Posts Tagged ‘Crisis of Faith’

Yes, We Have a Cash Crop! And Other Blessings in Disguise…

I suppose it was bound to happen. I’ve seen this trend with so many clients, friends and family members; I don’t know why I thought that I’d remain immune. Yesterday morning, I even had a dream that “things are not what they appear,” and not to get caught up in former expectations. At the same time I received that dream message, my sister got a cosmic download for me, too — in the shower of all places! I awoke to her texts:

“Got a pretty strong message for you this am in the shower …. they want you to remain open. God and the angels are with you and helping you and everything WILL be not only fine but wonderful. …But it may not come the way you think. …try to really practice mindful detachment. … Just neutrally observe what comes up and let it go … God and the angels totally have you covered, just be open to letting it happen. and right now it feels like they know some key info that you/we don’t yet. Just keep positive with your intention but let them work out the details of how to get there. …”

We both assumed those messages related to a particularly annoying 3D challenge I’ve been plugging away at for a long time but with which I am finally experiencing rapid, longed for changes. Today, I realized the messages we both received were also about …

Our Yard.

Oh, yes, I have big plans for this yard. It’s going to be an amazing little eco-faery-permaculture-medicinal herb-food garden-wild edibles-bird, bee and butterfly sanctuary nestled in a very unlikely spot. Yes, indeed, and I have been harvesting wild violet salads and dandelion greens for “beanie greenies” and dandelion smoothies like a good little wild forager eco-chick. I’ve even got “new” grubbies from a synchronous sale at Goodwill, so I can be the true Faery Farmer without messing up my “real” clothes:

Dandelion Faery

Yep, that’s me, sporting the very classy/totally dorked out duds on my way out of the mudroom this morning to haul yet more wood mulch around my precious raised beds to keep them pristine and separate from the rest of the wild, wild yard. I’m tired. I have been hauling mulch for weeks, and while the yard looks like it has a plan, and we have four raised beds in various stages of assembly and soil filling, it still looks like a giant meadow out there. Despite the fact that David just mowed the lawn two days ago!

I assessed my progress and realized I needed another three feet of mulch around the front of the raised bed area, so out came the landscape cloth, yard cart, pitchfork (yep, I’ve become hardcore with this wood mulch. No more 5 gallon buckets … we’re talking wheels, here!), and more cardboard. Out came the wind, too, blowing my freshly cut strips of landscape cloth all over the dandelion filled yard. By the time I caught the long panels, they were covered in fine dandelion seeds. Someone, somewhere giggled, but it wasn’t me. Yet. I weighted down the other landscape cloth strips while dumping mulch on the first one. Load after heavy load. Man, my back began to hurt. I looked over at the fluttering landscape cloth only to see even more dandelion seeds blowing into and sticking on the cloth.

I decided to distract myself from this Sisyphean labor by stirring the compost pile. When I looked inside, I realized that the mulched grass clippings David had kindly added to the pile on Thursday were a) not dried and b) filled with little white dandelion seeds. Everywhere I looked this morning, I saw dandelion seeds or dandelion flowers. Thousands and thousands of yellow and white heads blowing in the breeze, scattering themselves on every bare spot, sticking to my hair, making me sneeze, popping up in mulch.

Normally, I love dandelions, and I’ve been known to pay $5.99 a bunch for fresh dandelion greens in the dead of winter, because I’m just that odd. I drink dandelion root tea, and I’ve used dandelion root tinctures to support my liver. In fact, dandelion greens and dandelion tea are two of my favorite things in the entire world of natural food store shopping.

But this morning … arrgh … this morning, I was not enjoying the dandelions. I had just somewhat successfully waged the Garlic Mustard War — a week-long series of battles against garlic mustard, a highly invasive, though also edible weed. After collecting a trash can full last week and lugging that heavy can to the curb, I saw vendors at the Farmer’s Market selling bags of garlic mustard for $4 each. I used to love the stuff myself — it makes a great pesto — but David and I OD’d on it in Madison and haven’t re-acquired the taste yet. In any case, I uprooted and tossed the garlic mustard, because I’ve seen entire forests covered in those biennials, and only uprooting it prevents a monolithic spread once it appears.

The battles of the Garlic Mustard War occur less frequently now and on a smaller scale; however, I really didn’t want to engage in war on another front. Michael Pollan says, “A lawn is Nature under totalitarian rule,” and I spend plenty of time railing against dictatorships and gratuitous wars. The idea of waging war against my beloved dandelions didn’t sit well with me this morning. I started feeling like, well, the government … and that made me want to banish myself in the trash along with the other half can of stinky garlic mustard. I began to gather up the flapping landscape cloth and felt my heart sink as I realized my days as a Faery Farmer had only just begun and already I wanted to retire.

Then something suddenly clicked.

I had been wracking my brain all Fall and Winter for a so-called “cash crop,” but I couldn’t commit to anything that seemed too time intensive or required know-how to grow. Hmmm … I actually buy dandelions and dandelion products — sometimes at quite high retail prices — because I appreciate their flavor, nutritional profile, and medicinal value. In the midst of my aching back and increasing sense of defeat by Nature, I remembered that I had agreed to take on this permaculture project (our yard) because it involved working with Nature. If I had planted a crop with this kind of yield, I would have been thrilled. I looked around and reminded myself that in permaculture (and life) “the problem is the solution.” “Ask and you shall receive.” “Nature’s first law is abundance.” I’d wanted a fool proof, high yield cash crop, and I stood surrounded by massive volumes of a plant whose every single part offers valuable food and medicine.

Perspective.

Funny. Yesterday, after my sister and I both received our little downloads that things would be “better than fine,” so long as I didn’t get hung up on my expectations of the how, a youtube video suddenly jumped out at me. This guy shares how he made $900 with his dandelions. “Pay attention, Laura…we don’t give you and your sister a simultaneous double-whammy message to remain open-minded and then just drop the ball. Seriously, girl … we use it all. ‘Can you hear me now?'”

As I shifted my attitude this morning, I began to collect the pretty yellow flowers.

Lots and lots of flowers:

Dandelion HarvestDandelion Harvest 2

I looked up recipes for Dandelion Wine and Dandelion Jelly and decided to freeze my stash while determining if I want to use the traditional sugar or some other healthier sweetener(s). Do I want to “wild ferment” ala Sandor Katz, or use some other method? Will I use the Perfect Pickler? Do I need to gather pretty little jelly jars? Decisions, decisions.

Meanwhile, this huge collection of flowers didn’t even make a noticeable dent in the field. I could go out tomorrow and the next day and collect the same amount and still not see any visible reduction. Talk about abundance!

My mind began turning around other recipe possibilities like dandelion chips (as opposed to kale chips), superfood bars with dandelion greens as a base, and the possibility of bagging up the greens for someone to sell for me at the Farmer’s Market. At this point, I don’t know exactly how I will monetize this harvest, but I’ve reached a point of equilibrium and gratitude, realizing that Nature gives back to those who love her.

I decided to share my experience, because it mirrors that of so many people walking by Faith right now. People who’ve felt strongly guided in unusual directions who feel good about their choices but suddenly face a seemingly impossible block. That block usually comes out of nowhere and offers such overwhelming challenges that it temporarily rocks their Faith. (That’s when I usually hear from them: “Did I just totally misinterpret all those signs?!?” “Is the Universe messing with me?!” “Did God just open all those doors so he could slam this one in my face and laugh?!”)

As James Gilliland recently wrote, we’re experiencing a 5D overlay on the old reality. Many of us are already living most of our lives in the new reality, but when we pop back into the not-quite-ended old paradigm, the contrast feels like a smack upside the head. Those of us preparing bridges between the old and new realities will occasionally become overwhelmed by the vast contrast between the beauty, healing and instant manifestation of the new world … and the boots-on-the-ground, bone-crushing fatigue, pushed-beyond-all-limits work preparing the old world for its grand Transmutation.

Most people in this situation, regardless of chosen field, find themselves needing to engage Nature or some kind of Nature-benefiting practice in order to embrace and eventually transcend the challenge. Guess what? Healing our planet is priority number one, so that twist makes perfect sense, however surprising it initially appears. If you find yourself beaten down by “time” or by physical “limitations,” then I suggest you take a breath, step back, and remember the bigger picture. Refocus on where you know you’re headed; recognize how wonderful you and your world are in process of becoming; then remind yourself, “The problem is the solution.”

We’re all being rewired right now. This shift involves as much of a perspective shift as a physical one, because perspective plays such a key role in how we manifest. Mother Earth knows what she’s doing. We need to stick with her and try to trust her. In the process of regaining our intimacy with Nature, we will experience the true joy and freedom that come from remembering how to trust ourselves.