Posts Tagged ‘rewilding

31
Oct
12

The Bottom

When you step off a city bus

In Sellwood
on a bright October day
leave the sidewalk
pass through upright poles
stand in sunlight
gulp water from a fountain

that’s when you know you’ve stepped
out of the world you know
off the grid
out of the race

And into stability
into connectedness
back to the Earth

A world living
growing
whole.
Continue reading ‘The Bottom’

10
Oct
12

The Chickens and the Half-wild Heart

It’s been a few short months since the half-wild years ended. For two years Annie, Niamh, our dog Gunnar and I lived in the Scappoose/St. Helens area, a rural cluster of towns an hour’s drive out of Portland. We moved there to live on land; we moved there to raise a daughter away from the stress and grime and danger of the city; we moved there to raise animals and grow food; we moved there to know deep peace and let our souls drink deep of the song of stars and trees and hawks and dragonflies.

And after two years at two farms, we’re back in the city, having traded a field for a yard, a wild space for a domesticated grid. We didn’t make this decision lightly, and we made it for positive, proactive reasons: to finish school, both of us, and to partner with relatives in caring for Niamh. This is a step forward, not a retreat. But we did leave the wild place, which upon our departure Annie named the Big Green. It wasn’t that wild, honestly. We were just off the highway, and the second farm was bounded by a row of housing developments. But it was wild enough, wild enough to be alive, to speak to us, to breathe its breath through us, to make us feel that we were living on planet earth and sharing that life with other furred, feathered and leafy neighbors.

Continue reading ‘The Chickens and the Half-wild Heart’

05
Jun
12

Body

I am carrying my body
Or maybe it carries me
A vessel of muscle and respiration
Of heartbeat and headache

Lifting me

From a place of relative peace
Into that river of fear and happiness
And sensation and tension and annoyance and excitement

That I call
“My day.”

It lifts me, and I drag it
Wheezing and protesting
Toward duties and desires
Straining toward outcomes.

Continue reading ‘Body’

04
Jan
12

An outcry for the new year

In every cup of joy
a drop of heartache

A tang
Continually reminding
of the poison in the well.

In every breath of life
the wheeze of death

A rattle
Marking the slow march
of every endeavor into decay.

In every heartbeat of courage
the skip of fear

A moment
Of sheer terror
that the talons will close.

Continue reading ‘An outcry for the new year’

30
Oct
11

The World Behind

Poetry time! A reflection on our recent move, from a wild farm to a tamer one a few miles away.

I’ve left a world behind me

Like so many before

But this one

Was a world my heart loved

A world

That shone joy onto my face

That breathed peace into my lungs.

Continue reading ‘The World Behind’

26
Sep
11

Free

A poem, conceived in the wild and incubated at the Bridge:
 
I am NOT a slave.
I know it in my bones
But it’s easy to forget in the maze
A truth drowned by the lies of plastic and steel.
 
Freedom there is pain
Freedom there is rage
Freedom there is impossible
 
So I chain myself
And hate it.
I chain myself
And love it
And hate myself.
 
Continue reading ‘Free’

15
Nov
10

We All Suck at Joy

Regular readers, if any remain, no doubt have noticed that there have been no posts on Story by the Throat! in a long, long time. There are a number of reasons for this. There are a lot of things pulling on my mental and physical resources that make it difficult to do such a simple thing as write blog posts.

I’m going to be real with you for a moment. My life is not what I want. like, really, truly deeply falling short of what I dream and yearn for. Oh yes, I have many pleasures, many wonderful, enriching friends, many creative and fulfilling pursuits available to me. And of course I live a life of incredible privilege compared to most of the world. But still somehow I find myself beaten down by life until I can barely even remember my dreams, much less pursue them. I drive many miles to work long hours at a job I hate, for a world machine designed to chew me up and spit out the bones. The joyous work I dream of doing–celebrating story, poetry, music–is unsupported in society outside of a corporate-sponsored celebrity system. The precious work that awaits me at home–husband, father, simple liver off the land–increasingly declines as the job exacts its toll. It takes the best wine from my cup and leaves me with dregs.

It’s like I’m running a deficit on spiritual resources; everything I do, everything I attempt, requires a loan against a soul reserve I can’t back up. And acts of love, of creativity, of joy, are the most draining, so it’s much easier to sit and anesthetize the ache with entertainment and frivolity. My time and energy are drained away until I have none left for the pursuits I care most deeply about.

And I’m not alone. I think many of us, maybe all of us, are suffering in one degree or another from this soul disease. Someone I love has found themselves stuck, trapped in a life that looks far different from what they planned, hemmed in with debt and workload and isolation until even the ability to hope for more is numbed.

Continue reading ‘We All Suck at Joy’




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