Saturday, September 15, 2012
Monday, September 3, 2012
Dede
Being busy can sometimes feel like you are living life in fast forward. City streets can pass you by as if they are a film strip while you walk through a routine filled week, month, or year. I have gone through cinematic periods of my life like this when I have woken up fuzzy headed after a new year celebration wondering why last January first seems like yesterday. It might be that most of us earth dwellers are locked in this fast forward position, but I have managed to flip the switch. Now in slow motion, I have been in Turkey for more than double the time that I was in France, Italy, The Netherlands, Germany, Austria, Slovakia, The Czech Republic and Greece combined. For the past ten months I have been geographically closer to where human civilization started than I ever was before, and I have been living a life that is more aligned with the way the first humans lived than I ever did before.
An organic olive farm was my place of comfort the majority of the past ten months. The land is dubbed Dedetepe, translated to Grandfather Hill, after the buried Sufi chief who is buried atop the orchard. Dedetepe Farm displays a vibrant harmony with nature and its resources. Me and all the others of the farm valued greatly the river, running from mountain springs. Not only did this become water for cooking, and washing, but it turned a turbine to produce power, sometimes, too. The olive trees of course appreciate the fresh drink as they swallow it to make plump their crop. Now don't be confused, I was living a simple life, but a complex system of renewable energy technologies allowed me to live this life with ease. A solar panel soaked up rays most efficiently by following the arch of the sun's path, continuously pivoting to face it all day. A different set of solar collectors accumulated the heat to provide us with warm water for doing dishes and washing other necessary areas. Finally, the big mama wind mill swirled its blades with furious speed. The hum of its rotations inspired the fantasy that the farm would, at any moment, begin to hover off the land and soar over the Aegean Sea.
Keep in mind though, that the sun was not always shinning and the wind did not always blow. It was at these times I appreciated the dancing imagines of the nighttime farm illuminated by only candle light. I tried not to resist these even more simplified days but the city still in me, just a bit.
Dedetepe is a dream developed into a working reality. It is a beautiful eco-camp decorated with the foot print of volunteers from around the world. Over time all of the farm's founders and visitors have put their unique expression into the flow of the breathing growing work of art. As for me, I know this place made more of an impact on me than I did on it. I am humbled by ALL Dedetepe has brought to me, however I did feel more like one of the trees growing on the land than just a volunteer passing by with the wind. Although my roots were only in the shallow soil, while I was there I found the sunniest spots and worked to give my sweetest fruit.
Everyone that steps foot on the farm plays a role in the movement of the farm's existence and I am proud to say that my role came along with some differentiated responsibilities. The most crucial things I was doing at the farm were managing water supplies, organizing volunteers and their projects, and facilitating communication between the layers of the farm. Each of these perpetual tasks deserves a descriptive story of its own, but this piece is about my reaction to the work and not the work its self.
My expectation when I took on these ecological-sustainable responsibilities was that the lush nature of the position would diffuse any stress that might come along with it. I conjured up the idea that people in modern mayhem are often overwhelmed by the bulldozing of social construction, flattening the lives they live and tasks they do. However, idealism is often defeated by reality, and I found some burden with my free-range roll.
At times the water was scarce. The volunteers grew in numbers. Coordination became less simple and pressure did build in my open spaces. It quickly became clear to me that it must not be the un-green doings of concrete life bring the stress, but of course it was me creating the sour air. Who else would know the details to focus on that ticked me off? I knew, I focused and I ticked.
Fortunately this ticking was not a time bomb. With a different style of self-management the tension I felt when simplicity left was lifted and I almost forgot what was bringing me negativity. It became clear that my mind was working inefficiently (sacrilegious to an eco-farm) by thinking up problems that did not actually exists and dwelling on future responsibilities that were not yet necessary to confront. To combat this I started playing a meditative game as I went about my day: Watching my breath fill my chest, feeling the breeze one leg gives to another as I walked, relaxing my shoulders letting them skip with the rhythm of my step.
Traveling, for me, has become about finding a personal equilibrium throughout it all. Most probably, life is about finding that equalized space too. Naturally, seasons changed and so did the situation of the farm. As new challenges rose I adapted my techniques for working through the situations. My time was full of lessons learned and experienced gained. I now carry tools on my belt to facilitate communication and navigate individuals needs within a group. I have also walked a thin line, balancing the act of reaching project goals, being sensitive to the well being of those working on the project, and most importantly caring for me. In the future I will turn to the days of Dedetepe Farm to find valuable advice. I really worked to give all that I could during my ten months on the farm. I think that no one was surprised that when the August heat dried up the river bed, all my giving energy had evaporated too.
Over the months people passing through often asked me why I had stayed as long as I had. I always gave them a fluid answer, telling them that I was responding to a feeling that said it is not time to go, and that I knew I was learning. I knew when I spoke this that it was incomplete, but I could not yet work out what was keeping me around. It was not until the absolute last moment of goodbyes that I felt why I was attached to the farm. In that moment before my feet left Dedetepe's earth I felt a great emotional connection to the few people who had been as constant on the farm as the natural elements. I gave all that I did for the growth of a bond. A bond that developed within the passion to protect, participate in, and preserve the beauties of an universally harmonious life-style.
An organic olive farm was my place of comfort the majority of the past ten months. The land is dubbed Dedetepe, translated to Grandfather Hill, after the buried Sufi chief who is buried atop the orchard. Dedetepe Farm displays a vibrant harmony with nature and its resources. Me and all the others of the farm valued greatly the river, running from mountain springs. Not only did this become water for cooking, and washing, but it turned a turbine to produce power, sometimes, too. The olive trees of course appreciate the fresh drink as they swallow it to make plump their crop. Now don't be confused, I was living a simple life, but a complex system of renewable energy technologies allowed me to live this life with ease. A solar panel soaked up rays most efficiently by following the arch of the sun's path, continuously pivoting to face it all day. A different set of solar collectors accumulated the heat to provide us with warm water for doing dishes and washing other necessary areas. Finally, the big mama wind mill swirled its blades with furious speed. The hum of its rotations inspired the fantasy that the farm would, at any moment, begin to hover off the land and soar over the Aegean Sea.
Keep in mind though, that the sun was not always shinning and the wind did not always blow. It was at these times I appreciated the dancing imagines of the nighttime farm illuminated by only candle light. I tried not to resist these even more simplified days but the city still in me, just a bit.
Dedetepe is a dream developed into a working reality. It is a beautiful eco-camp decorated with the foot print of volunteers from around the world. Over time all of the farm's founders and visitors have put their unique expression into the flow of the breathing growing work of art. As for me, I know this place made more of an impact on me than I did on it. I am humbled by ALL Dedetepe has brought to me, however I did feel more like one of the trees growing on the land than just a volunteer passing by with the wind. Although my roots were only in the shallow soil, while I was there I found the sunniest spots and worked to give my sweetest fruit.
Everyone that steps foot on the farm plays a role in the movement of the farm's existence and I am proud to say that my role came along with some differentiated responsibilities. The most crucial things I was doing at the farm were managing water supplies, organizing volunteers and their projects, and facilitating communication between the layers of the farm. Each of these perpetual tasks deserves a descriptive story of its own, but this piece is about my reaction to the work and not the work its self.
My expectation when I took on these ecological-sustainable responsibilities was that the lush nature of the position would diffuse any stress that might come along with it. I conjured up the idea that people in modern mayhem are often overwhelmed by the bulldozing of social construction, flattening the lives they live and tasks they do. However, idealism is often defeated by reality, and I found some burden with my free-range roll.
At times the water was scarce. The volunteers grew in numbers. Coordination became less simple and pressure did build in my open spaces. It quickly became clear to me that it must not be the un-green doings of concrete life bring the stress, but of course it was me creating the sour air. Who else would know the details to focus on that ticked me off? I knew, I focused and I ticked.
Fortunately this ticking was not a time bomb. With a different style of self-management the tension I felt when simplicity left was lifted and I almost forgot what was bringing me negativity. It became clear that my mind was working inefficiently (sacrilegious to an eco-farm) by thinking up problems that did not actually exists and dwelling on future responsibilities that were not yet necessary to confront. To combat this I started playing a meditative game as I went about my day: Watching my breath fill my chest, feeling the breeze one leg gives to another as I walked, relaxing my shoulders letting them skip with the rhythm of my step.
Traveling, for me, has become about finding a personal equilibrium throughout it all. Most probably, life is about finding that equalized space too. Naturally, seasons changed and so did the situation of the farm. As new challenges rose I adapted my techniques for working through the situations. My time was full of lessons learned and experienced gained. I now carry tools on my belt to facilitate communication and navigate individuals needs within a group. I have also walked a thin line, balancing the act of reaching project goals, being sensitive to the well being of those working on the project, and most importantly caring for me. In the future I will turn to the days of Dedetepe Farm to find valuable advice. I really worked to give all that I could during my ten months on the farm. I think that no one was surprised that when the August heat dried up the river bed, all my giving energy had evaporated too.
Over the months people passing through often asked me why I had stayed as long as I had. I always gave them a fluid answer, telling them that I was responding to a feeling that said it is not time to go, and that I knew I was learning. I knew when I spoke this that it was incomplete, but I could not yet work out what was keeping me around. It was not until the absolute last moment of goodbyes that I felt why I was attached to the farm. In that moment before my feet left Dedetepe's earth I felt a great emotional connection to the few people who had been as constant on the farm as the natural elements. I gave all that I did for the growth of a bond. A bond that developed within the passion to protect, participate in, and preserve the beauties of an universally harmonious life-style.
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