Rebalanced cycles for gleaning meaning (featuring home as ground, outdoors as church, and proper pilgrimages)

I am writing from the ultracomfy loveseat couch on the front porch of Skyland House as a sultry pre-summer day crests. Skyland House is my new home, at least for the next three months, and potentially, longer. It’s a spacious home shared by 4 (looking for a 5th!) intentional, creative, marvelous women (IMHO). Located in the Northeast Park Hill neighborhood of Denver, this place happens to be two blocks from where my brother Nate lives, with whom I’m close. Did I mention this place is also host to creative community events like drumming circles, collaging, music nights and more?

Instead of continuing with the radical truck living experiment, I’ve chosen instead to stop struggling and wrap the arms of mutual aid community around me again.

The same time I made the decision (with Skyland House’s blessing) to move in here, within a day or two I was also OUT, finally, after a hard month of May! I was staying at campsites and lounging and hiking in the San Luis National Forest, with my pal Stephen. That three day period was a sweet elixir. I saw immediately how appropriate my truck camper is for going outdoors–not for staying in the city! By the end of those three holy days I had a vision for how I could generate a “mutual medicine offering” by playing “host and usher” to people’s intentional/mindful experiences going outdoors. Not for any photo-op worthy natural sight or physical challenge, but for unbridled communion. Natural environments abound with self-renewing systems, something I wrote about on the snow hut trip in late February this year that strongly inspired me to transition to a dedicated “mobile lifestyle”. Mainly, so I can steep in shared wildness and “take my church” as often as I needed.

But now, having a home base, “taking my church” outdoors is only that much more viable. The only added strain is the cost of maintaining both, but otherwise, it makes perfect sense. I made the decision to move in here after spending about 24 hours solid here at the end of May, thoughtfully feeling it out. Mostly, to ensure that it felt right. And it did, and it still does. It feels lovely to be here, and I am less stressed, less fragmented. Still mourning, still confused by what life holds next for me. But stable, healthier. And that’s not to be underrated.

Yesterday after a long walk around a new park in development (as well as a jaunt around the neighborhood’s beloved standby small park, Skyland Park), I penned these words. In skimming my old blog posts later that same night (and coincidentally), I found an unexpected resonance between these words and this post: Righting Thinking. It’s perhaps not all that surprising, given how ideas tend to float around in mind, and work on ya. Nor, that mild physical connection and activity outdoors is enough to gently surface our natural cores, either.

To characterize my writing, I sometimes feel like I’m writing about the same handful of themes, iterating them over and over and over, variating slightly, like a labor of love or a computer program processing. Still they are present with me. Still I feel they need to get out there. Still I am compelled and complying to speak them.

This is what I wrote after last night’s walk.

Humans cause genocide.
From a byproduct of our judgment.
We make such choices from animalist mammalian survival strategies.

I wish evolution was and will be
the sole – (and holy) – arbiter
of what is to live and die.
I wish that humans would participate cooperatively with evolution
by consciously, intentionally, deliberately
what stays. And what gets composted.
Like an offering, we present our best
and the great mother Process
takes care of the rest.

We need to know, to survive,
all about the information & ways
we are not studied in.

We are cluttered with crap,
fixated on fabrications,
that will not serve our actual survival.

Some humans may survive, sure.
But will their lives be MEANINGFUL?

We are entering a bottleneck
wherein we must investigate
the source of meaning,
the means of meaning making.
This which was supposed to advantage us,
this capacity of humans.

But our excessive overgrowth of idiot information
will choke us out,
when evolution again becomes
the arbiter of our fate.

What if we could turn around,
and deliberately maximize meaningfulness
through our very presences
and in our sacred legacies?