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.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
my gift to you
I am lost.
Lost in a way that there is nothing around the river bend,
the pool here is deep with crystal.
Lost in a way that the size of the moon tells me how many days have passed.
Lost in a way that every gulp of water feels like a perfect moment.
I am lost in a way that nothing I need is out of reach.
I am lost in a way that I am far far from those who are always near,
and I am far far away from feeling they are lost.
I am lost in a way that holidays go unnoticed.
I am lost in a way that a birthday can't be more special than all the other days filled with spectacular beauty.
Lost in a way that I feel fulfilled by memory alone.
I am lost in a way that I joyously know exactly where I am.
 |
| In memory of celebrations with Papa Ralph, a lovely companion on the farm made a carnival for the occasion! |
Thursday, May 24, 2012
****
On these clear nights I look up and feel
I am in a globe
A star globe, with some transparent force
In which it is all contained
Not determining where each piece will fall
But holding sure it will all settle
And be shaken up once again
****
I am in a globe
A star globe, with some transparent force
In which it is all contained
Not determining where each piece will fall
But holding sure it will all settle
And be shaken up once again
****
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Dogma
Turkey is a bridge. It is the land that keeps the Black Sea from weeping into the Agean and is the only country that claims to have a European side and an Asian side. Connecting the Western world to the Middle East and Asia, Turkey is a highway for spirits contained in bodies journeying outward and inward. The land that I reside in is a hub for the soul seeking traveler.
As I play my hand in sustainable living on this Eco-Olive-Micro-Village, I am dealt volunteers from a well shuffled deck. Jacks from Spain, Queens from Australia, Kings from Palestine, pairs of Hearts from countless suites, and a few Aces in the hole from Turkey. The shy traveler uses this place as an Eastern point after which they return back into Europe. The bold venture by land through Iran and Pakistan into India and beyond. So many faces and so many stories come through this junction that it is getting harder to find deep and meaningful connections with the temporary members of the community. Only those who share themselves fabulously find a place in my admiration, however everyone that contributes somehow sinks and settles into the bottom of my memory.
The diverse group of people arches together like a rainbow. Five, plus, languages brushing the air with cultural color. Kitchen clashing cuisines coming together like kin. No tradition compromised, the more exotic the more readily accepted.
The plethora of people makes this community more than unique in Turkey, a country made uniform by the steeples and domes of Mosques marking the cities like polka-dots on pajamas. It is curious to see that the multi-dimensional ethnicity of the volunteers are not match by affiliations with multiple religious groups. The majority of the individuals in Turkey are Muslim but it is rare to have a person joining the farm who identifies with any religion at all. It is safe to say that here a strong belief in nature, sustainability, and the environment unifies our thoughts, but no one is bowing their head in prayer for low carbon emissions.
Our world has as many differences as the universe has moons and little can be seen as universal. Some things like the sound of music and the logic of math can be understood across cultures. Other things, of course, can not be agreed upon from group to group. The truth that God has a different definition depending on who you are talking to has been curious to me. A force that is intended to be so unifying, in reality is creating so many divides. In some recent experiences with Islam and Christianity I realize that I can look at these two opposing belief systems as unified. In Islam a series of repeated body movements is incorporated in every prayer; to me this enhances a connection to the body an induces a meditative state. Further more, I realize when Christians pray they are most often focused on the inner working of their emotions and relationships; if nothing else this is enhancing self-awareness and creating an inlet for them to explore the cycle of their thoughts. For me, practicing the body rhythms of Islam and the self-discovery of Christianity together can create a rich harmony of mind, body, and eventually soul. For the first time since I rejected the Catholic church almost five years ago, I can comfortably say that I believe in God and I do pray. My prayer is the constant effort to watch my throbbing thoughts, to balance my pulsing emotions, and to feel The spirit's tone reverberating under my skin. The God I speak of is quite likely no God at all. The formless energy undetectable by the mind and unreasonable to rationality is the connecting entity that is...
As I play my hand in sustainable living on this Eco-Olive-Micro-Village, I am dealt volunteers from a well shuffled deck. Jacks from Spain, Queens from Australia, Kings from Palestine, pairs of Hearts from countless suites, and a few Aces in the hole from Turkey. The shy traveler uses this place as an Eastern point after which they return back into Europe. The bold venture by land through Iran and Pakistan into India and beyond. So many faces and so many stories come through this junction that it is getting harder to find deep and meaningful connections with the temporary members of the community. Only those who share themselves fabulously find a place in my admiration, however everyone that contributes somehow sinks and settles into the bottom of my memory.
The diverse group of people arches together like a rainbow. Five, plus, languages brushing the air with cultural color. Kitchen clashing cuisines coming together like kin. No tradition compromised, the more exotic the more readily accepted.
The plethora of people makes this community more than unique in Turkey, a country made uniform by the steeples and domes of Mosques marking the cities like polka-dots on pajamas. It is curious to see that the multi-dimensional ethnicity of the volunteers are not match by affiliations with multiple religious groups. The majority of the individuals in Turkey are Muslim but it is rare to have a person joining the farm who identifies with any religion at all. It is safe to say that here a strong belief in nature, sustainability, and the environment unifies our thoughts, but no one is bowing their head in prayer for low carbon emissions.
Our world has as many differences as the universe has moons and little can be seen as universal. Some things like the sound of music and the logic of math can be understood across cultures. Other things, of course, can not be agreed upon from group to group. The truth that God has a different definition depending on who you are talking to has been curious to me. A force that is intended to be so unifying, in reality is creating so many divides. In some recent experiences with Islam and Christianity I realize that I can look at these two opposing belief systems as unified. In Islam a series of repeated body movements is incorporated in every prayer; to me this enhances a connection to the body an induces a meditative state. Further more, I realize when Christians pray they are most often focused on the inner working of their emotions and relationships; if nothing else this is enhancing self-awareness and creating an inlet for them to explore the cycle of their thoughts. For me, practicing the body rhythms of Islam and the self-discovery of Christianity together can create a rich harmony of mind, body, and eventually soul. For the first time since I rejected the Catholic church almost five years ago, I can comfortably say that I believe in God and I do pray. My prayer is the constant effort to watch my throbbing thoughts, to balance my pulsing emotions, and to feel The spirit's tone reverberating under my skin. The God I speak of is quite likely no God at all. The formless energy undetectable by the mind and unreasonable to rationality is the connecting entity that is...
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Turkçe
We all know when you reach a fork in the road it is wisest to travel down the road less taken. However, at times the road you trek down splits off into, not two, but bundles of possibilities. There are occasions that the path is frayed like the shoe-lase that lost its solid tip and has accumulated endless numbers of steps. In situations like theses Mr. Frost has no advise to give. Now as I walk the long walk I have come to this junction. It is here at Dedetepe, the olive farm, that the whole Eastern world lays in front of me. At first I was undecided where to go so I took a seat to ponder. Then I started toying with fantastic ideas, so I squatted to fantasize about my next move. In this position I stayed resting and dreaming, until all around me the grasses and flowers grew lush.
Sometimes no path should be taken because it is your resting place where you belong. I am nowhere that is not the perfect place for me to be. What a feeling it is to take my worn soles off and to let my feet breathe. Only in periods of true rest, deep to the soul, is where I find fruit blossoming all around. (It is not unheard of to experience this deep calm even in moments of chaos.) The sweet juices of my place in the olives are not all I receive. It turns out the pit I have stopped in is furnished with Turkish language lessons too.
For some time the inspiration to write has overlooked me, but now I am feeling a Turkish creativity. Can you discover the meaning of my poem; how many ways can you understand my Turkish pros?
For some time the inspiration to write has overlooked me, but now I am feeling a Turkish creativity. Can you discover the meaning of my poem; how many ways can you understand my Turkish pros?
Nehir kenarinda olturuyorum
Guzel suyu goruyorum
Kucuk balik oluyorum
Kucuk balik oluyorum
Gunes te isinuyorum
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Winter Wind
The name of the game is Eco-Living; the obstacle, Winter. She is harsh, but I do not blame her. This season never sees fresh green meadows polka-doted with flowers. Nor does she admire young life wobbling through an awakening forest. All it knows of these joys are from the falling whispers of Autumn who only hears the story of a first flight from the fading heat of summer. The challenges that this quarter carries do not need to be mentioned, but it is not surprising that her symptoms are called fridgied. However those who resist her don't feel her, they just judge her as cold. Through her and truly, winter brings a simplicity that gives an opportunity for the imagination to be the hero that slays the beast 'till spring.
...this night I spoke out-loud a stream of improvised pros...
...this night I spoke out-loud a stream of improvised pros...
The flickering light lets the wood crawl free over the walls. The air so cold even the candle glows blue. Relaxation courageously comes and the calm breath begins to synchronize with the slow bounce of illumination. And when smoke rises from the wick my eyes bat closed. Finally I see the lantern that will reveal our ways.
Compliments to the frost bitten vision of Ash
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)