Thursday, January 26, 2012

Enough


“…the psychological problem of our age is a spiritual problem, a religious problem,” (C. G. Jung Speaking:Interviews and Encounters)
Some many years ago I was invited to a potluck at a friend Jan’s home. Jan had made a dish that was one of her eight-year-old daughter’s favorites, and when Kayla saw the dish, she quickly dipped into it, asking her mother how much she could have. Most of us would probably have told her, followed up with that’s enough! But Jan said, “Honey, see how many are here, and then you decide.”

This is a surprisingly difficult question! —How much is enough? It is also one of the more important questions we can ask ourselves, and sadly, a question most of us in the western world ignore. How many resources should we take, considering how many of us are on the earth (and this includes the not-human), how many resources are available, and then the impact of our taking on everything else?

Unfortunately, we have become addicted to easy access to cheap possessions and energy. To ask these questions means using less! Standard of living is not based on an experience of wellbeing, nor on how much our actions are in balance with everything around us.

A new ethic is in its infancy, incubated not only by necessity, for we cannot all live on this planet at the lifestyle we aspire to for very long, but also by the strange unhappiness that appears to be plaguing the so-called affluent. This ethic is one of reconsidering wellbeing. In a University of Sheffield study, "The Happy Planet Index" (Resurgence, No. 269, p. 20-21), three goals were considered: high life satisfaction, high life expectancy (which appears to go with a sense of overall happiness), and one-planet living. United States is well down the list, 114th place out of 143. European countries were somewhere in the middle. Latin American and Caribbean nations have the highest score of any region, an average of 59.

Another UK study found that self-evaluated happiness does not increase beyond a very modest income (about $30,000 USD a year or less) (Resurgence, No. 269, p. 29). Radical ecology (of which I would place David Abram as a thought leader, —order your tickets for our dialogue February 10 in Berkeley) draws on this, separating acquisition from wellbeing once basic needs are met. There is a growing push for decreasing economic growth as a way to support sustainability— and well being.

What in humans drives us to use more than is our share?

I return to C.G. Jung’s quote from his 1934 interview, “Is the World on the Verge of Spiritual Rebirth?: “…the psychological problem of our age is a spiritual problem, a religious problem.” He continues, “Man today hungers and thirsts for a safe relationship to the psychic forces within himself. …Science has told him there is no God, that matter is all there is. This has deprived humanity of its blossom, its feeling of well-being and of safety in a safe world” (C. G. Jung Speaking:Interviews and Encounters, p.68).

If "matter is all there is", then is "matter" the only answer for our appetites?

When I consider this issue of using less, I remember a three week backpacking trip co-leading a group of teenagers through the high Sierra. I started with 40 pounds on my back (too much for my knees!), but I was surprised at how little I actually needed. Many of the days were hard, and I was exhausted. Yet still, these many years later, for I was 26 at the time, I remember each day. I can return to the evening I watched the sun paint granite boulder mountains pink and orange and to the anticipated afternoon treat of powdered lemonade over snow. I remember how we ran low on food and had to share, knowing this would mean we each got less than we needed. Yes, we lost weight! Yet it was a time that formed my life, honing my ability to do hard things while introducing me to the ruthlessness of Sierra wilderness, an early experience of relationship to Self (as in Jung’s concept of Self as central organizing principle of the individual).

It seems in the absence of abundance of food and possessions, I acquired an early experience of abundant inner strength and an ethic of interconnectedness.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

On Grumpiness and Biodynamic Certification

Records: not my cup of tea!!
Each year about this time we are confronted with accounting for our farming practices over the last year and reporting our plans for the next. This is no small matter! In Biodynamic organic certification, we annually update four (long!) documents, two for Demeter Biodynamic certification, two for Stellar Certification Services organic certification, plus an assortment of forms for inputs, labels of inputs, crop plans and production reports, and seed search reports. Each year we submit to a rigorous regimen and pay for the privilege as well! — in inspection costs, certification costs with Demeter and Stellar, and royalties, as well as licensing costs and royalties with the County of Napa and with the California Department of Health.

We are asked: How much compost have you made? What is in it? How do you make your pile? How hot does it get, and for how long? What kinds and numbers of animals do you have? Do you haul manure, and if so, how far? (Demeter considers the energy cost of doing so.) How much compost is enough for your land? too much? How many vines/fruit trees are enough, given the land you live on? What is the impact on the larger environment of what you do?

And this is only for the compost! Every detail of farming is questioned!

I will be honest: it is a real drag to answer these questions. It puts me in a grumpy mood! A real whiner in me wonders why we have to do this, and, on top of it, pay to do so, and with three different entities!— while farmers up and down the valley are dumping toxic chemicals disguised as herbicides, pesticides, fungicides, and fertilizer ( as much of 55% of it leaving site, according Pesticide Safety, University of California Publication 3383)) and get by without paying for the larger damage they are causing! (Okay, I know this is a rant!)

One hundred years ago, these certification questions would have been easier to answer, before quantity, efficiency, and profit outpaced balance. Farms were diverse; crops were rotated, animals, a given, necessary part of the operation. But the 1970‘s brought a revolution in which monocropping and “industrial” practices for animals were touted as more efficient, and we all bought into it. It is the Faustian bargain of our age: to use whatever we can get our hands on regardless of the impact on anyone/thing else, with profit as the highest value and motive. This makes sense to the majority of the population!

Demeter insists that we consider the impact, and I suppose in the long run, this is why we keep “putting up” with this discipline. Farming in this way is similar to a psychological analysis. Who in my analytic practice has ever come because they enjoy having to look at all the ways they contribute to being out of balance within themselves and with others? Yet necessity dictates: a relationship fails, depression wraps its dark wing around the soul, the unconscious floods the night with dreams that waken.

Carl Jung said that “the psychological problem of our age is a spiritual problem, a religious problem” (C. G. Jung Speaking: Interviews and Encounters). I would say this is also true of farming and more generally, of our relationship with the earth. When we treat the earth as an object, we rationalize our exploitation of it as a right. But when we consider the Earth as a community of living beings, a symphony of spirit, ourselves only one part (and, as the Lakota say, a younger part as well!), we are opened to the connectedness of everything. Respect becomes a part of the interaction. Our environmental crisis would look quite different through the lens of respect for the other, even the not-human other.

This is one reason why my husband and I continue with the discipline of Biodynamic farming. These certification questions remind us of our interconnectedness with our farm and all that resides here, as well as with the larger ecosystem of which we are a part. It is one small way we can personally address the larger environmental imbalance we are facing.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Two Announcements!

Two events: a Radio interview and a Dialogue.


Radio Interview:

Check out Gray Scott’s radio interview of Patricia Damery on
Serious Wonder Radio www.seriouswonder.com.

THE LATEST EPISODE: EPISODE #19

BIODYNAMIC FARMING

What is biodynamic farming? Can we heal our bodies, the earth and raise our awareness by using this method? Gray Scott talks with Jungian analyst and author Patricia Damery about her book FARMING SOUL.

Dialogue: February 10, 2012

The Environmental Crisis and the Living Quest of the Embodied Psyche

An Evening of Dialogue: David Abram in Conversation with Patricia Damery

Friday, February 10, 2012, 7-9:30 pm, The Brower Center, 2150 Allston Way, Berkeley.

An event of the C.G. Jung Institute of San Francisco.

Tickets available at www.sfjung.org Availability limited. $15 students; $25 general public.

The morning I was to meet David Abram in preparation for the February dialogue with him, strong winds shook the chimney in the Truchas, New Mexico adobe in which we had been staying over the past week, playing songs whose words only the heart knows. A storm was coming. By the time we were packing up the car to return to the airport (David and I were to meet briefly in Santa Fe on our way), the snow was blowing horizontally. We feared for our safety on the drive down the winding mountain road. When we reached Santa Fe, unseasonably heavy snow had accumulated and the electricity was out citywide.

If Air has the capacity “to provide awareness, thought, and speech,” as Abram asserts the Navajo hold, then that morning Air began the dialogue! “For the Navajo… the Air has the properties that European, alphabetical civilization has traditionally ascribed to an interior, individual human ‘mind’ or 'psyche,’” Abram writes. As humans created the alphabet, moving from oral traditions toward written word, our relationship with the natural world changed. Whereas once we knew the at-oneness of dialogue with the landscape, now the written page and its words intervened, effectively removing us from the liveliness of communication with the natural world. In the hubris of apparently harnessing outer forces for our comfort or sustenance, we have become inflated. Being in relationship-with the not-human world no longer feels necessary. We no longer consider the rights of Nature. But Nature has not lost Her voice!

If Air began the dialogue, with Snow and Electricity chiming in, then where will this dialogue proceed? What awareness might come, what corrective action? What is the impact on our embodied selves of such disconnection from our environment?

Please enter this dialogue with your presence! Never has it been so important to renew our conversations with the not-human and the natural world. David is a lively and thoughtful speaker, and we are very fortunate to have him this evening in the Bay Area.

David Abram, is a cultural ecologist whose lyrical evocations in his books, The Spell of the Sensuous and Becoming Animal: An Earthly Cosmology, have captivated a generation of readers. Patricia Damery, an analyst member of the C.G. Jung Institute and a Biodynamic farmer, explores the interconnected fabric of consciousness through her books, Farming Soul:A Tale of Initiation, and novel, Snakes. She and David Abram will discuss the challenges as well as the evolutionary potential to the current ecological crisis.


Friday, January 6, 2012

Epiphany: Three Kings Preparation

The Magi 6th Century, courtesy of freechristimages.org
At the turning of the year, each January 6, we do a "gift" spray on our ranch: The Three Kings Preparation. It is a time of gratitude to the land for its gracious abundance and of renewed promise to work with the land and all that resides there in the coming year to the end that we all thrive.

The following is an excerpt from Farming Soul: A Tale of Initiation, describing this process.

Natalio arrives at 1:30 pm, just as I am beginning to stir the Three Kings Preparation. He comments, “I hope the Three Kings are light!” His unintended pun strikes me as apt.

He hopes that the Three Kings are not heavy, as he is about to carry two gallons and two cups of the preparation around the perimeter of our property, a good bit of the way quite rugged. Every fifty feet he will spray the prep outward, forming a “magic circle” of protection. This spray is called a “sacrifice” spray, which offers the energies of homeopathicgold and the resins of frankincense and myrrh at the turn of the year, an invitation to the spirits to return to their plants and animals here.

But I also see a second meaning to Natalio’s words, as I hope the Three Kings Preparation brings the light of illumination to all of us on this land and to all humankind, that we may live in accordance with our inner wisdom, knowing that life on Earth is sacred.

As usual, Natalio wants to talk. I was planning on silence. The instructions state that “the person stirring be fully conscious of and focused on the purpose,” and I was hoping to spend the full German stirring hour contemplating the energetic task at hand. Now Natalio informs me that he plans to stir, which somehow feels right. He also lives here and is connected to this land. He sacrifices his good energy to keep the plants growing and thriving. He should also be part of this offering.

So I try to explain the purpose: We are making a magic circle around the property for protection against the workings of opposing forces, within and without. In a certain way, by attending to the energy bodies of all that live here, we are farming soul: if not of the plants, the animals, and of the land itself, then of ourselves.

Natalio studies me. “Is this the work of the bruja?”

I look up at Natalio, frowning. I take a deep breath. “No, Natalio, this is biodynamics.”

Natalio points to a picture of the three rather robust kings arriving at the nativity scene, part of an article from a recent biodynamic newsletter. “The Three Kings did not bring protection,” Natalio says wryly. Then he adds, joking, “And they do not look thin.”

We laugh together. Again, I try to explain the theory, that this preparation is for the return of spirit to earthly life: gold symbolizing wisdom; frankincense, the cosmic ethers where the spirit resides; and myrrh, the survival of death. “We are warding off anything that could stop that,” I say. “We are making a promise to the spirits of our land to take care of the land and all the plants and animals that live there.”

Bruja!” Natalio nods. He is not joking now, and I give up trying to convince him that we are not concocting a witch’s brew.

As I stir, the heady aroma of the frankincense rises. We are in the sacred circle. Our laughter is part of it. Take nothing too seriously! While Natalio stirs, I dig potatoes. Donald loves potatoes, and these are very sweet and tender.

We take turns stirring, repeating fragments of our conversation, over and over, Natalio hoping that the three kings are thin, and then contemplating: Is this bruja work? Meanwhile, through stirring first one way and then the other, we throw the water into chaos so that it may receive the energies of the Magis’ gifts. To these gifts, we add one of our own, laughter. Donald comes to the kitchen door to observe us. The dogs also watch for a while and then, bored, go to sleep.

At 2:30 pm, Natalio strains the preparation into the backpack sprayer and takes off. “If this is a magic circle,” he says, now quite serious, “then it is important to end where I begin.” I wonder if he knows the layers of meaning in his words. He walks first to the valley oak from which the spiral of stars appeared to me several years ago, then proceeds west with determination. He stops and sprays once outwards, then walks ahead 50 feet and sprays again.

I open and stretch my heart to encompass the meadow as the energy of the meadow swells to meet me. The mist from the backpack sprayer catches the sun, shimmering with rainbows, then fades into a golden arc. As Natalio disappears into the forest, I imagine the arc of light becoming a sphere that contains all the living things on this land, my family and me; the animals, birds, and insects; plants in abundant variety; and even the spirit realm, where devas and deities reside.

In my vision, we are all thriving.

I picture my teachers living and dead, and those family members who have also passed, and I give thanks for them. I feel their love. Everything is a part of the web, inextricably connected to everything else. I remember Pansy’s sweat lodge prayer: Mitakuye oyasin.

All my relatives.

The world feels larger as the new year begins.




Wednesday, December 28, 2011

The Nature of the Way: Marked by Fire

Detail of the Way
You know when you find your path, because there is a little extra energy there that tugs on you. It is seldom something you planned. The alchemists knew this path: when everything is black, then you know you are on the right course. Before it’s over, everything not connected to your bedrock will shatter; your life will be changed forever.

And yet, this path endured demands you make regular sacrifice of ego’s agenda to this tug from Self, leading you into the largeness of psyche and an expanded relationship to yourself and to the universe.

The stories in Marked by Fire: Stories of the Jungian Way, a collection Naomi Ruth Lowinsky and I just finished co-editing (to be released April 2012), are descriptions of the authors’ own paths, individual and unique, yet also with a common element in being guided eventually to, and then by, the philosophy of C. G. Jung.

The book had its own way with Naomi and me, as synchronicity guided us, confirmed when we were on course, alerted us to when we were not. It is a weaving of many stories, even one of finding the cover image. While editing the book, we spent a week in retreat at Opus House (!) in Truchas, New Mexico. One day we ambled into the Cardona-Hine Gallery. Barbara McCauley met us at the door, showing us her paintings and those of her husband. She took us on a tour of her husband’s studio, and then, almost as an afterthought, of her own. Most of Barbara’s paintings were of the New Mexican landscape painted with rich and beautiful earth colors. The first painting we pulled out showed an woman in rose red confronting the viewer with an enigmatic stare. She rides a lowly donkey and above her is that whirl of informing Spirit. Flight to Egypt, the title of this piece, tugged us both! This is it! There is no physical baby in the painting: Mary’s stare informs us of the enormity of the divine birth, suggests we question its nature, reflects the humbleness of journey we must take to protect it. That is what these author’s stories are about.

From Fisher King Press:
Marked by Fire: Stories of the Jungian Way
is a soulful collection of essays that illuminate the inner life.

When Soul appeared to C.G. Jung and demanded he change his life, he opened himself to the powerful forces of the unconscious. He recorded his inner journey, his conversations with figures that appeared to him in vision and in dream in The Red Book. Although it would be years before The Red Book was published, much of what we now know as Jungian psychology began in those pages, when Jung allowed the irrational to assault him. That was a century ago.

How do those of us who dedicate ourselves to Jung’s psychology as analysts, teachers, writers respond to Soul’s demands in our own lives? If we believe, with Jung, in “the reality of the psyche,” how does that shape us? The articles in Marked By Fire portray direct experiences of the unconscious; they tell life stories about the fiery process of becoming ourselves

Contributors to Marked by Fire: Jerome Bernstein, Claire Douglas, Gilda Frantz, Jacqueline Gerson, Jean Kirsch, Chie Lee, Karlyn Ward, Henry Abramovitch, Sharon Heath, Dennis Patrick Slattery, Robert Romanyshyn, Patricia Damery, and Naomi Ruth Lowinsky.

Available Spring 2012.  Paperback & eBook editions - Advance Orders Welcomed

Product Details
Paperback & eBook editions: 150 pages (estimate)
Large Page Size Format 9.25" x 7.5"
Publisher: Fisher King Press; 1st edition (April 2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1-926715-68-3
ISBN-13: 978-1-926715-68-1

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Manger Scene

My sister and I called the nativity the “manger scene”. We would get the set out of the attic for the first Sunday in Advent. The scene had the holy family, of course, and an assortment of angels, but also a cow, donkey, two sheep, and a shepherd. My grandmother’s set was so huge it stretched across her fireplace mantel. At one end a group of shepherds sat around a fire with a herd of sheep. On the other end were three kings with their camels, a well with a tiny moving bucket, and more angels. Mary, baby Jesus, and Joseph were in the center.

When my sons were born, we got a nativity set, which they often played with in their early years. The baby Jesus disappeared and we had to replace him, so he looks a little different from his parents. Since the death of my parents and grandparents I have added an assortment of their figures, plus a large bean bag serpent (a gift from friends when I was writing Snakes), several goats (all of these gifts), a large rabbit (family heirloom no one else wanted), and pictures of our several deceased relatives, friends, and animals.

St. Francis overlooks all of this. This saint loves animals. I realize the appropriateness of the word “manger” as a manger is a feeding trough for animals. By nurturing the animal within, our embodied selves, we await a new consciousness born in matter.

This poem addresses this. I wrote it when our goats first came into my life.

CHRIST

Grey day and rain, all night, rain.
I bring aromatic oat hay fragrant from July fields
and the goats wait, fat as potatoes from a week
of waiting. Waiting... for sun. The world is damp and sodden.
I smooth the stiff hair along the spine
of each fat black body, each warm earth body,
hunkered down in the darkened barn,
one small window embroidered by spider.

Pungent from a week of confinement,
steamy from body heat and urine,
they nuzzle the fresh straw I bring, then sink deep into it, tucking stocky legs underneath, to ruminate and to wait...


Now I understand why Christ was born somewhere like this,
in our animalness, almond eyes glistening in the dim light,
sturdy bodies full of vitality, gaining substance
from the wait. I understand
why It happens in the longest darkness, in the whisper
of animal breath and the stinging scent of straw
dampened by days of goats waiting out storms.




First published in Psychological Perspectives, (Vol. 44, 2002)

Thursday, December 15, 2011

On Designing a Building— Or Writing a Novel

In this season of the dark when we await the return of the light, I offer this story of relationship to mystery.

A building or town will only be alive to the extent that it is governed by the timeless way. It is a process which brings order out of nothing but ourselves; it cannot be attained, but it will happen on its own accord, if we will only let it happen. —Christopher Alexander, The Timeless Way of Building, ix.

The way I learned to write a novel was through reading architect Christopher Alexander’s The Timeless Way of Building. “To seek the timeless way we must first know the quality without a name,” he says. The quality is “objective and precise” and “the central search of any person… the crux of any individual person’s story.”

It was this philosophy that motivated me to listen for that quality in my own writing. In early years I was compelled to write snakes stories that I had heard over and over as a child. The stories were entertaining and often funny, but as I listened for “this quality that could not be named”, I began to question what the stories were really about.

Being a Jungian analyst, I am trained in listening to the undercurrents of dreams, and these snake stories were like collective dreams. I noticed how people told me their own snake stories when they heard mine, many of their stories similar. What was the collective dream, the unnamed quality in the stories? The serpent is an archetypal image, one that has counterparts in all cultures. It is often associated with earth energies, as in the serpent lines of England, or dragon energies of the East. As I contemplated this, a character Angela arrived, and a story unfolded. To the extent that I could stay open to the mysterious quality imbued with liveliness, the action proceeded. When I worried about where it was going, the action stopped. It was an exercise in letting go but staying present to record what turned up.

Alexander offered help here, too; I read his work like sacred scripture. “But though this method is precise,” he instructed, “ it cannot be used mechanically. … it turns out that this knowledge only brings us back to that part of ourselves which is forgotten. …what it does is not so much to teach us processes we did not know before, but rather opens up a process in us, which was part of us already.”

Like the personal psychological analysis I was undergoing at the time, writing Snakes (2011) required I trust my psyche for the images and the stories coming to me. “…we learn …that this capacity in us is not accessible, until we first go through the discipline which teaches us to let go of our fears.” Fear, as any of us who write know, is a major component of writer’s block. So I wrote, reassured that something could come of this process of shooting the rapids of my psyche. After Snakes came Farming Soul: A Tale of Initiation (2010), and then forthcoming novel Goatsong (2012).

I look for this quality in other writers’ works. I cannot continue reading if it is not there. Mystery is compelling. There is a huge difference when an author has opened to the mystery of his or her psyche, or when he or she has only fabricated a plot. These fiction authors open to mystery: Barbara Kingsolver, Regina McBride, but also those less known, but equally gifted who are also participating in this : Smoky Zeidel, Malcolm Campbell, Elizabeth Clark-Stern, Sharon Heath. But so does the nonfiction of  C.G. Jung in The Red Book, and Naomi Lowinsky’s Sister from Below, and Leah Shelleda’s poetry. The varied writings of Stephen Harrold Buhner, offer roads into mystery nonfiction.

“Each one of us has, somewhere in his heart, the dream to make a living world, a universe,” Alexander asserts. That is what writers do: use the dream blueprint within the heart to write the universe without. Learning to do this is one of the several gifts of this dark season.

To continue on on this blog hop, please visit author Debra Brenegan at

http://debrabrenegan.blogspot.com/
And please consider supporting these small press authors by purchasing their books for your gift list!


Participating Authors: Sleigh Bells and Ink Wells

Smoky Zeidel http://SmokyZeidel.wordpress.com 
Melinda Clayton http://AuthorMelindaClayton.xanga.com
Ramey Channell http://SweetMusicOnMoonlightRidge.blogspot.com/
Leah Shelleda http://www.leahshelleda.com/




Christopher Alexander, The Timeless Way of Building. New York: Oxford University Press, 1979.