The Five Skandhas

"What a voyage this has been,
This life of mine!
Every hour I wake, to find some new blossom,
Hanging in the trees over my head!
Blossoms the shape of clouds,
Blossoms the shape of fire,
Blossoms the shape of love.
All that has already passed away,
And all that is still to come,
On this long strange road."

--Clive Barker

Flower of the Week:

Red Quinoa, growing on the farm. Not really a flower (I don't think)...but look at how lovely it is!

Buddhist Lesson of the Week:

The Five Skandhas

Beautiful field of squash growing on the farm

When the Buddha attained enlightenment, he made a choice: although he could have easily continued to live a life of unrestrained awareness, entirely unto himself, he decided to share his insights with those the wounded and suffering world so that all beings may be liberated. The first teaching of The Buddha was of The Four Noble Truths (there is suffering, there is a cause of suffering, there is the cessation of suffering, and the path to that cessation is The Eightfold Path); the second was The Five Skandhas. The Five Skandhas are also known as The Five Aggregates. They comprise the entirety of our realized existence, but are themselves inherently empty. One of the aims of meditation and practice is to realize the emptiness of each Skandha, thus realizing the emptiness of our experienced reality. It is one of the primary teachings in The Heart Sutra that Avalokiteshvara gave to Shariputra: the emptiness of everything we experience, of everything we are. It is not entirely easy to understand the Skandhas and what their emptiness means, I think. I took a five-week course on the Skandhas, followed by a six-week class on the Heart Sutra, and I am still not entirely clear on what it all means all of the time (sometimes I feel clarity, only for it to be forgotten). I definitely find it hard to remember to meditate on them. Nonetheless, I will try my best to explain them now, but briefly. The Five Skandhas are: form, sensations, perceptions, formations, and consciousness.

Form: Our immediate sense perceptions, our experience

Sensations: Our mind and body's reaction to the sense perceptions

Perceptions: Categorizing, naming, and recognizing the sense perceptions

Formations: Action in regards to the sense perceptions, or volition, or where karma exists

Consciousness: The awareness that you are aware
*More or less*

Pumpkin growing on the farm

The idea is that if you look at any one of the Skandhas, you realize it is nothing. It is only the manifestation of everything it is not, just like everything else. I realize that sounded rather esoteric; it is, I think, a rather esoteric meditation, so it is hard for me to describe it otherwise. I think that, essentially, if you think about the image you are seeing, right now, as you read this, it begins to become nothing. The fact that you realize it as something that you are perceiving, outside of yourself, helps differentiate it as something separate from yourself. Your vision is no longer "you", it is separated as the manifestation of light and your eyeballs and your optic nerve and the cones and rods in your eyes. It is the realization that that image is imperfect as a representation of reality anyways, because your brain flips the image right-side up, after it had already been flipped upside down by the lens in your eye, and then broken up and processed by our menial variety of light-receptive cells. We cannot see light outside of the spectrum provided to us from our rods and cones, we cannot see things that our eyes cannot reach, we cannot see what is beyond our immediate scope. Although, for most of our existence, we do not separate what we see from where we are or what we are, as soon as you begin to look at the actuality of even that one sense perception, you see it as only a very small part of you, of your experience, of the potential of understanding provided to you from your minute position and understanding in the universe. 

We can think about what we see, when we do see: we look at an object, and our mind immediately labels it (most of the time). Your eyes take in images of chairs, tables, floorboards, plaster walls, computer pixels, your friend Steven, your own hands on the keyboard, and it immediately labels all of those things as such. We do not need to consciously do so. Where do those names come from? Where does that innate need in us to label things come from? What actually is that table? When we see that table, we only see it as it exists now (and even then to a limited capacity); we do not see its wholeness. We do not see the tree that grew and then was cut-down to create the wood; we do not see the lumber mill where it was processed; we do not see the factory worker who assembled the cardboard box it was shipped in; we do not see the Ikea floor attendant who stacked it on the shelf in the store; we do not see the carbon and phosphorous and other miscellaneous elements relating in a rigid manner to create a solid entity...and so on. 

How do I interact with that table? With the people around the table? Where does that volition to act and say such things come from? Where do the words that I used to speak such thoughts come from, both within history and within my own mind? 

How does this neural network, this dense coalition of cells efficient at organizing electrical impulses, this mash of gray matter in my skull, how does it all work? Why does it feel the need to identify and understand, to feel and respond, to react? What does any of it have to do with life? With the world? With the enormity of the universe?

Anyways, if we look at any aspect of life, it can easily be broken down into an aggregation of different thoughts, different questions, different understandings, all of them dependent on so many other factors, most of which we cannot really understand ourselves. Buddhists chose to look at just five of those aggregations, however long ago. If all this lesson does is spur more questions and more confusion, then that's kind of a good thing; it's kind of the point, I think.

Investigate for yourselves what it means to be alive and feeling! If you'd like to do such a thing, that is.

Beautiful field of squash on the farm

Life at the Center:

Corn growing on the farm

I did not write a post last week. I did not write a post because I did not want to. I wanted to be out in the sun, floating around the valley, doing what I pleased in the moment. It was sunny and beautiful last weekend. It was warm and vibrant, and restful and energizing. This weekend it is cold once more, but it is alright. Perhaps the exterior chill helps to highlight my inner warmth (at least for the time being).

I have many reasons to feel internally sunny this weekend, as is the case most every weekend. Even on the weekends that I'm depressed or anxious, I have something to be thankful about, many things to be thankful about. Although it is perhaps considerably self-indulgent to consistently be listing all of the many myriad magical elements that comprise the splendor that is my existence, this is MY blog, so you know, that's how it is. It is hard for me to know where to start, but I shall find a spot and then begin!

September has been designated as "Food Awareness Month" for Green Gulch Farm. This means that every day during work circle we are read out a fact, poem, quote, thought, or any other such thing pertinent to food. We are also given a theme for the week, something for us to think about as we approach our meals throughout the week. Last week's theme and intention was to consider "What is enough?" It was a good thought-exercise, I feel. It is easy to eat when you have unlimited access to food. That is not only true here, but I think of most people in advantaged countries or lifestyles. I am consistently piling way too much food on my plate, just because I can and I want to. This week I only took, at most, two bowls of food at each meal: one of the main entrees, and one of greens. When I was done with my bowls, I would really think about if I really needed or wanted more, and usually, I didn't. It was a good thing to be aware of. 

Quinoa growing foreground, corn in the
background

On most every Sunday (today being the exception) we are also going to be treated to a sustainability dinner, where the entirety of the meal is comprised of food from either the farm or local sources. The first one, and so far the only one we've had, was entirely comprised of food from the farm and garden here, except for the salt and oil used. It was delicious. Instead of it being served in the buffet-style typical of our meals here, it was served family style, at tables beautifully decorated with vibrant bouquets entirely crafted from edible plants. The ugly yellow tablecloths that characterize our dining room normally were instead covered by nice white and green tablecloths, and we ate by candlelight. It was divine, and a miraculously cozy make-over of our otherwise drab dining space. I am thankful for the hard work of everybody in my sangha who worked (and who continue to work) so hard on bringing this magic and awareness into our lives. I am thankful for the reflection offered by their hard work--the increased awareness of the complexity and enormity of the importance that food holds. It is what sustains us, continuing our lives, continuing our experiences. It can heal and, if grown and handled disrespectfully, harm. The agricultural industry is responsible for so much of the suffering on the planet, of the planet. Returning to organic agriculture is vital for not only the health of our planet, but the health of ourselves (which cannot really be separated from the health of our world and soil).

On that note, I am also thankful for the opportunity provided to our tiny community of organic farmers, gardeners, land-stewards, and chefs to meet and speak with Amigo Bob Cantisano. Amigo Bob is one of the foremost pioneers of organic agriculture in our country in the 70s, and as he described it, he just seemed to have stumbled into it all. Nevertheless, he is an incredibly important figure for our country's efforts to sustainably produce food. He helped found the CCOF (California Certified Organic Farmers), the first certifier of organic farms in the country. He also helped to write the first law on the regulations of organic farms. He has many other accomplishments on this front, and honestly, I can't remember all of them. Today he runs his own small farm, but his main work is in his day-job of being a consultant for organic farms on their organic practices and how they can make improvements to their soils, compost, and other such systems so as to be more fruitful--within the confines of organic agriculture. He gave a very inspiring talk (that I don't think he intended to be entirely inspiring, it was just him talking about his life, for the most part, in a rather casual manner). He also walked around the farm and talked to the farm and garden crews about the health and farming practices of Green Gulch, which I missed. Anyways, I am thankful for the opportunity to have met this extraordinary man and to be re-affirmed in my growing understanding that organic agricultural practices have the potential to save our lady Earth, our care-giver and home. She needs to be taken care of, too.

Sunflowers growing on the farm

Today we had our first class in a six-class series taught by the magical sage Wendy Johnson, as well as Qayyum, the charming and somewhat enigmatic farm manager. The class is "Buddhism and Ecology", and it's going to be an entirely grounding class, in many senses of the word. It is difficult for me to fully articulate just how lovely and whole Wendy is--she speaks in poetry, and every sentence she speaks teaches me more about myself and the world. That is not an over-exaggeration. She is a wonder of our world, and she herself continuously is in wonder at our world. She loves so clearly, honestly, and without pretense. She expresses her appreciation for the world in it's entirety, the good with the bad, and teaches how the bad can highlight the good. I cannot wait to see what insights both she and Qayyum will provide on how to use our practice in action, on how to love the Earth as a being and realize it's interconnected nature (which is what Ecology is, after all, but just a more science-y way of doing so). I am thankful to have the opportunity to grow and learn under Wendy's teachings and reverence. 

Three farm cuties: Max, Dominic, and Steven

But, most of all, I am thankful for some of my dearest loves coming to visit me this past week! It has been quite the whirlwind of visitors for this gal right here. On Thursday evening I was treated to a delightful visit from Rachel Irons and Luke Leone. Rachel and I lived together in college, and then moved to Hawaii together for a little bit. Luke and I grew up in the same town, but didn't really become friends until he moved to Boulder--where I went to college--and became friends with all of my friends. It was so lovely to see the both of them. They have spent the summer hiking the PCT and were just done with Burning Man when they came to see me. They helped me in the garden, and we took a lovely walk to the beach, and they enjoyed some dinner (fennel lasagna, that crafty kitchen). On Friday I was able to see Rachel again for about an hour (she surprised me!) and I was able to meet her lovely friend Sam as well. Rachel and Luke gave me the gifts of chocolate, potato chips, and beer (shhh), all of which have been appreciated immensely.

Yesterday, Saturday, I got to see Billy Gordon. Billy is also a friend of mine from Boulder. He lives in Anchorage, Alaska, currently (where he grew up), and is on a road trip on the way to Colorado, where he and I will attend the wedding of two of our best friends, Dana Shier and Jordan Breakstone, in a couple of weeks. Billy and I walked through the farm and garden, hung out at the beach, and then climbed the Tree of Liberation (not a euphemism). He had lunch here, and we went and sampled some beverages from The Pelican Inn. He also gave me a wonderful gift--a guide for learning how to speak the language of Klingon (from Star Trek, if for some reason you don't know). I had a serious discussion with Juniper about how I feel like I should learn Klingon (because, you know, why not?) and here Billy comes and provides for me such an opportunity. Friends make your dreams come true, it turns out.

The lovely Miss Duras

I am so undeniably grateful for all of them in my life, and that they would make the effort to come and visit me in my little ole monastic valley. They are beautiful beams of light that came and entered my life and revived me a bit. I am feeling so happy and confident right now! And I think that that is mostly because of the love of my friends, coming to listen to me and to share their own lives a bit. I love them so much! SO MUCH!

This past week I had the absolute pleasure to interview Duras Ruggles, a second-year farmer, for the "Get to Know a Farm/Garden Apprentice" segment (below). I found her interview to be insightful, poignant, and very endearing. I hope you all enjoy getting to know Duras a little bit more as much as I did!

Book of the Week:

Dietland by Sarai Walker

Dietland is very similar to Fight Club, if Project Mayhem was a feminist terrorist organization intent on highlighting the inherent misogyny rampant in our culture. The protagonist is a 300-pound woman named Plum who works for a Seventeen-like magazine, who is struggling with her weight and feeling uncomfortable with who she is. Surrounding Plum and her struggles is the terrorist actions of "Jennifer", who works to make rapists, misogynists, and all people and organizations who use women as objects pay for their own form of terrorism against women. It is compelling, albeit violent, of course. At the root, I found it to be entirely empowering as a woman to read this, and to journey with Plum on her path to loving herself and accepting her body in its entirety. I found that my own confidence in myself and my body was heightened through the reading of this book. I would be interested to see what intelligent and thoughtful men would think about this book, if they were to read it, and if they would find it as impactful for themselves.

Song of the Week:

"In the Kitchen"--Umphrey's McGee

I really got into this song my Freshman year of college. It felt pertinent. It still feels pertinent. It reminds me of the times when I was depressed, and how I always knew there was a better way to live. 

It was cold in the kitchen and the lights were low

As winter slowly stumbled home.

The air felt different and it started to show

As every breath resembled smoke.

I was short on opinions and I wanted to know

If you'd still be here tomorrow.

'cause it was cold in the kitchen and the lights were low

As winter wrapped around Chicago.

The T.V.'s on too much,

And I don't ever think enough

About the things that matter most,

And what could make me old.

And there's no argument

For wasting time much better spent

Complacently replacing a melody with smoke.

I don't expect a smile when I get home.

The blankets that I stole should keep you warm.

I hope you never find to fill the hole.

I'm further from the source to feel the floor

It was cold in the kitchen and the lights were low

As winter slowly stumbled home.

The air felt different and it started to show

As every breath resembled smoke.