After my teachings in Dharma, I walked on a cloud home...the whole three blocks. My phone which I had left on the bedside table was jumping of course. Missed texts and missed calls all within minutes of my entering the house. How exhausting this little black box is, always ringing at the wrong moment and documenting the texts and messages as it goes.
I am being summoned to the mountain for work it seems....so much for my cloud floating and general state of well-being. Time for work and lots of it, but with a grey heart and a recent peak surge of positive energy I decided to run with it. To the forest, the top of a mountain. To the house of a "friend" we shall call him who in this day and age is in the business of providing greenery to the masses at top notch prices.
California is a strange place, in the midst of what we call the "green gold rush" which is clever terminology for the planting, harvesting and selling of weed. There's alot that goes into that process actually and a whole industry of people working behind the scenes to get that nugget to your pipe so you can smoke it. I am one of the workers behind the scenes. I am a miner in the gold rush...or if you like a farmer on the land.
My job description varies from month to month and week to week. One day I may show up and do nothing but trim the cola buds until my eyes are crossed and my neck is crimped. The next week I may be sent out into the farm land to gather supplies,dig holes or run trash to the dump. Sometimes the sun is shining and the wind is hot and others the rain is pelting down and you cant feel your fingers inside your gardening gloves.
One consistent is the dirt. There is always dirt to be collected...on your person, in your shoes, hair and any other place exposed to the outside. Between the trim dust and the resign sticky blobs regular farm dirt collects. The water is rusty so showering never quite fixes the issue.
There are numerous people on the farm at all times, for security and also because there are numerous jobs to be done immediately at all times. Ever wonder why farmers have ten kids... because there are ten jobs to do that's why. This is no different, sometimes you get along with people and new friends are made. Other times the scene is strange and silences ensue, the general understanding is get your work done and talk later.
I drink matte I smoke pot and I work my ass off and that is my relationship with this farm. A place high in the mountains, far from my daily city life beneath the trees and immersed in silence. Headed by hippies, and passed through the years down on to me.
It was strange at first...I didn't really understand what was going on. My friend was sleeping with the owner of the farm and we were there. Little workers toiling endlessly in the rain and mud. Hauling and scraping and cleaning busting our asses and paying our dues. As time marched on we did too...in between our trips to Thailand,Peru,India and Philippines. I made pilgrimages up the mountain to work and save money for traveling. I sweated in the sun and dug holes in the green house. I pulled weeds and constructed beds for organic produce in the yard. We chased chickens and wrangled dogs. Fought with the neighbors about property lines and through it all harvested and planted and harvested some more.
Now I arrive and sit at the table, I smile and laugh and I find myself with more dignified duties around the farm if there is such a thing. I have friends and Ive seen everyone's "babies" (babies are little grows or plants) I know the layout and Ive heard the secrets. People have come and gone...and new ones continue to pop in and out of the old. Its a community and a family and I am a part. Every time I return I find myself with a lot of time to think. To make decisions about my life and to sit with those decisions for indefinite amounts of undisturbed time. I all to often push aside these thoughts and decisions due to my busy schedule and bustling city life. So In a way its like a little mini travel session to the outskirts of me.
Ive contemplated so many big decisions there on the property...it seems almost like a typical weekend at this point. Everything seems to come to a head and get resolved for me there. Money is being made of course at the bottom of everything I am there to work. The things that happen in between are what make it so interesting.
For example on my return trip this summer... having arrived conflicted about the prospect of leaving for Thailand again possibly without my so called boyfriend that has indeed caused much turmoil these last few months. On the verge of buying that airline ticket or staying safe in the USA behind my desk job miserable. Fresh from the Dharma lecture, and confused as all hell with myself.
I found myself face to face with a huge green house brimming with trees. Sticking out from every side were large tree sized plants. Stretching themselves into the sun, lurching into the harvest. The job at hand was overwhelming. The only way to really navigate this maze of trees was to crawl hand and knee bound through the underbrush. Sitting there on the ground in the middle of the forest stretching 12 to 15 ft high over our heads. My friend and I sat staring upward watching the rays of sun filtering down through the madness above. Our shirts and skin sticking to each leaf and bud as we crumpled up across from each other to talk.
There under the leaves we conversed as if by secret meeting of the minds. Like small children hiding in the barn or up in the tree house. Catching up since I had last been there...speaking about quitting my job and helping again full time. Our dreams of traveling and creating on the front burner. Staring at each other and trying to read the new wrinkles and folds our faces had acquired between our last meetings. "I would never leave you out in the world..my friend" she tells me "we would always bring you home. We need you too much here to leave you somewhere." she shakes her head and stares out over the ledge to our left. Her reassurances aside we still converse about my formulated plan of travel and the fact that I am going to be very much alone. I haven't faced this yet...in fact Ive been avoiding it. The world does not scare me here at the bottom of the forest however and it seems a hidden spot enough that maybe I can hide from my inner questions for quite a while here in the underbrush, twirling a leaf in my hand that has carelessly fallen to the ground. Things are simple...days are short and the time flys by far to fast. The people are smiling and the over all attitude is good.
There is a tiny cabin on the outskirts of the property and I stay there. No bathroom no TV and nothing really but a bed and a portable heater. There are large glass windows on all sides of the cabin so you sometimes feel like you are sleeping directly in the trees. I think alot in there.. and things get real. This weekend was no exception. I tossed and turned all night plagued by strange dreams and self doubt. Sitting up in bed and contemplating my sources of pain, this went on all night. Like an Indian sweat lodge gone wrong...cold and damp instead and alone. Thoughts racing through my mind, "what have I done with my life" "I'm almost thirty and I cant find a mate" "I'm leaving my house, my job, and my business to travel the world ALONE" "what will happen to me?" "am I going to be okay?" "Is this what I want" Is this a dream? who am I? What have I become....what should I do? Is this the right path? How do I know? I am alone now.....I am alone.
The words came pounding in...through the forest at break neck speeds. Infiltrating the walls and covers the glass and wood. Nesting deep within myself. I felt an overwhelming sense of fear, and I cried.
Alone and cold in a cabin on the ridge of a mountain somewhere in this world is a girl, a woman, crying in fear of the unknown. Trying to find an answer the courage and a friend to share it with. Never in my life have I had such and intense horrible introspective trip. All the psychedelic drugs combined all the late nights on cocaine in the mirror wishing my boobs were perkier or my jawline less defined paled in comparison to this night spent in the cabin with myself.
I passed out on myself, at the peak of my fearful episode. Somewhere in between the bouts of fear and self doubt a little voice came out of nowhere and placed a thought in my head. "Have no fear" and the lights went out. Like an invisible switch somewhere inside just flipped off or maxed out. Someone overseeing this whole ordeal must have tired of watching and decided to put me out of my misery. I woke the next morning feeling like I had been through a war. Almost expecting the cabin around me to be in shambles..as a result of the turmoil it harbored inside that night.
I stepped out into the morning light a bit confused but with no energy to fight or process fearful thoughts. I receded back into myself and just went about the day. I smiled and laughed and played the game at the farm. When Sunday came to an end and it was time to go home, I ended up in the car with my mother driving through the last light of the day. Over the orange bridge to my blue house in my little colored by number life. I sat down in my room exhausted and decided two things, one I would not attend my office job tomorrow. Secondly that instead I would buy my ticket and take a ride into the unknown...and live by the words that came in the night..."have no fear." something is out there for me...and its calling.
Sometimes the hardest thing to do is simply follow through with your desires. To grab onto what you want and take all the steps to getting there without second guessing your path. Sometimes the person you hate most is you standing there with a huge bag of reasons to not take the next step. The dragon sized doubt cloud surrounds you...and you spend the night fighting. Sometimes its those nights that make us just that much stronger for the journey.
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