the Great Work

I am embarrassed to admit that there was a time when I considered any flower which didn't have a fragrance hardly worth the trouble. Those were the pre-Kyloe days. I know better now. Which is why I'm wondering if we could ever have too many Tecomaria's (Cape honeysuckle with none of the classic honeysuckle fragrance) around the place. They're at their best now, and the sunbirds love them.

In gardening - in life generally - it's not the best idea to put humans first... people as the centre & clincher of every argument. This anthropocentric obsession has got us into a lot of trouble, and the way to get out of it is through a recalibration of our place in the scheme of things. A re-reading of what the great, wise Thomas Berry calls, The Great Story - the wondrous narrative of the universal unfolding of which we are but a part. Call it by the smaller, more familiar terms - evolution, web-of-life - we are woven into an ancient, ongoing, exuberantly creative life story much, much, much greater than ourselves. I like that. Look up at the sky on a clear Karoo night, and you'll know the truth of it.

This remembering of our own Great Story, and the re-shaping of our life to be congruent with that, is what Berry calls The Great Work of our time. In a world which - unarguably I think - has lost its way so completely and so dangerously, I have no better suggestion than Berry's. I like the idea of a personal life which engages with The Great Work, which honours & benefits ALL of life.

Start planting, people

Two bits of news today: the first tells me that "the world" has finally woken up to the fact that there is a looming food crisis. People are going hungry, and it's going to get worse. A lot worse. I don't need to go into the evidence here. The statistics are frightening enough for the ever-vulturine disaster-hungry media to have noticed - the facts & the figures will get headlines & newspaper columns, and it'll all be in the public domain.

So now that we know this, what happens next ? Another couple of Task Groups, a Summit or two, a spike in vapour trails over Africa as Delegations flit to and fro - squandering their dollars & fossil fuels in the exciting divertissement of "Find the culprit"...

And then we'll have a Resolution, followed by an Amendment to the Resolution, and a Conclave to vote on the Amendment; and we'll establish a Council to design the Protocols with which to implement the Resolution; after which there will be a rift in the Council over the fact that the entire Strategic Plan for Global Food Security rests on a premise of ethnic/racist/non-PC bias which requires an Ethical Repositioning founded on a Broad-based Grassroots Consensus which can only begin after an Inclusive Consultative Process - and we have another spike in vapour trails over Africa...

While, in the mean time, people are hungry and getting hungrier.

My second bit of news today arrived just as I was reading about the global food crisis. The Man walked in and announced: The pecans are ripe. Well, I would challenge anyone to come and harvest pecan nuts with me, on a day when "the world" acknowledges its food crisis, and not connect the dots.

Plant your own to eat your own.

Living in the margins #2

Discomfort is not the enemy. Fear of discomfort is. Sweat is a small price to pay for the view of a more distant horizon.

Let the Safe & the Sensible have their predictability & comfort. Perhaps they're wise. But they will never know the smell of summer bleached savannah grass, or sun-baked Karoo rock with, overhead, a bluer blue than any they will ever see.

They will not know the exhilaration of wild winter weather on top of a snowy mountain, with the sleet flying horizontally, stinging your wet skin, and the air so clean & crisp it feels as if it had just been newly created.

So - allow yourself to fall in love with the extremes. Discover the winter moods of the beach when all the Gautengese have left. Walk in a high wind. Climb a mountain in the rain. Cross the river on foot. Allow yourself to get wet, sweaty, hungry & lost.

Hear the silence in places that are empty of people. Take your life off-route for a while.

Life is much richer in the margins.

learning the Laws - the hard way

There can be few pastimes more pleasant than a bicycle ride in the country – farm roads, autumn coloured vineyards, all that wonderful clean country air. At least, someone must have spread some kind of super-potent fertilizer around, or maybe there’s a dead rodent somewhere behind the bushes. Not to worry, it’s all nature’s aroma. The choking dust from speeding, disdainful 4x4s – they just don’t know what they’re missing. Just be grateful that they DID miss the humble country cyclist, puffing her way to fitness and all sorts of profound insights. Here’s one of those insights: This is a more effective & personal way to be introduced to Universal Laws than watching The Secret a dozen times.

#1 See that rock or pothole up ahead ? You will not be able to avoid it, swerve as you might – you will connect with it. It is The Law of Attraction.

#2 Halfway up any hill you will notice a merciless increase in both distance and gradient. It is the Law of Growth.

#3 After a certain amount of time on an inadequately padded saddle, an evil stretch of corrugated farm road will teach you that Everything in the Universe is Energy. Everything that exists, moves. It is The Law of Vibration.

#4 Approach a stretch of deep sand, especially on a slight downhill, and you initiate a sequence of doomed events, beginning with the first wild sideways maneuver & ending in utter humiliation. It is The Law of Cause and Effect.

#5 However clearly you envisage your afternoon’s ride along country roads, you will be blessed with a richer and more varied experience than you could have anticipated. The route will be longer, steeper and rougher than expected. Everything will hurt more than expected. No matter how twisty your route, somehow the wind will always manage to be a headwind. You will have a puncture. You won’t have a repair kit – and even if you had, it wouldn’t have helped because you won’t have a bicycle pump. You will realize that, although you do want to get fit, this is just Too Much - it's a h-ll of a lot more than you bargained for. It is the flippin’ Law of Abundance.

honey, sugar & beer

The little Tanquana's are flowering now. Sweetest of honey smells - best enjoyed on hands & knees with the tip of one's nose covered in pale golden pollen. An autumn ritual, in remembrance of the dear friend who created this part of Kyloe. His life was in crisis, his world crashing around his ears - and he did this unbelievable thing. In a blustery, unmerciful, sad wind he came and quietly made us this karoo garden - full of life & hidden treasures. Like the Tanquana's now reminding me of just how much people can bear, and the grace with which they can do it.

Some years ago we were filming in the Eastern Cape - a documentary about people living & coping with diabetes. One day we were working with medics & patients in an East London hospital, and arranged to film with one of the patients in her home in Duncan Village. She'll go with us and show us the way. All very sociable for the first few minutes in the combi - until it became clear that the lady was giving completely random directions. We were criss-crossing all over, in&out of the city - and let me add that the cameraman had turned up that morning with a hangover, and an attitude of thunder & vitriol. And he's driving.

It was complete farce, especially when the penny finally dropped. Our lady was an advanced diabetic, and years of neglect had brought the inevitable consequence. She was virtually blind. She was trying to direct us from memory.

When we eventually got to her home, I was staggered & humbled. The interior of the little house shone with jewel colours. Everywhere. The palette of an extraordinarily happy & cheerful artist. And in the corner, the most massive chest fridge I'd ever seen. Our lady, realizing that her "Sugar" was robbing her of her sight, her mobility & her ability to continue to work, had found a way: she would supply the local shebeen. Now she had an income, and even more importantly - secured by a giant padlock, and at the perfect temperature - a place to store the key to her survival. Among the hundreds of beer bottles, her precious supply of insulin.

Living in the margins #1

Full moon in the Karoo, and the night-jars calling.

There's a little karoo shrub that only begins to release its fragrance when the comforts of the day have gone. Pure, heady vanilla which richly repays my blundering into thorns, sniffing my way through the veld. Unspectacular little bush by day, although prettily covered in creamy-yellow flowers - it is a flamboyant performer, in secret, when people are sleeping.

Of course, its performance is not for my sake. Its perfume is not aimed at attracting my attention. I am irrelevant. A chance passer-by, surprised & delighted by this encounter with a life-system that doesn't require my attention, or my approval. Left alone, it is sufficient unto itself.

Like so much else in the natural world - Life busy living. While people are sleeping.

Life is richer in the margins.

meeting the Dragon

It wasn't the most promising setting. In fact, it's the sort of place I’ll only consider when I cannot find new-season citrus anywhere else, and am prepared to brave the hygiene challenges of this last-hope shop. And there they were - Pitahaya - Dragon fruit.

"Cactus Fruit" on the stick-on label. And of course they are - but how much more exotic than our familiar prickly pears. And my research tells me there are several different Dragons - even a golden one. Imagine that. Golden Dragon for Dinner.

Well tonight my outrageously Pink Dragon will join translucent amber stars of carambola, golden gooseberries, and deep purple figs on my dinner plate. A feast.

2 surprises

Parents in the UK are being warned against "feeding their toddlers too much fruit & veg" - it's DANGEROUS ! Scientific study nogal. Well, ever since I've discovered the truth about Santa & the Tooth Fairy, and the fact that science can prove that smoking is actually GOOD for you - as long as the scientific study is subsidized, if not commissioned by, Big Tobacco - I've learnt that media reports require a lot of salty seasoning. But toddler health being damaged by "too much fruit & veg" ? That is, shall we say, unexpected.

So that was the first surprise. Here's the second:

Remember my Quest for the Perfect Avo ? The big rugby ball avo's ? An email message tonight from London - avo trees in a PieterMaritzburg garden - size sounds right, as does the description of its taste. There's someone who's going to PMB shortly and can bring seedlings. So I ask him. OK, but he's got 3 of them growing in his garden already - they're small - be about 8 yrs before they'll bear. The surprise ? The man with the 3 possibly-giant avo trees: my brother. Yes. Lives 2 hours away...

8 years is a long time to wait though. So, the hunt is still on. Anyone out there who can put me in contact with the giant (rugby-ball size) avo's - I'm listening... (Although there are times when I feel like SETI - the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence people - always listening for a signal which never comes...)

Don't be a pain: Rule #5 of 5

KEEP A SENSE OF HUMOUR
You will be given a great deal of advice. Depending on your company this could be medical, psychological, culinary, or sexual. From “All you need is a big juicy steak”, to “You need to have your head read”, to the graphic outlining of the gratification of needs you never even knew you had.

Your best strategy will be your sense of humour. Don’t get defensive, don’t get angry, don’t argue. Silly, mocking, even aggressive or offensive comments might be aimed at you - but they will have absolutely nothing to do with you; they have everything to do with the author of such comments. This sort of thing comes from ignorance - even unkindness - and is nothing more than evidence of someone’s inability to encounter you, on this journey, with elegance.

Just laugh it off, and move on.

Foraging

Heard about this guy on the radio: Fergus is going to spend one year just foraging for his food. If he’d been in South Africa, we’d say he’ll be eating from the veld. As it is, in the UK, he’ll be eating from the forests & the heaths & road verges & hedgerows and so on.

I think that's a lovely idea – living off the land – eating what nature provides. Well, the idea is good. Not too crazy about Fergus’s execution of it though – he described a meal that included pheasant breast. What ? Pheasant breast for someone who forages ? Yep. Road-kill. Which is where I part ways with Fergus.

Just imagine if Fergus had been a fruitarian. Now, that would have been fascinating. I have to wonder if it’s possible. Fergus clearly is an omnivore and he cooks & bakes - he grinds flour from fallen acorns & bakes bread from that. Again – not part of the plan for my fruitarian forage. But still I wonder.

Go take a walk through your village, dorp, suburb, city neighborhood. WALK. Don’t drive. Take your time & look – really LOOK – at gardens. You’ll have to peek over walls, through hedges & security fences of course - taking care not to frizzle yourself on electrified barriers. But even so. I’ve done this and you know, it might not be completely impossible to do a Fergus in a dorp or city. Just check out the back gardens & courtyards – you might be amazed at the number & variety of fruit & nut trees you see. Summer fruiters as well as winter fruiters – so you might be OK throughout a whole year. Of course you’d need to make friends with everyone to get around the security issue, & explain your experiment to get around the fears we’ve all learnt to live with.

And then you look at the street planting – see the hundreds of carob trees ? Well, there’s a whole load of free calories right there. And the thousands of palm trees – Oops, No – this is where my fantasy collapses utterly. They’re just ornamental – feeds neither man nor beast. Doesn’t even provide decent shade – certainly not to compare with a good-sized pecan nut tree, for example. I think it’s safe to say that our city planners are probably not fruitarians.

So here’s my suggestion for those of us who live in any kind of urban or peri-urban environment. How about planting as many fruit & nut trees as you can cram into your space – some can even do perfectly well in a good-sized pot on a patio. And then plant some of your fruit trees closer to your boundary or fence. And don’t over-prune the poor thing into a manicured poodle. Let the tree be a tree. Let it grow & blossom & fruit. You’ll enjoy it. The birds will love you for it. As will any fruitarian Fergus who happens to be foraging by.

Which reminds me of a lovely summer afternoon in Greyton – well in Greyton all summer afternoons are lovely anyway. But this one had something extra. It was grape season, and every so often, on our walk through the dorp, there’d be a handwritten sign on a piece of cardboard behind a small bowl or basket of perfectly luscious grapes: Please help yourself – they’re very good !

Fergus would have loved it.

Don't be a pain in the whatsit: Rule #4 of 5

UNLESS YOU’RE A MEDICAL DOCTOR OR A QUALIFIED HEALTH EXPERT, DON’T GIVE MEDICAL ADVICE.
You will be asked to. You might be tempted to. Don’t do it - you can get into real trouble if you do. People come to fruitarianism for a variety of reasons – some of them very serious. For the medically desperate it could represent a last-straw hope, and you should never promise miracle cures. That would be arrogant, cruel and dangerous. Healing – deep body-and-soul healing – is holy ground. And fruitarianism, like all in-depth transformations of the self, is about healing and the evolution of our consciousness. These are deep waters, and if we're new to it, we're probably not ready to be the best guides & teachers for others.

So what can you do ? Make information available, share your experience, be supportive. And if you feel called upon to do so, report for soul duty. This however is work for the seasoned traveller. It requires what Caroline Myss calls, soul stamina.

Now, Caroline Myss. I cannot recommend her work too highly. Like many many thousands of people I have found her teachings about healing, consciousness & the journey of the soul to be a profound blessing on my path. She is eloquent, funny, wise & incisive. Many years ago a dear friend first introduced me to Caroline's Anatomy of the Spirit, and I honestly regard that as the beginning of the richest phase of my spiritual growth & my expansion as a human being. Caroline's latest book, Entering the Castle, is evidence of her own evolution over the years. If you're serious about your own soul work, about living a life of meaning & depth, this is the book you want to work with.

Are you wondering just what this might have to do with your fruitarianism ? Everything - as you will know if you're familiar with Caroline's work. And if you have yet to discover it: Well, you know the old saying: When the student is ready, the teacher appears ? Perhaps you're about to discover something which will challenge & enrich every part of your life - including your fruitarianism.

What am I eating ?????

Here's something which gave me a slight fright: a report about cleaning fruit & veg. Apparently it doesn't help to wash it - eColi & some other things you don't want to ingest get into the leaves (spinach for example) & fruit... So: big project to test efficacy of chemical baths & irradiation. Irradiation works best - provided it's strong enough to kill the stuff, and even then it's not 100%.

Now I wonder what the irradiation does to the life in the fruit I'm eating ? I don't care that my worry is not scientific - I'd much rather they try to figure out how to prevent the eColi's etc from getting into the food in the first place.

I'm sure we've all seen the fresh produce fields bordering some of our most congested highways. Which is why I like to see WHERE MY FOOD COMES FROM. When I make vegetable juice for The Man, I'd rather the ingredients didn't originate right next to the N1. When I eat grapes, I'd prefer it if they didn't come from the area where the irrigation water was so polluted that the EU cancelled import deals with those farmers.

Let me just make this clear: I absolutely do not blame those farmers - they're caught between a rock and a very hard place. They're partly dependent on water from a river - polluted before it gets to them. They do what they can with purification, but it brings me back to my first point - get rid of the problem at source. And I'm afraid this gets us into even more polluted waters: politics.

So I'll leave that there. Point is - I want to know Point of Origin. And that's not always easy. Especially when your punnet of fruit comes from that mysterious farm called Specially-grown/packed-for...

There's always been a particular pleasure in knowing, for example, that your avo's came from Louis Triegaardt (as it used to be called), especially if the box also told you the name of the farm. One gets to know & trust some of these points of origin. But nowadays it's not just out of interest - I wonder how often it is a health risk for us not to know where our fruit grew & how it got to us.

Bottom-line: we're going to have to get to a point where we can grow more of our own. If you eat off your own tree, you know what you're getting.

Don't be a pain in the whatsit: Rule #3 of 5

Southern Kalahari - early morning, as we were leaving to tackle the long trek to the softer south. Yes - it's the famous hoodia. The diet industry's holy grail - suppresses appetite - makes you lose weight. And you will never need it, because as a fruitarian you don't have weight issues anymore...

OK - Rule #3: DON'T JUDGE
The surest way to sabotage your own journey is to start judging someone else’s. None of us has even the remotest clue about the soul-stuff being worked out in another life. We barely glimpse the truth about our own.

So, when thinking about, shall we say, those people who pin all their hopes on the humble hoodia (the 60%+ obese Americans for example), let go of that superior smirk. Try for a bit of humility & compassion. This may be more difficult than you'd care to admit. So go practise on yourself. And you might just be surprised to find that this is hardest of all. Do it anyway.

Go stand in front of the mirror – look at yourself in the full awareness of the courage it’s taken to assume the grown-up charge of your own health. Claim that. Now look at yourself in the full awareness of your vulnerability & fragility, and (might as well admit it) stupidity. Claim that too. Now cultivate compassion for yourself. For the brave, flawed, fearful, precious, real person you know yourself to be. From now on you don’t do Blame anymore, or Pity, or Victim-consciousness. You don’t do Denial anymore, or Fantasy. You don’t Judge. You are deserving of your own compassion – so is everyone else.

As a footnote to yesterday: in the shop today - fresh organic dates. Refrigerated & overpackaged - but still, a muted little echo from my childhood.

Deserts & dates

Remember that panicked late-night drive down the Nossob ? (The Man) Here, in the shade of a shaggy old camelthorn tree: one of the things that made us late.

I know, it was going to be Rule #3 - but I'm just not in the mood. I've been re-reading Freya Stark's travel writings - you know 1920s-30s, traipsing all over the Middle-East & dining with the Bedouin. We'll pass over the sheep's bits & the camel's unmentionables - but she writes about desert dates, and the figs & pomegranates in the suqs. Just imagine.

So, what with the Kalahari springbok & Dame Freya's dates... well, my mind is full of sun & faraway places.

Kyloe's two young date palms are nowhere near ready to bear - but they're getting there. Such a business as it was to get them too, years ago. Ornamental palms, of course - no problem. But the real dactylifera - well, I hope that's what we've got...

Is there someone else who remembers those beautiful little wooden boxes that used to arrive, once a year, from somewhere in the northern Cape ? Fresh sticky syrupy dates. A treasure from a desert place. Like Dame Freya's desert fruits. A fond & rather melancholy memory.

Seems I have unfinished business with the deserts... Hence, I suppose, the Kalahari-Augrabies thing - no matter how tough the training. And that is how I discovered the cruelest words in the English language: "Repeat whole sequence 3 times."