Last month I had a dream that my mom and sister visited me on mother’s day. I awoke to confirm that it was in fact mother’s day, and I called her to learn that she was visiting my sister. This month, I had a dream that a water protector stopped by, on a mission to escort me to a birthday party that my mom was throwing for me, two months after my birthday. And when I called her the next morning, they had in fact been celebrating my birthday along with my cousin’s, just the day before.
My growing connection is interweaving my consciousness through the roots of my ancestry, and the incredible bond of unconditional love that my mother and I share, is sprouting new pathways of long-distance communication. The more disconnected I become from society, the more connected I become to reality. I will soon journey into colonization with the intent on reuniting with family, but my work here is not done yet, and as I continue to plant the seeds of tomorrow, I pray that I will retain the ability to experience today. Aho, mitakuye oiyasin.
*******
We gave up Wheat for a couple of weeks. No major commitment, just a thing we tried as we were beginning to feel the dumbing down of our daily bread. No moral dilemma in its production, no more so than any other caged field of monocrop, this was simply an experiment into the feasibility of forgetting sandwiches. But I love sandwiches, with cheese, and don’t even get me started on the anti-semantics of “what is a sandwich?” I’ve had far too much gluten to figure that one out.
I don’t have to quit sandwiches though, I just have to decolonize my definitions of bread, which may only further cloud my definitions of a sandwich, but it will certainly uncloud my mind. Even colonization didn’t start out totally wrecking our ruebens, traditional grain processing included a fermentation process and/or they forgot efficiency, and gave them time to sprout first. Indian Lentils, african Corn, welsh Oats, latin Rice, ethiopian Teff, mexican Maize cakes fermented in Banana leaves, europe was all about sprouting stuff, and even america was famous for its sourdoughs. Jumpstarting grains unlocks vital nutrients, counteracts the negative effects of anti-nutrients, and simplifies their molecular structure as they become easier to digest. They’re still not necessarily good for us, and don’t provide anything that we don’t get from an otherwise balanced diet, but at least these traditional processes buy us a few generations of gluten freedom.
So we need to remember the understanding of our ancestors, but as we walk away from a life of permanent Wheat paste, we’ll also have to get used to a life with the most diverse bread concoctions we could ever imagine, at least while we’re still strung out on gluten. There’s of course the same old grains that will still be growing all over creation, like Amaranth and Crabgrass, which are both pretty healthy for us and home. And then we can up the creativity, with baked goods made from acorns, Chestnuts, Cattails, and even Sweet Potatoes. And just to get the pumps primed in your newly refurbished thinker, I’ve already been working on some fancy new ideas for the future flours of our fantastic journey.
Before I even began digging, I offered a pinch of Tobacco to Unci Maka, and to my family in the Dandelion Nation. On a later harvest, I forgot to pack an offering, so I instead transferred my energy to the Earth through a donated strand of hair from my head. The exchange is simply a conduit of vibration, and an offering from my unkempt scalp is just as powerful as a pinch of ceremony. And on a scientific level, both Tobacco and hair will provide some biological nutrition to the soil, as I remove a piece of her connective tissue.
The roots are deep, as they pull nutrition from below for all to prosper. The medicine of this root has the same effect on our livers, as it digs deep and removes toxins while stimulating digestion. So if we can figure out the pasteless pastry, then this gluten alternative may actually counteract the round-up we’ve been ingesting for years. I dried them in the oven, so almost roasted them, which is probably not the appropriate process for bread, but perfect for an energizing coffee substitute, or a moon time tea that’s good for your blood, your skin, your hormones, and even your mother’s breast milk. Yum.
I only had a little bit, so I added water, salt, and aluminum-free baking powder, didn’t hold together like a gluten ball, but I managed to get it into the pan like a pancake and it started to rise. I flipped it and it crumbled some, but only into a few pieces, and then I decided that it would make a nice topper for tonight’s other invention. I mixed the crumbles with honey as if I was making granola, stuck it in the oven for a bit, and came up with something that wasn’t bread, but it sure was tasty. And it would fit perfectly as the flower on top of tonight’s Mega Squash Surprise.
You’re gonna need a bit of backstory for this one, but I’ll have to dig even deeper than I did for the root of this creation. It all started long ago, when two hikers from the Appalachian Trail stopped by for a week, dot dot dot...
*******
Trail hippies. True connoisseurs of nomadicism. Traveling vast distances on foot, with only the supplies and food that they can carry on their backs. And they walk barefoot whenever they can. I think we’re gonna get along just fine.
And for the sake of this one-sided conversation, and since you have no other choice, we’re gonna pretend that we have already traveled back to the future. This epic homestead of the old ways, is going to function much longer than whatever colony you live in, and their current commitment to traveling light, is perfectly aligned with my astral projections of progress. So we’ll just look at this week as a living example of a symbiotic relationship between gracious host and weary traveler, in the year 3333, ooh and ahh, or it could just be tomorrow.
They sent word ahead by way of a faster hiker, or the homing Pigeon who took up residence with the Chickens, oh I got it, they used a smoke signal, duh. So we were excitedly anticipating their arrival, and then they bound in the door with gifts from the road abounding. She had a big bag of Ramps for planting, plus a few fermented to taste, and they’ll grow back more and more each year, a true gift that keeps on giving. Plus some fancy cheese, and that was back when I was still cool, so we all were aglow at the present.
We shared stories of adventure, and songs around the drum, and combined our powers to co-create a delicious dinner. They stayed in the barn with me, and they coincidentally arrived during a week of planting, so their volunteer hours were much appreciated in the garden. Happy to be of service of course, especially knowing that they were growing the very food supply, that they were discovering to be as vast as the many miles behind them.
We foraged fresh salads, made fancy flatbreads, invented quiche creations, and it was refreshing to have a new approach to preparing the same staples that we always have on hand. So not only did we get a few additions to our ingredient list, but we experienced the fusion of cooking styles and specialties, and we each walked away as evolved chefs with our new traded tricks. Well, they walked away, we stayed, but not yet.
We had the best conversations, always happy to share the 'Behind the Music of: Standing Rock', you know, that time twelve hundred years ago when the hippies and indians saved the future. And they had tales of the trail, like how their home had once been vast sand dunes, but a mason exported it all to jar up his excess profits. Or how somewhere out west, you can get free mining rights to a plot of land already damaged from destructive mining, and you only have to mine for eight hours a year to keep it, but you’re not allowed to build a permanent structure. Wonder who’d care if you just planted restorative vegetation and lived in a tipi? I’d imagine someone would, no regeneration allowed, “Look officer, I promise I’m violently extracting natural resources, you just caught me on an off day.”
We also exchanged spiritual practices, there was no need to be scared or judging of one another, because we knew that widening our understanding of the world and how others connect to her, would only deepen our own connection to the universe. We prayed at the tree our way, and then we’d meditate theirs, though we already did this sometimes anyway. And although they were itching to get on the trail, they just washed off in the creek and extended their stay until the new moon ceremony.
They went ahead with me, to light the peta wakan, and it was as special for me as it was for them. I know that one of my roles is a counselor, and that includes being a spiritual counselor for those that I am honored enough to be able to guide. I have already helped several along their paths of connection, but I have never carried the sacred responsibility of sharing my understandings of the peta wakan, and these ways to pray. Until now.
And here I was, at the lodge where I feel the most at home, with new friends that I’d already developed close personal bonds with, and they were the perfect open minds to be fully receptive of everything I had to say about our ceremony of universal connection. No pressure or anything.
But I did great, shared my heart in a way which showed me just how strong my understanding has become, and gave me much to look forward to, as I continue down this road of inspiring my brothers and sisters to join me. And most of what I shared, is already written here, and it was through this book that I had evolved my own ability to put my heart into words. Now I just gotta learn them in Lakota.
Lodge was hot, it humbled us all, and it prepared them for the journey ahead in more ways than they could ever have imagined. You don’t feel all of the effects right away, they’re still hitting me, so I’m curious where their travels into the universe have taken them thus far.
Yes, they did manage to leave, but not before we loaded them up with dried foods for the road, and fresh foods for dinner. They only have so much space for stuff, and only so much strength to carry it, so they in turn offloaded their heaviest bits of nourishment. A giant bag of trail mix. With chocolate.
There was never an expected transaction of food, and certainly not money, why that stuffs been gone for over a thousand years, but it organically occurred as members of the two-legged family lovingly parted ways. They took some native seeds to spread along the trail and repopulate the garden, and they left those Ramps to do the same here.
They carried our messages onward, as I asked them to share love with the waterways that were once on the planned route of an ancient pipeline, one that an earlier generation of hikers simply didn’t allow to be installed. And they carried the songs of our heart, as we did theirs, and one more tiny connection of light had just evolved the reunification of our cosmic creator.
*******
But before all that nonsense, we squashed it. I was put to the test of the “Squash Challenge”, a new Butternut dish every night, it was the only way to keep our abundance from catching a case of excess, though the giant mega super Squash was the epitome of surplus. We’re currently at day forty of this antifast, but I only have enough ink left for half that many, so you’ll have to settle for the best of the best, sorry.
SQUASH CHALLENGE RESULTS
(in no particular disorder)
-Squash Volcano Surprise-
This was actually the preexisting condition that inspired the challenge. I cut the bottom hollow part off, just below where it opens up, and emptied the guts like a Pumpkin. Then I rubbed some butter and honey around the inside, then I rolled out a thin dough that I made somewhere between bread and pie crust, then I managed to stuff it down into the squash so that it lined the inside as its edges stuck out the top, then filled it with a sludge that I’d already cooked with the rest of the Squash and butter and honey and cream and fresh shaved Nutmeg, then I topped with a creamy Strawberry goop of flour and baking powder, then I shaped the dough flaps like leaves atop the Squash, then I put it in the oven. And then? Then it erupted with yummy goodness. The Strawberry stuff oozed out the top, the leaves crisped, the dough inside was like a cobbler, and once the container was fully cooked, we just sat around and devoured it off of the serving platter. Certainly a winner, but we all know that preexisting conditions are disqualified. So...
-Squashiitake Omelette-
-Squashbrowns-
-Kentucky Fried Squash Rounds-
-Pickled Squash Skins-
-Rainbow Squash Slaw-
w/ Broccoli stalk and Yellow Squash
-Squash Bread-
even better for breakfast, sliced and refried
-Bread in Squash-
like the volcano, but a crustless muffin-topped bread loaf inside
-Egg in Squash-
sliced Squash neck with a hole in the middle,
precook Squash, put an ‘egg in the hole’ and fry it
-Squash-a-Latkes-
Potato cakes with AppleSquash sauce on top
-Squash Pizza-
thick Squash sauce, plus veggies, and cheese
-Vegan Gluten-Free Squash Lasagna-
layers of Butternut, Cabbage, and Yellow Squash, in a sauce of Tomato and Butternut
-Egg on Top Squash Soufflé-
soft fried Potatoes and Squash mashed into cast iron,
crack a bunch of eggs on top and broil
-Three Squash Pile-Up-
Acorn Squash roasted with butter and honey,
fill with a savory concoction of Garlic, Butternut, and egg,
top with spicy grilled Yellow Squash cross-sections
-Roasted Squash Seeds-
-Squash Bowl-
bottom of Squash used to serve a non-Squash dish (cheap shot)
-Squash Pie-
-Squash Ice Cream, Kinda-
served with chocolate Potato pudding
-Squash BreadPie Delicioso-
Squash sweet bread made with recessed center,
topped with glistening sweet creamy Squash yummy goo
(possible blue ribbon winner)
And that brings us all the way to today’s Mega Squash Surprise. Every single squashtastic creation listed, came from a seed of a single Squash that Ben and I had eaten in a creamy Squash/Carrot/Potato soup last summer, though I don’t think I ever topped that one. He’d planted one Squash worth of seeds, and this prolific plant really put out. And this year, he’ll plant the seeds from this massive Squash that I’m preparing to prepare. No squashing machine necessary, just stick them in the ground by hand, so it’s easy to imagine how effortless it would be to travel with a few seeds and spread the message of free food, all the way to Squashington DC. And just think about how sophisticated we could pretend to be, if we just planted the entire Squash, all of mother’s nutrition fueling the few seeds most evolved to live on the edge of the campaign trail.
A squash this good you can’t eat all at once, so tomorrow we’d refill it with a savory rendition, but for tonight I cut the giant bowl and loaded it with a sweet Squash/Peach/Cantaloupe filling, and then, wait for it, then I topped it with my sweet candied Dandelion granola niblets - so freakin good.
We wanted to instagram all of this to-do, but I’d feel bad stealing the souls of all those innocent Squash, so you’ll just have to exercise your imagination a bit. Or do try this at home. And I had to exercise my creativity, obviously, especially considering that I stopped cooking with butter about halfway through the event. And nobody noticed. And the Dandelions were a hit, but not bread, so I just dug a bunch more today, ate the greens for dinner, and we’ll see if the root will rise to the occasion.
*******
Dug a bunch of Burdock root too. I’d never heard of it, but it’s a super medicine, and it grows throughout the country. It’s most known for treating acne and eczema in asia, as well as women’s reproductive health, but will probably take off here as a blood sugar stabilizer for our native diabetes epidemic. It treats a bunch of other things too, like most of the wild stuff seems to do, you can pickle it, roast it, stir-fry it, and it might even be an aphrodisiac, yum. I pickled a bit and we stir-fried some last night, pretty tasty, but you can also just eat it raw.
Another protector here has been collecting and drying a bunch of Yarrow, and I finally managed to get a flesh wound bad enough to try it out. Ben said to just jam it straight into the cut, mine was a big burn actually, and it should just stick on there as it basically forms a scab. And he said that as long as I don’t pick it off or get it wet, it will heal without a scar, and I’d never even know that I’d been hurt. I thought scars were supposed to be cool though? I went for it anyway, and it made the coolest protective covering, and now I can identify it in the wild. But which plant do the band-aids grow on again?
*******
It sure would be useful for our weakened population to know about all these widespread medicines just growing out in their yards, especially once they get sick from spraying weed killer all over it, or white flour. I don’t have to keep going on about why the marketeers of the concocted study of pharmacology, would want us scared to get too close to the plant nation, they might be poisonous or something.
It’s much safer to ingest the phactory pharmied toxins that clearly explain the side-effects of legal addiction. It’s even more convenient than the poisons of the produce section, where the plastic packaging doesn’t offer warnings of the imminent danger involved. Certainly it’s no coincidence either, the symbiotic relationship between farms and pharmies, a spiral of dependence that keeps us sick and stupid, but at least they made it easy for us and conveniently packaged them under one roof.
The irony of our deficiency, is the gratuitous amount of convenience experienced by those unbrainwashed enough to buy into the hype. It’s actually quite convenient to freely step outside and dig you dinner, as its dietary dosage automatically prevents the illness consuming the polluted mainstream. The alternative medicine of the west, requires much more effort to acquire a taste for, and with every drop of lifeforce committed to the commute of commerce, we become further drained of the Earthly energies of environmental immunity.
We fill our contrivial calendars with weeks of work, so that we get the discharge paperwork that insures our recovery from the ailments of working, so that we can get back to work. But of course, food is the main reason... that we’re sick. But it’s just so darn convenient to not have to know a thing about the most important thing in our lives. It sounds like so much work to try to remember all those songs about the food that grows without a single hoe, but hey, at least our divided labor force makes it easy to forget the reason we were working to begin with. If we weren’t convinced to remain seated as we crunch the numbers of our cubicle cogs, we’d have so much time and energy to devote to the energy of our time.
Here at the farm, if you discount the cost of doing business, we just spend a few hours each day working on our food supply, which gives me plenty of time to doodle in this notebook, and still squash the competition. There were busier days of planting, and occasional days dedicated to the harvest, which left me high and dry, as I suffered through the songs of taste testing every other Cherry. But we don’t even pick what’s for dinner until the stove is already warming up. A life uncorrupted by capitalism leaves us free to experience living. Sure, there’s chores along the way, but they’re like little adventures that we can do in the now, instead of putting them off until the weekend of our lives.
I get that food’s my thing, so not everyone will be as excited to dig a Dandelion as I am, but who could possibly prefer to dig a ditch instead? I’m done with my morning duties before you’ve even made it to work on time, and I don’t have to sit through the congestion of clogged arteries to get there. On my commute to the writer’s desk, I take a deep breath of clean air, a drink of clear water, and I tip the scales with a balanced breakfast that I grab on my walk to work. How could any colonized existence possibly be any more convenient than this?
Now, I can’t afford a phone or cable or netflix, but when your life is as rich as mine, why would anyone want to dilute it with the distraction of digital clocks? I wake with the rainbow of sunrise, and sometimes I fall back asleep, but I’m eager to experience the excitement of a life that others only get to read about. A life focused on the fundamentals of living, is fundamentally more fulfilling than a focus of finance. I don’t have to worry about my next paycheck so that I can eat or heat or have a place to sleep, I jump at the chance to whip up some grubs on an open flame, as I lay my head against the heart of the most important woman in my life.
My journey is the stuff that dreams are made of, and my dreams are coming true, and the truth is, I wouldn’t trade a moment of this life for a million of your manmade dollars. My paperless banking system affords me room to negotiate life on my own terms, and it leaves me free to rediscover the secrets of the universe, as I navigate the pathways of my heart. I’m not here to tell a soul how to live, this is a personal exploration of who you really are, and as unique a story as any other. All I can hope for, is that in sharing my own adventure, I can inspire you to begin yours.
This book is just about over, I can tell this because I’m almost out of ink, and these pages have been my freely given gift to you and the rest of the universe. I expect nothing in return, though I know that I have a rewarding road ahead, however, it is customary to exchange gifts as we part ways. I currently have no room in my bag for the material, so if these words have resonated in you a desire to reciprocate the vibrations of my heart, then I can think of only one thing to ask of you. Please don’t forget.