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What does Organically grown really mean?
Love from Your EG, Leslie,
Some morning thoughts about
the nature of the PLANT YOUR DREAM BLOG,what
Organically grown really means, and
defining what I call professional rather
than journal writing.
Date: 12/9/2009 11:27:23 AM ( 15 y ) ... viewed 1922 times
I don't often put too many of my copywritten pieces
here on this PLANT YOUR DREAM BLOG.
At the bottom of this, you can read a piece
called THE BIRDBATH in its original form
as I wrote it, and in an edited from
that passed through the editors of HCI,
Health Communications, Inc.
HCI is the publisher I have projected having
for more than 14 years.
A writer writes. An editor edits.
For something to be professional,
it needs both good writing and good editing,
A friend earlier in the week,
expressed confusion when I told her
that I do not consider this blog
professional quality work.
At times, I do edit what I write here
a few times, especially when I receive comments
or get a sense that what I am writing has a specific intent
or purpose,
The Plant Your Dream Blog for me has been purposes.
It's primary purpose is Self Healing,
I write here to keep my fingers moving,
This is a private journal, that I allow to be made
public. Why do I publish my private feelings,
my ups and downs, my intimate life process,
including errors in thinking, and embarrassing
situations that happen to me?
Many years ago, I was at a Jewish Renewal national conference,
A man came up and bought REKINDLING OF FAITH,
a book I self-publish in an updated form every so many years,
It is the most autobiographical of my books
that I have written. That book has
well crafted poems. I have worked them over
many times, and so have others.
I would call it professional quality,
although it still has some typos and can use
improvements.
The man at that Jewish Renewal event, asked me a question,
He said, :"When did you become enlighened?"
I was taken aback by this,
I never thought of myself as enlightened
especially with the amount of broken parts I claim.
I write the way i do here, typos and all,
because I want others to be able to trace my process.
I write the way I do because I want others who
may be crippled, as I once was, to realize that we can
do good things with our time, even if we are lying in bed,
or have an intense condition that prevents us from
living the life that we imagine was possible.
I love that quote that BILL SPEAR said
to me when I came to Conneticut with a broken knee
right before my international debut at
the FENG SHUI and ECOLOGY conference in 1998.
I crossed the country in a wheel chair,
I broke my knee three days before my departure,
When I visited Bill in his office right before leaving
Conneticut, I said,
"So Bill, what do you think is next possible between us?"
I was thinking in terms of the next event we might do
together, That Connecticut event was extremely successful,
even though I taught from a wheel chair, I wanted more.
Bil said, "I am not interested into what is possible between us,
I am interested in what is impossible between us,"
WHAT IS IMPOSSIBLE BETWEEN US NOW?
We are about to enter the season of Chanukah,
the Festival of Lights
This is a holiday that tells the story of a muddied
polluted Temple and an oil lamb with enough oil to burn
for one day, but burned for eight days,
The Macabees cleansed the Temple first.
Then, they had Light for eight days.
We are all living now on a polluted earth that
asks for THE GREAT EARTH CLEANUP.
This is what 2012 is all about from my Essene Perspective.
We are entering a time of culmination,
the time when 30 years of purification are near at end,
We are in a time of reaping the harvest for all we have sown.
The breakdown of the economy was inevitable.
I was cleaning up my stuff from the basement here
at the ENCHANTED GARDEN INTENTIONAL COMMUNITY
when the "shit" was not only being exposed from our
black moldy basement, but from the black moldy
national Wall Street scene during the same hours,
during the same weeks. For me, it was all connected
what was happening locally in our backyard,
and what was happening nationally and internationally.
I was going through boxes and decluttering
at the same time I was listening to Wall Street
coming to its natural senses,
Wall Street still has a way to go before they realize
that they have already had their 2012,
THE BANK OF COMPOST
The Bank of Compost is the foundation for a true
American and global economy that makes any earthly sense,
GMO ag, and pesticide ag has had its day,
Bill Gates, the Richest man in the world, sending
millions and more to Africa to get GMO ag going there
is a doomed act,
GMO ag is not good for the Enchanted Garden,
It is counterproductive for health reform
or food Safety,
WHAT DOES ORGANICALLY GROWN MEAN???
Big Ag cannot exist without true food safety
True food safety is based on you and I being in local
"organic" community,
Please get the nuance of what I am saying here,
I did not have time to respond to my friend
MARILYN PETERSON who is coming out with a wonderful
book on vegetarian living and eating.
She asked me to define organic for her.
I was so immersed in saving the 1000's of
trees at the EXOTICA RARE FRUIT NURSERY,
that I missed the chance to be quoted in Marilyn's book.
I use to have that argument with VICTORAS KULVINSKAS
years ago, Viktoras, who has made a fortune in superfoods.
He was the author of SURVIVAL INTO THE 21st Century,
a very popular book during the Hippie days.
I wrote something once about FOOD WARS
inspired by Victoras.
Organic farming and organic food today is being
defined by the same methods that defines all fragmented
thinking, including the raw mentality.
I once met a great man named PETER BUSNACK,
Peter was a strong, big man, an Essene of old still
in touch with his Essene roots, He could cross a desert
in the heat of summer and find water, Peter was
a successful vegetarian because he has an organic
lifestyle,
My friend, Essene Rebbe Dr. GABRIEL COUSENS
is another raw foodie who lives in an organic way,
His TREE OF LIFE REJUVENATION CENTER, in Patagonia
is part of his successful raw food practice, as is his
extremely vital relationship with his wife SHANTI.
Gabriel is a yoga master, a Native American Sun Dancer,
a man who takes Sabbath once a week and prays.
He sings. He likely has sex, He gardens. He loves.
He teaches. He gives and receives. All this is part
of his organic lifestyle that allows him to eat raw
well.
Fragmentation is the major disease of our times,
As Dr. Jensen said, when you step on the tail of a cat,
it is the other end that screams,
ORGANIC IS MORE THAN A CHEMICAL COMPOUND.
INORGANIC IS MORE THAN is MATTER OF CHEMISTRY.
Organic defined by my GMO friends
is a compound, My GMO BIO friends imagine
that LUTHER BURBANK, the great plant originator,
was also a gene manipulator. Yes, he was, but
he created new foods using a model of respect for the whole,
not divide and conquer,
GMO and its alignment in health reform, and world
renowned BIG PHARMA,
creates drugs and a drug culture that is based
on breaking things down into pieces. It is based on making war
with the body. It is based on suppression of symptoms.
The body naturally elimates. Dr. Jensen did not fight a cold
but recommending it be suppressed. He encouraged catarrh
to flow. Catarrh, he would say, means, "flow".
Organic is a process, Organically grown to me means
not skipping steps.
ORGANICALLY GROWN RELATIONSHIP
Have you ever noticed in a relationship with another person
when there is an underlying decision that has been made,
and then you hear a decision that has been made without
any real two way communication? I call this disorganic thinking.
I call this skipping the next organic step,
Organic Food to us of the Hippie era, was not about
promoting a natural product merely. Organically grown
was about promoting a diet that went hand in hand with a lifestyle,
Victoras would suggest that people eat raw without
telling others that there was an organic lifestyle that went
with eating raw, DAVID WOLFF reminds me of a young Dr, Jensen,
and I have told this to DAVID, David Wolff has great charasmatic
gifts, as did Dr, Jensen. Jensen raised the dead without touching them.
He looked into people's eyes. He read the eyes. He read the soul.
He put things in as much as read what he saw. His bedside manner
made him a master.
BACK TO DAVID WOLFF
Have you noticed that David travels a lot and spends a lot
of time at places like Healing waters? Have you notice how
many women are around him and loving him up?
He gets his juice not just from the Superfood he eats and promotes,
but from the whole organic lifestyle he leads.
He cleanses and purifies by climbing high mountains,
from receiving life force from beautiful flowers as well
as beautiful men and women who love this man to "life."
WHERE AM I HEADED IN THIS BLOG????
This blog started as one thing, and has turned into another.
I started to want to write about THE BIRDBATH,
a piece that I imagined was going to be published
in the new HCI book called THE ULTIMATE BIRD LOVER,
As that book stands how, there is no room, so I will likely
send that piece on to REGINA JENSEN, my editor for
THE SPACE OF LOVE international magazine,
I have lost track of what I had to say here,
but somewhere in all I am saying here,
you will find a common thread,
Find the thread and pull it,
It may lead you to some good end
that is organically grown.
I consider this piece a journal entry,
as well as a "teaching."
Some will find it preachy,
but that's me in this moment.
love from Your EG
Leslie
On Nov 23, 2009, at 1:22 PM, Teri Peluso, Ultimate HCI Books wrote:
Dear Leslie,
First, let me thank you for your patience while we received our publisher’s approval for the selection of stories we wanted to include in this edition of The Ultimate Bird Lover.
Unfortunately, due to page-count limitations we are not going to be able to include your story, “The Birdbath”, in this edition. This decision in no way reflects on the quality of your work; it is simply a consequence of having too much great material to chose from and not being able to publish it all.
I hope you’ll continue to check our website, ultimatehcibooks.com, for other projects that interest you and that you feel are suitable for your work.
On behalf of Marty Becker, Gina Spadafori, Mikkel Becker, and HCI Books, thank you for sharing your work with us and allowing us to consider it for publication.
Warm Regards,
Theresa Peluso
HCI Books
http://www.ultimatehcibooks.com
http://www.hcibooks.com
Birdbath,
Enchanted Garden Intentional Community
$70,000 will bring a down payment
to buy out my dear co-owner SANDA.
She wants to invest in other things.
BIRDBATH
THis is LIKELY GOING TO END UP,
in part on a stone plaque in the proposed
World Class HEALING GARDEN at
the SCRIPPS INTEGRATIVE MEDICAL CENTER
MY ORIGINAL
Bird Bath
There was once a bird on a sunny spring morning, warm enough after the dew long dried, who came upon a cement puddle two inches deep just outside my screen door. There before my eyes, mother nature invited me to witness a most sacred ritual. The bird was delirious with a deep-seated sensual joy, as if something was being fulfilled, something so instinctual, so essential.
The bird stood to the right of its makeshift pond and there
proceeded to take a bath, first stepping into the water leg length, testing the temperature. Liking it, the bird underwent the most exuberant frenzied immersion, first splashing, circling round and round. She dipped one side, wet it good, shook it, stretched. Then she continued her ceremony on the other wing, dipping, wetting, stretching, shaking. So touched with this entire experience, the bird could not contain herself, and continued her little water water bathing dance with variations on the theme, wetting its little tail feathers, rolling around on its under belly, doing little hops, skips and jumps.
I was so delighted by this unabashed explosion of life that the artist in me began spinning a detailed account of what I wanted to write yet the affairs of the day consumed me. When I returned to the word canvas of my mind, colors were muddied and i had nothing to say. A moment to be seized was lost, a gift given, unshared. I mourned for weeks, somewhere in the back of my being. Oh for the integrity when we take time in the midst of being too busy to create, to create wholly.
On this day years later, when the richness of possibility again threatens to be lost to the tasks at hand, to the chores that must be done,to the churning wheels of commerce in my head, to the misspent energies of cares and worries that weeks from now will count for nothing, I'm remembering a bird and a bird bath, that chirps into eternity.
VERSION FOR PRINT
EDITED BY HCI BOOKS
FOR BIRD LOVER BOOK
The Birdbath
by Leslie Goldman
On a sunny spring morning, warm and crisp after the dew had long since dried, a bird came upon a puddle formed in a two-inch-deep depression just outside my screen door. There before my eyes, Mother Nature invited me to witness a most sacred ritual. The bird was deliriously happy with a deep-seated, sensual joy, as if something was being fulfilled, something
instinctual and essential. She then proceeded to take a bath in the makeshift pond, first stepping gingerly into thewater to test the temperature. Finding it to her liking, the bird underwent the most exuberant and frenzied immersion, first splashing, then circling round and round. She dipped one side, wet it,shook it, and then stretched. She continued with the other wing, dipping, wetting, shaking, and stretching. She could not contain her excitement and continued her water-bathing dance with
variations on the theme, wetting her tail feathers, rolling around on her underbelly, andconcluding with little hops, skips, and jumps.
I was so delighted by this unabashed explosion of life that the artist in me began spinning a detailed account of what I saw; yet the affairs of the day consumed me. When I returned to the word canvas in my mind, colors were muddied, and I had nothing to say. A moment to be seized
was lost; a gift given, unshared. I mourned that loss for weeks. On this day years later, when therichness of possibility again threatens to be lost to the tasks at hand, to the chores that must bedone, to the misspent energies of cares and worries that weeks from now will count for nothing,
I’m remembering a bird and her bath—and the joy she brought that day.
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