nestled under the sweeping branches of our old pine tree.

I did this to become more in-tune with the sun and start waking earlier.

I woke up at 6 a.m. to an empty house and stepped inside to pee, although I would have like to pee outside in the cool morning air.

I was gleeful for having chosen to bring the adventure to myself.

After sliding into my bright yellow sleeping bag again, I slipped off to sleep.

Dreams of sleeping on the porch filled my mind, and soon—from my strategic position on the porch—I discovered that some neighborhood kids had stolen some plants and a surfboard from the porch!

I ran after them and asked condescendingly, “Where did you find these objects?”

Then, I returned happily to my home, having successfully completed the night’s porch patrol…and soon woke up to the sunshine through the pine tree. Snug on the porch.

I camped out on the porch and dreamt I caught some porch plant stealers. #porchpatrol

A photo posted by Saritah con h (@scrosky11) on

7.5.16 Winter in July

 

I'm listening to the earth around me on a walk. 
And the color jumps from the ground. 
A fallen, barely bloomed flower. 
A scattered bouquet, loosened by wind or another earthly shaking. 
I decide to give one another life, like the burr that catches the fur of the dog. 
~ 
I'm conscious of this. 
This is not only a small, found gift I'll slip to my partner, enjoying thoughts of him while spinning the gift in my fingers until my steps meet his. 
This is a movement of the earth. This is my impact on nature. 
~ 
We build our nests like birds, picking up scraps of the earth and forever changing it. 
We consume like wildfires and leave wakes of waste like tornados. 
We're focused on the earthquake while the tsunami soaks us up to our ears in a landscape we never imagined. 
~ 
Because it started with picking up a fallen flower and giving it to others so many times that it turned into a possession. 
Something named mine or his or ours. Not Of The Earth, the plant's, or the soil's or the cow's. 
But ours. 
~ 
Soon the waters cover our mouths and our eyes glimpse the last of our legacy. 
Voiceless, we see what the animals had seen all along. 
We see that the voiceless knew better than we did, but we fell in love with the sound of our machines and the buzz of an insulated home. 
We thought these spoke for themselves but really they just deafened our sense of earthliness until natural forces had to scream us into our senses and up to our ears in the truth. 
~ 
If we rape the earth it might just rape us back. 
But if we love the earth it can love us back unimaginably. 
~ 
Love takes time and openness. It is uncomfortable and honest. 
It's not possessive, but grateful. It's selfless and sweet. 
It's thoughtful. Like walking on a sidewalk and considering the dense earth that lies deeply beneath it. 
It's seeing the leaves fall and not taking spring for granted. 
~ 
Humans belong to the earth. The earth does not belong to us. 
A system in imbalance is a flawed system. The compass is fixed in the wrong direction and a new path must be forged. 
~
"If you want something you've never had before, you must be willing to do something you've never done." ~ T. Jefferson

I'm listening to the earth around me on a walk. And the color jumps from the ground. A fallen, barely bloomed flower. A scattered bouquet, loosened by wind or another earthly shaking. I decide to give one another life, like the burr that catches the fur of the dog. ~ I'm conscious of this. This is not only a small, found gift I'll slip to my partner, enjoying thoughts of him while spinning the gift in my fingers until my steps meet his. This is a movement of the earth. This is my impact on nature. ~ We build our nests like birds, picking up scraps of the earth and forever changing it. We consume like wildfires and leave wakes of waste like tornados. We're focused on the earthquake while the tsunami soaks us up to our ears in a landscape we never imagined. ~ Because it started with picking up a fallen flower and giving it to others so many times that it turned into a possession. Something named mine or his or ours. Not Of The Earth, the plant's, or the soil's or the cow's. But ours. ~ Soon the waters cover our mouths and our eyes glimpse the last of our legacy. Voiceless, we see what the animals had seen all along. We see that the voiceless knew better than we did, but we fell in love with the sound of our machines and the buzz of an insulated home. We thought these spoke for themselves but really they just deafened our sense of earthliness until natural forces had to scream us into our senses and up to our ears in the truth. ~ If we rape the earth it might just rape us back. But if we love the earth it can love us back unimaginably. ~ Love takes time and openness. It is uncomfortable and honest. It's not possessive, but grateful. It's selfless and sweet. It's thoughtful. Like walking on a sidewalk and considering the dense earth that lies deeply beneath it. It's seeing the leaves fall and not taking spring for granted. ~ Humans belong to the earth. The earth does not belong to us. A system in imbalance is a flawed system. The compass is fixed in the wrong direction and a new path must be forged. "If you want something you've never had before, you must be willing to do something you've never done." ~T. Jefferson

A photo posted by Saritah con h (@scrosky11) on

2.17.16 Earwigs nearby

IMG_8560Said "ok" and suddenly I'm in a torn-up teepee in a hay barn with four people I met three days ago. We spent the last hour patching up the hut and stacking the last of the heavy hay bails on the other side of the room.
IMG_8597The door creaks with the breeze and the disgruntled cows moan around us. Tomorrow we will milk them. We're surrounded by earwigs and the only solution is to sleep, quickly, before not sleeping at all.
IMG_8596Let the dull moos and the heat cuddle me up and doze, thinking of Ignacio, my toes, and how easy it was to be here.

11.13.15 Calle Las Rosas, Viña del Mar, Chile

the richest day, sweet fruit
deep plunge, creamy breeze
an aroma mixing aged and new 
like home and the future at once
autumn and spring at once
mind mixing the sweetest blend 
into one.
trusting the flow
feet overhead, head behind feet,
hands in hands
your turn, my turn.
treading sun rays, 
squinting grins, heavy contact
the ground leaves imprints
on my feet soles, 
squeezes that say, 
we're in this together but we each
play a part, or apart.
never before tastes familiar.
on the richest day
sweet fruit, deep plunge
we're never seen but we are 
something.

The unfortunate truth, as told by Cowspiracy

I’m just going to leave these here…

  1. One of the many loud and clear messages from the documentary Cowspiracy: There is no way to sustainably consume livestock and animal products. 
  2. The following quotation by Dr. Richard Oppenlander, environmental researcher and author of “Comfortably Unaware.” The title of his book just gets me fidgety in my seat, and I think it’s because I am a little uncomfortably aware.

Without using any gas, or oil or fuel, ever again from this day forward, we would still exceed our maximum carbon equivalent in green house gas emissions (the 565 gigatons) by the year 2030 without the electricity or energy sector even factoring into the equation, all simply by raising and eating livestock. 

Screenshot from Cowspiracy
Screenshot from Cowspiracy

Perhaps in a future post I can delve into what sustainable means and why it’s important to (and extremely downplayed by) the human race.