Thank you Grasshog

Day 30

The doggies killed a groundhog on our doggie walk at the park near our house this morning.

The groundhog didn’t suffer, I made sure of that with a quick and final blow to the back of the neck, an instant sever of the link between brain and spinal cord.

Revie was in his stroller, looking at the trees and sky, and I tucked the limp body beneath him in the pouch at the bottom of the stroller, and we walked back home.

Then,  in our backyard, next to the junglegym, we said our thanks to the “grasshog” as my nephew called her, skinned her, and butchered up her meat.

photo by andrea h.

photo by andrea h.

We looked at her delicate little feet, 4 toes in front, 5 in the back. And we gently pressed them into the surface of the soil to see what her tracks might have looked like.

And we made a stew from the meat with squash, and onions, and sweet potatoes, and kale from the garden.

And we marveled at the amazing taste.

And I’m telling you this,

because when I talk about reconnecting to our landbase,

I mean it not in a philosophical brain and feeling kind of way, although that is part of it,

but in a very real, knees dirty, hands sticky with blood, forehead sweaty kind of way.

I mean learning everything we can about the world around us so we can again take our rightful place in the grand scheme of things once again.

I mean learning how to grow food, and meat, and what is safe to eat in the forest and the meadow, and learning to hunt, and trap, and learning to tend our wildlands so we have greater biodiversity and carrying capacity.

I mean actually weaning ourselves off the products the corporations have to offer us. A gradual, and conscious rejection of their packaged foods, their bottled water, and their plastic junk.

And a replacing of their soul-less things with wild foods, goods we make ourselves, and the company of friends and family.

These skills will feel unfamiliar at first, and we will be clumsy.

But a sleeping part of ourselves,

will slowly awaken

And one day, when you lay down with your baby for a nap in the afternoon, you’ll smell the faint scent of groundhog on your hands, and it will call up misty distant memories, visions, of sun kissed afternoons spent amongst flowers and trees, and the sweet taste of clover, and the comforting dark of the deepest burrow.

And you will know in all your cells, and all the parts of yourself,

What it truly means to be connected.

Thank you for listening,

Love,

Natasha

Tonight, we are lucky enough to have another insanely beautiful guest post from Sarah H. tonight, one of the most passionate and rebellious women I know. I’m proud to call her my friend. Love you Sarah, thank you for your words.

Introduction

 The inspiration for this poem came from listening to Scott Mann’s September 24th Permaculture Podcast, titled “Restoring Eden: Zone 4 Permaculture with Wilson Alvarez and Ben Weiss”. The idea that humans are meant to live with wild/natural ecosystems, having the responsibility to nurture the wild, and subsequently thriving; spurred a rather deep, nothing short of- spiritual conversation. I began seeing the wild where human design dominates, asking, “If I can go to the wild, than why can’t the wild come to me?” It is an attempt to merge humanity with the wild, to foster the emergence of something new and ancient.

wild: human environment

“You were once wild here, don’t let them tame you.”

Isadora Duncan (May 27, 1877 – September 14, 1927, Russian-

American dancer)

“And the walls became the world all around.”

Maurice Sendak, Where the Wild Things Are

“To be human is Zone 4; to be human is wild.”

Wilson Alvarez, The Permaculture Podcast with Scott Mann 9/24/13,

Restoring Eden: Zone 4 Permaculture with Wilson Alvarez and Ben

Weiss

wild

the way you part the curtains

hair

black on light

wild

gelatinous coughing

into the bathroom sink-

furry moisture

chipping at the chest…

wild

dream fading

into a new

wild

self-portrait

resurrected

on the morning glass

wild salmon dawn-

quilting

stacked city yards

wild

amateur porn

frozen on an open screen;

sometimes getting it right…

a forget the camera-

look

wild bird squawk

or the delay-

of a screen door shutting?

wild bark

in shoe soles

scratching cement, between

boxcar after

wild boxcar

artists’ hot

pink neon

spray-rust

designs

sick and

wild beautiful commentary

all poor nutrition,

wild mind…

wild foraging behind

bio-diesel

greasy pizza joint

puke on a hot day smell

wild stinging of the

ether television

billboard signs

wild

monster-sized steel structures

intimidate amputated trees

wild favorite pair of

jeans sway on the line

wild friend

lipping

motor running, insect-ile

hum

wild

bronze october dandelions

stomped out by skateboards and

kids getting off the bus

wild stalks of gray-purple flowered basil

mowed-down in the fence

wild

demon traffic

organic

like rushing water

spraying

clips of radio

wild blurps of the same love song

or wild rap, salsa

maybe punk rock

wild stretch mat

forward fold

wild stiffness

wild

crunches

of fast leaves

forming

a figure dancing through the streets…

wild core

wild cure

wild stick in the mud

wild sit on a rock

wild plants in teapots

*****************************

Here is the link to the permaculture podcast by Wilson and Ben

http://www.thepermaculturepodcast.com/2013/restoring-eden/

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