The Sustainable Vagabond Tales. Chapter 2: Immersed

Aloha! The journey continues into the eighth week of my Maui experience. Initial excitement of the unknown sets the backdrop to the now focused pursuit of why I'm here; to learn about sustainability, becoming acquainted with the earth and how to tend it, manage land, propagate crops, and get deeper in understanding. I'm paying attention to more than what's in front of me while practicing unknowing in the sense of openness to new ideas. However, not ignoring what we've come to know as Maui Time and the perfect alignment of desirable opportunity. Over a month on the island, and it begins to dawn on me that I'm here for more than vacation, yet not quite permanent. I'm ephemeral, and in the untethered ether, I can hear myself think. The rapid boil adventure has calmed to a nice simmer of consciousness.

Transience is blissful.

For instance, I was at a beach park in Lahaina, just enjoying the breeze with a bowl and some pages of Ishmael, when a rather shabby looking individual laying on a blanket shouted a query about my hair. So we bantered momentarily. Quite frankly, I was trying to ignore him. He mentioned something about jewelry, and I inquired to what end. It's funny how we make snap judgments based on our own desires - I just wanted to read in the park, and this hobo wants to talk to me. But I decided to indulge and moved in for a closer look. For the next few hours he would reveal to me a series of very tall tales through which I was fully captivated as to whether or not he was a bum. $30k worth of raw black coral glimmered at me from the plaid blanket. A Learjet he said, "my friend's actually," was waiting for him at the airport. Sure buddy, and I'm Henry the VIII... Then he started talking about Black Ops missions, detailing eyewitness reports of explicitly underhanded government dealings, including some things I've heard before. He was succinct, intelligent, and fascinating. I handed him the j I'd just rolled, slack-jaw baffled by this anomaly. As he was laying all of this on me, some paramedics walking near, perhaps on a break, inquired with the comfort of friends, "Hey Philip, how's the ocean today?" My hobo friend and Chris the paramedic embraced, going into how rare it is to extract black coral (only 200 people in the world have this permit), the depths at which it can be obtained (250 feet), and the amount of pressure and type of equipment used for SCUBA and what his boat was capable of. Spread on the blanket were hundred year old antiques, wooden marbles, and a pirate's booty worth of black coral. He handed me two bits advising I not get it appraised. A UCLA cum laude graduate and government weapon, he simply said, "The system is fucked, I got out," then with a puff, "I wanted to be homeless, so I'm gunna sell the house my brother bought me. I have 15 acres of property up in Kula." Jeez guy, let me be the caretaker. I hope I see Philip again. No email or phone was exchanged (as I'm sure he wants it), and he mentioned something about going to Kuala Lampur to search for a missing friend. Who knows. I want some commissioned black coral plugs.

Those seemingly random occurrences propel me, and once again, reaffirm that things happen for a reason. My mind is tuning to certain frequencies, and I'm becoming aware of the shift. Who is this I that is becoming aware, anyway? Astrologically, I'm headed into the Saturn rising of my life. A period of harvest, transit and travels. For me, it's no more than curious interest, but it seems to have relevance. Aside from a crystal ball, I feel connected to a realization of my dharma, like I'm magnetized to experiences of soulful richness. You couldn't buy this. I can feel the dirt road of Love between my toes. The full, wet soil massages my feet as I journey, perhaps stopping to smell flowers or remark at the sunset... It's difficult to see the horizon due to the sheer solar magnitude, but I know its out there and I'm pretty sure I won't fall off the edge.

So I keep walking the path to sustainability, and sometimes I have company. The dream we shared is an ecstatic memory on an island. It was organic, to say the least, as paths of life weave individually, occasionally sharing the same thread of time and space. Short as it may have been, I felt fully connected to the moment. Now, each of our paths on the country road venture in their own directions, experiential participants in the transient island life of the untethered ether.




Perhaps the timing was perfect, as I'm further directed into focus and timing. I gotta do what I gotta do, focus Atom. In the last four weeks both Katies (the last set of interns on the farm) have continued on their respective paths, making me the senior-most wwoofer, subject to more responsibility and also privilege. Whether in a cubical or on a farm, I climb ladders. On Wednesdays, I take produce to the farmers market in Makawao. I have a space for folding tables, an umbrella, and the cornucopia of all the deliciousness we grow on the farm including squash, white sapote, limes, yacon, papaya, mustard greens, and home made raw dessert treats. I'm re-membering the dream. Getting involved and making myself known is exciting. My resume is shaping - not necessarily shifting, just growing.

As my character is growing on the farm. The last seven weeks I was sleeping in a tent under a tree, and while this was literally a perfect start to my from the ground up approach, the novelty of tented residence on wooden slats wore thin. So when the opportunity rose to sleep in a bed, I jumped in it. Now I sleep in a bed under the stairs, and I think I'll be staying here for the remainder of my time on Maui. Perhaps five months isn't enough, but that is another blog entry in itself.

We now have three new apprentices on the farm. Kendra, the granola girl from Berkeley, owns a gardening business, lives in someone's backyard, and is a resource in herself, enlightening me to bed setups and water management. She will certainly be a valued asset once I'm ready to setup AF. Jason and Shannon are a vegan Canadian couple and have cast off the shackles of conformity to travel the world for a year. After a week or so of getting-to-know-you, the four of us interact incredibly well. Especially with food. A well oiled machine would have a hard time keeping up. Each of us knows there is a job to be done whether prepping, gathering items in the garden, cleanup along the way, table settings, or cooking. We are like minded in communal energy given/taken, and just as easily, one of us could've been the asshole. Maybe I'm the asshole.

Twere a volcano weekend. As a new troupe of social chums, the four of us rented a Gran Marquis this weekend and drove up to the top of Haleakala. It was a boat. The kind my grandparents drive... and it was awesome. The wheeled ship was fitting. I at the helm, energized from delicious Kona coffee, navigating up waves and belled curves sailing around the volcano's base. The mist turned into rain and a moment later, we peaked above that cloud into clear watered twilight skies. Reggae music in lieu of the mariner's song set the soundtrack. It was numbingly cold, but incredibly magical. Waking up at 3am with the anticipation of watching sunrise from an island volcano felt like waiting for Christmas as a young child. The gift was the experience. Sadly, my battery died halfway through the timelapse. Lesson #1 in digital cameras: make sure the battery is charged. On the way down, we pinched some persimmons that were dangling dangerously close to the street, so we helped out the owners and trimmed their trees.

Nap time came and went and I decided to venture to roller derby with Bill and Marta. I like spending time with them; hearing Bill's off the wall life lessons that are so perfect, and making deliveries with Marta to restaurants and market. I feel blessed to have found such an excellent opportunity. I've also been keeping up with design, just finishing a logo for the Greenleafs.




I've begun to see life itself through edible and utilitarian glasses. What resources do I have to make this work? Problem solving with limited options will come in handy when the shitteth hitteth yonder fan. My knowledge of edible flora grows, but I feel like there is SO much more to know. Accepting gradual progress is something I've been working on appreciating. It rained in Paia for Halloween, which was an interesting element to the evening. Kinda added a pleasurable ambiance of spookiness - though I wasn't as pleased when I realized my shoes were caked inside and out with sand and mud and my $4 tights had run. oh beans...



My good friends Julie and Marisol are coming into Maui for a week! I'm really excited to hang out with them, go camping, imbibe some fungi no doubt, and party. It will be great to share the company of long time friends.

As Thanksgiving approaches I can't help but give thanks to life itself, but more on that to come...

Mahalo

The Sustainable Vagabond Tales. Maui, Chapter One

Aloha, and Mahalo for stopping by. This part of the story takes place over the course of three weeks, in which time I've landed on Maui, achieved some basis of bearing, and begun to soak in the marinade of the chapter; my first WWOOFing experience. Proceeding text may eschew continuity for the sake of adventure - but events are truer than my heart's path to truth, that is to say, redundantly true. Maui has captured my heart, invigorated my mind, set fire to my passions, and allowed me the disconnect from distraction I'd needed as the path to truth unfolds. Each day is a completely new adventure, and there is never a dull moment as I carve my beliefs and character. Moments are decisions.

To begin with, I packed too much. I always do that out of a personality trait to be prepared for all situations (Sun Tzu has noted "when without resources, depend on resourcefulness....") I even brought a hand ax to Maui... I need to get better with that. Packing light is essential to the the vagabond - which I have taken to quite well, I must say. Kerouac would be proud; though my true Gemini showing itself; one part being here now, the other asking if we're there yet and if we'll need a hand ax when we get there.

It was a Tuesday when I arrived. I wasn't tired really, nor had the in-flight Jack altered my perception beyond removing the edge of throttled tin can claustrophobia. I was ready, poised and salivating. Put me in the game coach, I need to get my hands on the ball. Marta Greenleaf was at the curb shortly after I got my gear; a rucksack, my Chrome rolltop daybag, my bike in box, and a duffle. In retrospect, too much "stuff," not enough clothes. More on that later, as I digress... Conversational casualties ensued as we drove to Whole Foods for a delivery and some supplies. As we approached the 2 acre family farm (up a very well-to-do "Neighborhood Watch" street), Marta pointed out my new living quarters from the road. It felt somehow comfortable in the sense of a long lost memory returned. The other wwoofers, both named Katie, were done with chores and off the farm, so I spent the rest of the day setting myself up. I'm sorry to report I haven't been able to hang my hammock. Sadly, there is just no viable place for it on the farm... plus, how am I supposed to bring a lady back to the hammock? So I broke down and bought a $30 tent from WalMart.

I'd be sleeping in the fabric fortress, under a kukui nut tree, on a farm overlooking lavender fields. The ocean and sunset would set the background.



That night, we had a group dinner. The two Katies, a visiting friend Gary, Marta, and myself. Bill Greenleaf was on the mainland. We all worked so harmoniously together with ingredients plucked from the backyard. It felt close and intimate, though I'd only just arrived, and we all shared prep, cook, and eventual cleaning duties. A patio setting and the brilliant stars above flavored the meal with imagination. As smoke passed around and we'd all sated our organic tastes, I couldn't think of anything more than, "Wow, this is incredible. I must be dreaming."

Oddly enough I have dreamed less since I've been here, or so I thought initially. I'd always kind of felt gypped that my dreams weren't so surreal, memorable, or lucid. Friends have told me tales of infinity, returning to dream worlds, and interaction within their dreams, but mine were typically bland-ish. Until now. My waking life is so vivid, synced, and interactive that it seems like I'm in a lucid waking dream currently. With humbleness, I'm living a dream, but it didn't come from thin air. Be true, be positive, follow your heart, and good things will happen.Who's to say what is real and what is a dream, anyway? I can't help but to follow signs of opportunity and my path to Love. I'm tapped in, take my hand and we can share The connection.

Farm duties are from 8am until noon, M-F, except for Thursday when Marta and I practice yoga, then we'll start at 9am. Daily chores include taking care of the chickens (feeding, watering, and gathering eggs - my chore specifically), pruning trees, weeding, shoveling manure, composting, laying irrigation, and occasionally in the evening laying seedlings, as the coolness helps a good start. There are somewhere around 50 varieties of fruit, vegetable, bean/grain, and herb combined. We have an outdoor shower where, I've discovered, a rainbow visits me each journey I take, sometimes double! I haven't showered indoors since I've been here. Creative mosaic stones pave the way to cleanliness, and a steam room adjacent. I'm probably cleaner here than I was back home, (despite the dirt, horseshit, and compost) and have taken to wearing nothing but a salt rub for deodorant. Body pheromones are so real, I love it and so should you. Down with western ideals of cleanliness! Its a facade to sell you chemicals and proliferate social control. You have the power to free your mind.

Where was I? Ah yes, farm duties.



Each Friday is Harvest Day, so we search for, pick, and prepare all the goodies for CSA boxes. That's a chill day, and for the most part, in the shade. I have acquired an authentic "farmer's tan," but by the process of naked sunbathing, I'm working on evening it out.

Beyond my obligations of 20 hours work/trade on the farm, I have a plethora of time to do as I please, and while I've only been here 3 weeks, I have seen quite a bit of the island. Each city on Maui has its own vibe and culture. Paia Town is my local hippie beach town (fitting, I know) with new age boutiques, restaurants and cafes, 70s California transplants and their groms, brahs in trucks, a yoga studio, the homeless beach kats, a surf and bike shop, and a very cool bead shop. An interesting social stratus that I feel annica, or transient, through. Some days I'll don Thoreauian qualities, sitting within the sand, pensive and solitary, staring out unto the vast oceanic horizon, perhaps reading a book or writing with a little snack bindle. One weekend, I rented a white Econo van and drove around sleeping where I adventured. Iao Valley, Kihei, Lahaina, wherever... This weekend I rented an AWD Subaru Impreza and drove northwest, cutting through canyons, searching for the perfect picnic spot. No, not this bluff, a little further. Ya, sunset will be perfect here. I pulled the e-brake with a cool grin, and drifted around a pebbly unpaved cliff road with a new friend, Kaitra. Then the next day back to hitch hiking, chillin on the beach with the tanned and dready kats, to chief the pakololo, seek out the next hidden waterfall, and ride the wind. Last night I ordered a latte after Woody Harrelson, then minutes later at a local pub, unknowingly asked Owen Wilson what movie he'd just seen as I sipped my Maui brewed Bikini Blond and he a fine glass of red wine... classy. So the social stratus has an interesting flow to it. I feel cleaner and more polished than the beach bums, but I'm not quite one of the normal societal types. And I like it. Even amongst the wwoofing community, I feel bohemian. I'm carving Atom.

The weekend prior, three wwoofers and I took a weekend trip out to Hana and O'heo Gorge. Katie, who just left Greenleaf Farm to go onward in travels; Jeremy, a 22 year old who reminds me incredibly of Mr. Dana; and Tristan, an inquisitive Berkeley vagabond type. The views were spectacular, the banana bread was fresh, and the experience was incredible. I have now been around the entire island. We explored caverns via an underwater passage, climbed rock lava, and had lunch on the black sand beach.




more pics on Picasa

How different my Monday through Friday routine is now... yet still a routine. For now, I'm happy learning the basics, and being in the zen of the moment on this small farm, but there will come a time when I'll branch to other opportunities. Portland, Seattle, Santa Fe/Taos, Austin, Mississippi, India, Austrailia, New Zealand, and Northern California are all completely possible, yet when the time comes to pull the trigger, I'll know which gun to aim. Until then, I'm riding the wind with Mercurian strength.

And the story continues. Each day brings new opportunities and experiences. Who knows where or when I'll land. Fears wash away as I gaze into infinity.