Finding Wangapeka TRUST

Finding Wangapeka TRUST

Recently my heart cracked open, a great (but quiet) grief cry of abandonment manifesting in a lifetimes movement of not being able to trust. I have known this for sometime and I suspect those close in have seen it too. There was no hiding, no dodging the bullet, in fact a surprising willingness to meet this phenomena unfolding…

ROCKED AND REELING, DEMOCRACY IN THE SYMBIOCENE

That floating body in the water fall is Juliana, I can tell you this, it is far from tropical water.

Touchan, we just saw two of these magnificent creatures in the nearby tree.

Touchan, we just saw two of these magnificent creatures in the nearby tree.

We have come to this torn and beautiful land (Brazil) to plant seeds of rites of passage, of potential sane living that comes from clearing the stories to hear the immeasurable story of what it has taken for us all to be sharing this moment. We all get near here as some stage, keen to contribute something of value to this mystery of existence before some unknown, probably unwanted dissolving takes place into the wider fabric of the land.

Living as we in the west do within a vicinity of at least 15 obtainable kinds of bread, choice is something I am not sure we have. I am contemplating that our offering for the world is not exactly a choice but some structured dark and fruitful emergence, working us through, made of things beyond our control; on what land we are born, the curl of our tongue, the education, gender, government, ecology, geology, the nature of our parents and their parenting, their parents and so it goes, giving rise to certain predispositions, proclivities and passions. What we care about seems to be written in to us. And so with care, following the ‘Thread,’ for better and not for worse an offering emerges.

 
IMG_20190712_203404.jpg

The Way It Is ~ There’s a thread you follow. It goes among things that change. But it doesn’t change.
people wonder about what you are pursuing. You have to explain about the thread. But it is hard for others to see. While you hold it you can’t get lost. Tragedies happen; people get hurt or die; and you suffer and get old. Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding. You don’t ever let go of the thread.


Writing this I am aware it is all hanging out there now. Daring words, honest feelings, a project to offer a rites of passage with a Brazilian shaman of sorts. (Good job I have got a fierce dragon with me) Fighting to feel well, accepting not being fully well, bashed by the beauty and crookedness of this land and more.

We have been learning about democracy and what it is like be a place where that is ravaged by greed, by ignorance and aggression.

Consumerism can be seen as institutionalized greed, the military-industrial complex as institutionalized aggression and state- and corporate-controlled media as institutionalized delusion.
— Joanna Macy

Strong words for a fragile lad. It’s been a mighty week, reeling from months of climate warming news and the feeling powerless and hypocritical in the face of that. Flying in jet planes, driving fossil cars, plastic in almost every purchase. 

In the next breath I am connecting with Adge, a friend and central figure remembering this work of Rites of Passage, and I am struck by the interconnected wholesome audacity of it all, 

“Among so many faces, natives, lads and lasses of a lost generation foraging indigenous relationships to lands, creatures and tongues half way around the planet from where the bones of their ancestors lie spinning. Weaving rituals from Native Indians, Kabalaian tarot trees of fire and stone now to create new story in South America…
Buoyed not by the 80,000 years of rivered tribal memory, but a tingerling silver trickle of 20 something years of making Tracks in New Zealand.

Pausing to breathe, opening wide to include stars, scars, creatures, weathered features of rocks and faces, hearts and hearths of lives lived intimately.
Enamoured in song and prayer to be supported, now more than ever a deep reverent remembering,
a deep time seeing, this our magnanimous family of many colours.”
— Jaime

Watching Rifkins imaginings of a Third industrial revolution had us thinking. I think Joanna Macys’ work on self sustaining society has the green great heart and I know naivety lives in me when it comes to hearing Rifkins millennials view on the future of the planet. 

This week I have been digging into Albrecht’s book: Earth Emotions:New Words for a New World.

‘Solastagia’- a word to name the loss and grief we might feel when a place intrinsic to our heart and hearth is damaged and the word ‘Symbiocene.’

earth emotions.jpg

"Many are now suggesting that we should rename this period on earth as the Anthropocene. This era could be called the Obscene, not the Anthropocene. I for one, a human, do not wish to be associated with a period in Earth’s history where the dominant people in one species wipe out the foundations of life for all other humans and non-humans. I wish to be part of the “Symbiocene” where humans live in harmony with all other beings. We can do this via eco- and biomimicry and ecoindustrial economies. It’s going to be hard, but it is at least thermodynamically possible. It may even be ethical and beautiful. (“Earth Emotions: New Words for a New World" by Glenn A. Albrecht)

Sign me up, i’m in.


The Edge of Democracy.png

Rocked and reeling…Maybe. There are not enough hours to watch more films. Surely if you are not in Brazil why would you want to? But if your curious to watch an unbelievable story about a democracy dissolving ~ “The Edge of Democracy” is moving.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xLe24M_PB5E&feature=youtu.be


Netflix link https://www.netflix.com/watch/80190535?trackId=13752289&tctx=0%2C0%2C1ab85cf9e164223ea580ca51af8444d9f3dc14bb%3A234c690cc8cb38a141c0eddceef05be82aa5a41d%2C%2C

A story indeed, jailing a president from a televised power point presentation. When greed, aggression and ignorance ride the back of a dark and powerful beast. Slavery, corruption, exploitation, manipulation. Power in the hands of the oligarchy. Open to persuasion and a sure way to lift the game on coronation street.

We have arrived at the Refugio in Botucatu, the bold adventure of this immeasurable school of wisdom and compassion begins, only hours ago a number of jet lagged bodies tumbled out of a car arriving from foreign shores, soon they will be sleeping, soon we will be awakening.

Tchau, Jaime

IMG_20190817_063435 (2).jpg