I believe farms should be owned by many together jointly. Such makes start up costs and work less daunting, and if enough people are involved, a natural market and labor force. Having read histories of antiquity, tribal living and identification was common back then, in Europe, the mid east, and africa, I found a farm to work at that was technically owned by several thousand, this entity called The Twelve Tribes, in Northern Virginia, near Harpers Ferry West Virginia, 55 miles west of Washington DC and Baltimore. They have enterprising operations and community living in many places across the U.S. and the world. The men have short pony tails and trimmed beards, and the women tend to wear dresses they make themselves. This was their biggest farm operation. They have an 80 share CSA going, and while I was there, sold hundreds crates of cucumbers, squash and zuchinis to Whole foods, and have lots of heirloom tomatoes and organic potatoes coming in which they have not begun to sell.
In another plane of reality, this was a farm, an organization, with which, we knew each other already, and directly solicited and expressed interest in my help. Whereas numerous family owned farms, failed to reach me significantly. Because something is agriculture, and good these days; and with agricultural in its underrepresented state; how can one expect the interest in farm labor to be what I would think it to be. Even though we eat food every day; our limited consciousness does not make food production the wholesome priority it would naturally be. Obviously this is the work of Satan. Satan being understood as a vast force in the universe that predates earth. Something that is all around, that we are hollow compared to; that does not want us to exceed into our natural capability and capacity.
Liberals say the underacheiving segment of agriculture, naturally popular and health as it is, is the result of the rich, and greed. But Humans are good at heart, everyone suffers this world; and it is clearly an evil force controlling the kingdoms of God and Heaven making bad happen on earth. And that is the way it has been for thousands of year. All the people have to do to engender a better world, is step out of their homes and get everyone and peacefully assemble and discuss what they want with their time and life and what to do to achieve it. I am sure such assembly would want more agrarianism and less bs in their lives. People are reasonable, given the opportunity. The rich are not stopping members communities from appealing to each other. Satan is. Earth has been transformed to be populated with human beings, the kingdom of god; That great violation of law, and the control it gives to Satan, makes it easy to bypass and ignore peaceful assemblies, abridge them with corrupt structures of local officials, and just represent a front, of civilization, imposed on those who see. And this is not done crudely.
I used to think Satan was a crude force dumber than earthlings, but it is quite alert and cognizant and perhaps technical. Relating to the universe is the next stage in challenging thinking.
And actually, I believe, the twelve tribes farm was able to accomodate me because its tribal sense was liberating, and its spiritual/religious practice of demonstrating early christian community living, made it less prone to the corrupt errors that hold back agriculture. They understand agriculture is a community thing; that it is a simple early christian and necessary existence; its integrity and respect.
Their communities include a natural organic cosmetic factory, restaurants and cafes and hostels, and other productive enterprises. They are still evolving. I am not saying they have perfected their farm craft, or worked through tribal issues, I feel all tribes must work through, to more be a tribe; indeed, at life and agricultural we are a bit at the same level; in that the conscientious person improves and learns and can’t help getting better each year. They bill themselves as the natural choice for hippies who can see through the veneer of drugs and alcohol and choose the good elements of the sixties understanding and dedicate themselves to those values. One would think its members have been tossed and stormed through the waves and seas and stupid society; as in a sense I have; with my relief on landing on the shores of such simple and humble community. But a good many of them are second generation twelve tribe. And there are degrees of getting tossed around on the shores of life.
However there is something about the stern edicts of tribal living that polishes the tribesperson so much more than the out in society person. My rough edges, perfectly calculated to cause fear and evince my own considerable fears….they were out of place here, and frankly, polished. My sense of humour, which forever gives me another throw of the dice….they didn’t get, they in a sense are a humourless people, like the russians can be, measuring status by how unfunny one can be. Their monasticism also reminds me of the orthodox. The way they and the russian orthodox stand during a service; they have the potential and practice to stand during the thrice daily prayer council meetings. Of course they raise their hands during the final prayers; which I came prepared for and had practice; no arms getting tired this time. Fool me once.
They even look slightly russian. But to go on about my sense of humour versus their lack of such; it got so they could signal to me as I started to warm up to one of my favorite racist or sexist overtones; that they were not going to laugh, it was not funny, since they failed to see the humour; and after a few tries over a few days at saying something funny at their prayer meetings, such as “Satan is Gay”, or my bit about how the only good thing about gay marriage is that when those suckers divorce, they may, just may, in their realizing the impermanence and impefection and indeed, manipulation, of marriage, I think they may seem to realize the confusing corruption of homosexuality upon them, so they end up divorcing themself from homosexuality…….there was a lot of attempt to end homosexuality….I guess it was something both of us had taken on in our independent extension of hope to the less fortunate……but those jokes just weren’t funny to them, the way they are to the street in jersey and Manhattan.
I like to think it is everyone’s isolated alianation to society that requires them to at least try to have a sense of humour; and that the twelve tribes humourlessness, so to speak, is because humour is unnecessary when you produce most of what you use (they are capable plumbers, electircians and carpenters and livestock raisers, as well), and many stores in your area carry your trademark brand of candles, or matte or organic food…..and you do favors for neighbors……I mean, that is what they want you to think.
Really, I think they are humourless because they are a tribe. And tribes are united by worshiping the same god. Their God is Yashua, pronounced Ya-Shu-ah, which is their name for Jesus, and they believe christianity is corrupted by not living communally, and believe that in the first decades of christianity there was an early christian church that lived and preached living as a community. But the difference between being part of a tribe and being alone in society, or an individual, if such can even be, is that the god renders all in the tribe the same features, whereas such is less stark, in the outside world, fraught with unfamiliar and distrustful trademarks.
Thus, because they are all controlled by their tribal god, they are collectively funny, (indiviudally, singularily, not so). Their pony tails, and bustling dressed women, and raising hands in the air and straigtforward demeanor, and fraternity like aura, that’s all slightly funny, probably designed to amuse and cheer up a more forlorn society. So they are funny as a group; like an adept band, or musicians can be, in music, or after concert gathering, like a sports team capable of running adept even tricky plays, or a well reasoned political party striking a goal; but outside of that, jokes about funny coincidences, that’s all handled tribally. Indeed, after two weeks together, each day starting with a 6am meeting, I felt we both thought we needed time apart to regroup, and restrategize, more aware of the opponent in witheach now.
For instance, when I arrived there, battered and tossed enough on the seas of life and shoals of darkness, I was wearing my “CIA” hat, one of the few funny vestiges of north carthoginia I’d picked up for five dollars at a supermarket. Its a dark blue baseball cap with loud white letters CIA up front, then in smaller letters underneath, in red, it says Christians In Action, and then to the side in smaller yellow letters, Jesus loves you.
I simply had no idea the twelve tribes think christianity such a corruption of its intent of community that they shirked an identity with it. This cap, which was so funny in a way, because it captivated evangelical christians, kept atheistic nuts away, and made certain people scared I was going to start preaching, it kept everyone so off guard, or especially on guard that I found wearing it to be amusing, if something to be learned; and I thought appropiate for two weeks of monastic living and wholesome farmwork.
Well I arrived on a hot monday afternoon, parked the car near the fields and joined them in the fields, where the gnats were so bad some say they necessitated those net hats, and certainly gnat repellent. Indeed, the gnats were such a pest as to make the weapon of short pants fairly obsolete or only ocassionally recoursed to. And it got quite hot while I was there, going into the nineties easily for a week. However, after rain, the gnats left, and they were less prevelant in the higher parts of the field, and when there was wind the gnats weren’t seen. They also decreased upon a prayer to Yashua. I set about to work, and heard people wonder if the CIA was not bugging its fields. I guess from a distance you can’t see the Christians In Action part. Then later, after parking the car near their big house, and walking up to it for the first time, I was run over to an investigated by people who had not met me yet. Again, up to now, the cap always served to bode christian pretenses. Here, it boded CIA pretenses. So the cap didn’t go over well, as I imagined, and I soon switched to the cowboy hat I’d brought.
Likewise the dog I brought didn’t go over as well as I imagined either. Usually if people object to me, they usually like my dog, Sammy, a small standard poodle, who is docile and doesn’t run away and can generally charm most of the time; Whereas at times I may say something unexpected, Sammy is always there with a smile and a grin, saying nothing, being nice. They gave me a room with a window in their basement off a hallway with its own bathroom not far from the laundry room with a door to the outside courtyard from the hall. It was a big room, big enough for two beds and a lot of space in between. But my dog was not allowed in the house.
Earlier in the year, south of virginia, this problem at a farm was solved by Sammy sleeping in the small red pick-up truck; but then it was cool at night, and now it was hot all the time, and there wasn’t another dog to roam with Sammy in an educated way; but I kept him tied near the field I worked, and off the fields back to the complex of houses and building a quarter mile away I put him in the truck while I ducked in for food and liquid. They are very big on 3 moderate square meals a day with an ample snack at 11am. My streak eating and binge eating had to go. Nor could I control what was served, nor cook it myself. So my regular routine was disrupted. Nor did they drink coffee, instead, using matte, made from Brazilian leaves of the best kind, that like coffee encompasses milk and sugar or honey and icecream and is slightly energizing, but seems to thicken your tongue and hooks you into the matte feel.
Anyway Sammy got way to adept at opening the back window of the pick up and sneaking out and even apparently into the house, so for a day or two I found him tied up to a tree or wandering outside the big house; so since the law seemed to be no dogs in the house, and not wanting to violate the rule, since following little laws is consistent with following big laws, aka, the prominent old testament laws against graven images and incence in high places, motivated the isrealite ability to follow good laws from their rabbis and religious structure.
So I made the decision to find a tent and a place to camp out on their many acred property. I had been searching this angle since my first evening. But ironically, as I was walking up their inclinded property near where the goats are in a muddy area with bramble and forest to the right, a cat started speaking to me out of the bramble. You know the way a cat can start making human sounding noises. I didn’t talk back but kept moving up the stone slate slats up the hill the stone plates slightly pathed amid the mud and bramble.
At about the level of the cat, the cat, being jealous of my relation to my dog, who was on a leash, attacked at the dog. Sammy, being the docile part who opts for respect, and barring that, getting away, slipped his collar in a jerk, and got away, untouched, but amazed, like me, at the fight this wild cat feral being had in him. The cat, realizing he could not chase Sammy stopped, and wondered what to do. Sammy saw the cat chilling out and returned cautiously a few feet, I kept striding up the hill, amazed at what fight the cat had in him, all hissing and punching claws on hind legs like muhammed ali or something; soon confidently passing the cat, and Sammy using me to stay in between the cat and him. So the cat attacked me, my bare calfs, like muhamed ali all swirling paws and claws and little cat forelegs, even leaving two piercings in me from its cat fangs. My left calf was all scratched up and bloodied and bruised in under two seconds; till realizing what was happening, I sternly no nonsensed it, and the cat backed off and I kept walking, still dazed by how they could object to a docile standard poodle, with these potentially child-injuring feral cats roamed and ruled the outskirts of their property. Later, upon inquiring, I learned there were two sets of cats, the ones that lived with the goats, who weren’t petting cats, but mousers, and meaner individual wild cats who would attack the goat cats and get beaten and made miserable by the goat cats. The irony of this was not lost on me; and it made searching for a camp site more trepidous by virtue of my experience with these crazed feral cats.
The farm is called stoneybrook farm because a stony brook runs through it at the base of the large property with houses and barns, eastward, to the lower edge of the fields to the north east of the former property, where they divert water with their home made pump to irrigate the 24 acres under production of parts. As the brook enters the first property there is a site that has been used to camp before, with an old camp fire pit, near the brook; where I eventually made myself comfortable, not even needing a tent, just a tarp and blankets and I was quite comfortable being able to use my room to keep my clothes and change after washing, and spend nights or quiet minutes of the day, by the burbling brook, which never stopped burbling, though I at times stopped hearing it, then reminded, started hearing it again. This also had the curios effect of some slight degree of holiness, as the twelve tribes believe in humility, the least is the greatest, sort of thinking, the meek sleeping outside shall inherit the earth, while I gazed at their large houses, mansions, perhaps, at night from the hammock I spent the first few nights lying on outside the forest path that led to the campspot, the chapel I called it, that worshiped the v-shaped tree, and the setting sun, when it was setting early behind the hill looming over slightly the campsite. I was afraid because of the cat, to sleep by the brook initially, and slept on a hammock under a tree so dense I did not get wet when it rained, and then grew confident enough to sleep amid the spiders, cats, and deer, and later high school graduating locals. The twelve tribes of isreal had a real camping history sleeping in rigourously proscribed tents, especially in their march from Egypt to the Holy Land, led by Moses, and his brother Aaron.
The irony, the lord moving in mysterious ways, of the rule, enabling me to sleep outside, increased my medidations, especially at night, so I got the full monastic experience of excellent medidations. The Lord moves in mysterious ways because he too, is against Satan, and Satan is very powerful, so in his degree, the lord can often only help by negating a negative, rather than affirming a positive so to speak. Satan being described as a pre earth primordial force of many parts and misery causing the kingdom of god, and willing all the bad things that happen in the world, keeping the world from reorganizing based on truth and spirituality.
You may think living in a tribe in a community with people around signed on to values, is easier than living on the outside. For one thing, once you start producing your own things, all the commericialism of the local stores look bad and feel alianating; so it is its own unique situation. That being said, where there are many people a part of a community, there are many people, many variables and parts of the equation. On one’s own or with less people, there are few people to offend, a rythm a nature easier to create, a comfort swifter to rule. I found communal living to be rife with unpleasantries that never caused a problem or were that unpleasant, but ran up against more to scrape than living by myself; particularily being on my own on a farm I was in charge of; to conforming myself and diet, to their pattern and schedule.
It took a transitional week just to get the hang of being a part of a community, providing order to my spaces and ways, getting used to no tv and not much internet; in that usually I am not around a TV, and the internet here was in a cold room airconditioned to store the crates of vegetables until moved, untill their walk-in freezer was completed at the farm stand.
The farmstand was constantly having work done on it, paving, stone work, being expanded to look like a ski lodge with outdoor stone patio for their cafe/juice bar. They own lots of construction vehicles, the farm stand is in a raised corner of the the farm field, and there is another twenty acres a mile away they’ve planted with potatoes. THey have crack accomplished construction crews who travel about the country if necessary working construction jobs for money for the tribe. While many a hippy farm has gone broke and had the electricity shut off, or been condemned by the county for taking on too many cars it can not fix; the twelve tribes are vengefully industrious.
But transitioning to sleeping outside, and waking at 5am with the sun in the long days of June then hoofing over to a house closer to the fields apart from the main property, for a discussion prayer group about the farming, and the construction, equally meted with construction crew and farm crew, with matte and farm eggs and cantelope for breakfast over the meeting there. But the second week, I made every early meeting easily, and it was easily the most pleasant time of the day, getting the head together with everyone, at a very special hour; a little like mens group breakfast, the meetings often fading into convivial conversation, then fading still into work in the field, or after I’d go back to tend my dog and bring him out to the fields with me. 6hrs of work was requested from. Some days I did much more, others a little less. I found that realism regarding the hardness of this work is required. Throughout my work life I have seen people unexpectedly burn out, and I saw it again here. Like athletes, people, players, have to be managed well. So their work effectiveness is balanced and contrasted by effectiveness at other activities, so they are forced to relax and take off so as to maximize production and minimize stress. The first saturday was a “push” day, meaning they worked on their farmstand on their sabbath. Sunday is called their first day, and is a work day, though at a slower rate. And it is nice working on weekends in context of the background of a kinder day for the world. But it is a tough one day weekend week, each day starting early, and one has to get to bed early; and I saw people burn out, people have to managed, like baseball pitchers, to maximize their effectiveness. The spirituality and prayer is vitally energizing; and people are encouraged to sleep late and not work on Saturday, though the first saturday, they all worked on the fancy farmstand from noon to 6.
Since the farm was 5 miles from the appalachian trail, both saturdays, in the late morning, I ducked down over there. It also gave me the chance to drink a few beers in the woods. As you may know, I spent 4 nights on the appalachian Trail in North Carolina and Tennessee and frankly found the dominance and lack of social skill by the thru hikers annoying. It was a little like the NBA being dominated by obnoxious athletes, so to speak. I mean what is more likely, 90 people to take 90 days off to hike the whole 2100 miles trail, or 90 different people take one day off to get on the trail a day, so 90 different people enjoy one dayon the trail each day for 90 days? Yet in north carolina I passed 50 thru hikers for every little hiker. It makes no sense; how can one take off for 90 days? wouldn’t there be correspondingly charming social skills, and an environment that didn’t pressure making many miles, but enjoying the spiritual cathedral of the place? And of course it rained and snowed and sleeted for 3 of the 4 days for which I was holed up in a shelter for over 24 hrs with many others, where the sharp hard edges wore off and were replaced by bonds and understanding—
This time as I went north 6 miles to Harpers Ferry W.VA, to the 340 bridge connecting to maryland over the potamac river I rested my feet in, and back, I passed a group of families, and a group of women, and 3 groups of two people and no thru hikers; Harpers Ferry being halfway between the start and finish in georgia and maine. This was ironic Karma. Shows how things change from state to state. And then the following saturday when I ducked out intending to go south to a trail headquarters where if it wasn’t so hazy there was a view of DC, 5.5 miles and back; there was a burrito party “trail magic” for thru-hikers off the side of the trail a hundred yards. They reminded me more of locals than thru-hikers and I thought nothing of not stopping in. However at a shelter a little south of it, talking to another day hiker I came across gnarly, more hippy rainbow like than thru-hiker people in that they were young, down on their luck, and getting by with spirit and humour rather than ease. I’d never really met the thru-hiker more interested in my stash than hiking 20 miles in a day; and they all would seem bundled in spandex like material and expensive gear and be clean for all their faults. So this was a new chapter in my veerings onto the trail.
One of the finer parts of the days on the farm were the raspberry and blue berry bushes I was encouraged to enjoy. Such anti-oxidizing treats, and moving from one taste to the next, were highlights of my day. Likewise for Sammy, he enjoyed when we’d stop and feed the goats in the pasture between the fields and the property with the houses and barns on it. Sammy was very intrugued by the goats, making me wonder if he understood they were prone to high hind legs, and seemed very strong, and strange with their goatees, and ear wiggle hello’s, bahhing, and scrutiny.
It was also nice growing a beard, or perhaps I should say, not shaving. My beards tend to look a little like the beards of that tyrant in Iran. You see, in general I always wear my little uniform of a polo shirt and khaki-like pants for a couple reasons. Having an open mind for employees, for as an organic grower I would employ all sorts of problematic people offering them work as an improvement and salve, and they in turn would sometimes cause problems with the community at large, so I took to wearing polo shirts and khakis as then I least I looked well-dressed as I tried to atone for their latest mess-up. And ever since one employee got into a gun fight with a neighbor, I have always worn a shirt with a collar. I never or rarely wear t-shirts. We are our brother’s keeper: that should at least mean dressing handsome to soothe all who complain about it.
Likewise, people like me, who have run for public office, filed papers in courts on behalf of benefitting the people, and have some of the oddest people the locals have ever seen working for him, and market and sell to the general public; behold a uniform like dress the people have seen us in before, as it allows us to get a little closer to people because people are used to us, in that costume and not apprehending new looks and ways, but a comfortable old form who may need to talk to you about something pressing.
Likewise there was no beard in my outfit. Generally I shaved well several times a week, at most having what is playfully called, “scruff”. A beard at some level is tantamount to saying, “F-you” to people, I think, at least. A beard is like being scruffy and that’s it, so be it, that’s the cost, this isn’t about you, I am busy in my beard, sort of thinking.
But here, beards were encouraged. They weren’t idolatarizing insults, but a noble look. They were smiled upon, not looked upon otherwise. So I had no problem finally letting my hair out. It was wonderful. The lack of insult it posed, and not having to shave or worry about it. It blended me into one of them. Except I had no desire to have a small pony tail. If anything, I am darned enough to require a crew cut, and gave myself a close cut right before I left for there. No pony tail for this baby.
Regarding their clothing, among the men, there is a slight effort to wear dull drab colors in humble respect of not antagonizing Satan. There is very little color among the male clothing. I wore my baggy emergency yellow-orange day glo polo shirt, and I could tell, it caused a sigh among my fellows. They did not say anything, but I clearly picked up an anti stupidly bright colored shirt sentiment; and as well, that I didn’t wear T-shirts, conflicted with their peasant of God look and attitude. I mean here we were a community, we had each other to talk to and query, everyone was polished and social, no one did drugs or was crazy, we were a community, with a different uniform, a humble disposition resting in the grace of community, not arms of the outside world—the community was responsible, not the individual, so there was no need to resort to devices to take on the outside world. I feel I didn’t floss enough for their liking. But at the same time I washed the floors and molding of my room, under the beds and the matts as well; and I had to do my own laundry and wipe down the bathroom shared by the hall. And in general did a few domestic and beautification chores, even though there was a gender divide in household contribution.
They also wore these wonderful white, maybe embroidered, headbands, diadems, to their prayer councils. They looked like the halos surrounding certain images in russian paintings. It gave them a holy looking blessing and feel. I wanted one to. It was fashion superiority completely, but I had too much pride to ask to wear one, and no one offered me one, so I took the whole slightly smug scene as what is was: A bunch of people wearing diadems around me.
I have helped three farms this year. The first was by a young farmer difficult to communicate with, and I think possibly over their head. The second was with a ninth year grower, very easy to communicate, with a small reasonable market of a 25 Box CSA. They gave me a little stipend when I left, which meant a lot to me, ontop of learning about their farm. It took just a few days with them to catch up. Their market wasn’t big enough to require me there long, and they wanted me to come back, but things happened and I never got around to it.
At the twelve tribes farm they are pursuing a large market, of over a hundred thousand, which isn’t easy; and while they don’t stagger and use a biodynamic calandar or have lots of espoma fertalizer around, they do know several things I don’t and we all had some relative experience without being very experienced. Because they offered frequent opportunity to talk about the fake world and what is true and what is false; which fundamentally, mastered, will be more valuable than money, and because they support a community, and are community owned and have many ventures going which require capital, I could not ask them for money. After two weeks there, we were caught up on the massive amounts of beets and carrots and cucumbers that required some weeding, and making the massive Tuesday harvests, which can result in 60 boxes for whole food, and a hundred boxes for the CSA, as robost shares got two boxes.
Why do I call them etruscans? Etruscans were the oldest and wisest tribe in Italy when the Romans arrived, possibly from Troy when Persia was kicking the eastern greeks off the shores and islands of Turkey. I imagine Italy wasn’t as warlike and as easily provoked as Romans, who mythologized Mars as their father, and a raped vestal virgin as their mother. And the Etruscans I believe were among the last tribes the Romans conquered and subdued, and moving to present day tuscany to get away from the Romans.
BUt they were a wise peaceful tribe; at some point mirroring Rome’s society and traditions, or vice versa. Whereas The Twelve Tribes have to deal with Washington DC around the corner. And the twelve tribes are very grateful for the religious freedom Washington offers. And whereas at some point it may be gleamed from the annals of early history, that the etruscan gods controlled the roman people, and all their war, a sacrifice benefitting the etruscans; you’d think, with the tribe’s emphasis on christian community, endeavor and enterprise, and wholesome values, maybe America sprung from them. Maybe the tribes are not conforming to the ideals of washington dc, but american society is trying to conform to the ideals of the twelve tribes. Sure the twelve tribes are in america and a corallary of American life, but aren’t the values they grip the core America seeks?
And yet while there are great expectations of this tribe; they could precipitate a more tribal christian america, at least that is what the virginians hold in their outer minds; just because they live communally, does not mean all the good and the way to procure has been mapped out and done. Their fortune are very tied up to the virginians around them, whether that is admitted or not. I mean this tribe is a collection of people, it is a form, it is not fulfilled. And the suburban, small town, rural virginia around them, is a collection of people, a form, albeit perhaps a less sensible one than a commune, but it is not fulfilled. People do not visit and know their neighbors. People have not overcome the literal walls between their houses. And this is because society is a show, a front, obscuring the kingdom of god, heaven and the universe. This contrivance is attributable to the universe as well. Likewise the tribe has not necessarily already connected as communal individuals might have done by now. The walls between the virginians, exist between the communal tribe; the friendships and workings of all community is withheld. Yet the tribes have better form, and an equation to be fulfilled. But your average suburban community has a potential equation to be fulfilled. While suburbia may not be as vitally useful to each other, as a commune requires; once the momentum is started, these deeper problems may be resolved. Thus salvation is more likely to break out in several or many places, than just one.
I think they saw me as a good person to join their tribe, and I saw them as consistent with my plans for a spiritual and agrarian renassance in America, and States. In many ways we both have outreach programs, are religious, and believe in health. Several times, my prayers to Yashua, with them, were answered. One prayer was to shine a greater light upon evil so as to better see how to deal with it.
You see, back then, I, like the twelve, very much saw everything as a battle of good vs evil, god, versus Satan. And we swiftly agreed on a working definition of Satan. Of course they believed in Yashua against Satan, where for me it was more being against Satan with whatever force worked.
And seeing Satan as forces of the universe, blowing out earth, predating earth, and having many parts, that were not all the same, as something beyond the sky we could barely see, our eyes more made for material, than the edge of our mind made for perceiving the hollowness earth seemed to exist within, penetrating the atmosphere like nitrogen, but potentially being opaque, and more solid than the material world, in that the material world passes through it, but it can not be seen to pass through the material world, this dark rembrantlike background to the purview of my eyes; all this made me see the human endeavor as a chance to work out the conflicts of the universe through our vessels and in establishing peace, establish blessings for earth. For its a little like the dinosaurs where the tyranosaurous does not let the little leaf eating dinosaur live.
Thus I initially prayed the universe or satan sees us as vessels to work out the longer problems beyond us. I did not attribute human miseries to humans. We can deal with anything; marriage, reproducing the Kingdom of God. For the problem in dealing with me, who has not been married, or reproduced successfully, comes from married, reproductives, in that marriage, is not the blessing it is made out to be, and what we reproduce is not what earth’s nature intended, being transformed by the universe, to these minutae we work out now. Marriage, in the grand scheme of things, is a contract, like the contract among the parts of the universe, that render too close, and are ultimately undesired, uncomfortable, and friction and stress causing. So the universe is under contracts that must be dissolved for peace to ripple, even though I speak not in authority. Thus each couple that must divorce, must see such as an opportunity to talk through an evil contract in the universe.
Likewise marriage reproduces the kingdom of god, for the universe, I think. Humans, though it may be difficult may deal with this phenonoma and take responsibility; whereas the universe has difficulty acknowledging what it has done on earth. Thus the problems on earth represent problems of the universe, and not human problems or issues. Ergo, the key is working the parts of the universe to a knowledge of what is here; and while that may be recognized with time, or to degrees, or intermittently, or by some parts but not others. So somehow, the root of our society as reproducing, as more responsibility than our paper jobs, is where is galvanizing any reconciliation towards the future.
But after I prayed for a light to shine on evil so we would better know what to deal with, I went to my tarp by the river and gazed up at the sky and universe beyond spending tiny specks of several colors composing the air my eyes see, and medidating on what is beyond the sky. When the trees seem to whisper and bow their heads in the wind to the universe saying…, “You think the Kingdom of God on earth is bad, the universe goes through far greater pain” And the trees bowed their heads, submissively and the wind blew and looming over earth far greater, some convex oval shadow over a percentage of earth, but far and easily larger, with pains of red at several levels in between my eyes and what I saw beyond the sky. And I saw the pain and evil which I try to see in Satan. And I realized two lasers of red light were pressing up against my eyes from the universe; presses I strive to see past and not let rule me through their touch and work, but see what they are designed to prohibit seeing.
Then days later, as I realized the intelligience here from the universe, and tried to relate to their longetivity, I realized a black solid of another type existed all around me. And while there was a force entering my mind, it was of something millions of times greater and more all around. Obviously the situation is pretty desperate; and yet there are plans. The tossed at sea require the truth of these medidations. The perceptions of the anxiety and stress of the universe, is what monastic soldiers do at these places apart from society. We are there, lying on backs, fighting or negotiating with Satan, for the benefit of earth.
The lifestyle and lack of decadence, the notion of 50 people being in bed by 10pm, that was so important to me. That last thing the tribes are is decadent. And the point is for a varied nondecadent lifestyle, they have songs and dancing, greek dancing, where all ages join together and dance in a circle, as an orchestra of assorted instruments including me on the kalimba, chime from the background; there being accomplished musicians and special songs and dances to go along with the special friday night meal.
A big tribe requires people. Hence there is the tribe and their family, or a tribe of families. There are not many single people in their numbers, though there are a few. There are many young children as well; and it is an issue whether they will remain in the tribe. A group of their construction workers arrived after the first friday to help get the farmstand ready by July 4th. A lot of money was invested in the stone work and tall ceilings and paving and getting many truck loads of fill dirt and shaping an ampitheater near the fields they plan to rent out for shows. These construction workers were spiritual and godly and socialized, readily admiting the horrors of construction work, how it is a vocation of the lesser of two evils, and not ideal at all.
In the morning meeting I also saw the opportunity to address the market and capitalism as a cover-up, and how dealing with the economy as the kingdom of god was desired, and this was fairly readily agreed to and very important to me, to see the coupling of spirituality and agriculture. Though getting whole foods to admit their market was false or not as written, or getting the locals who’d mill a bit about the farmstand looking at the honey and pies and vegetables from the fields in the lower background available, this was not actually attainable; at least it was a stated value, and could, in general circumstances, with astute perspective, be dealt with.
At the same time, I saw tribes as required to go through the marriage and family versus tribe dilemna. At some level, their families limited their tribe; and I saw tribal anthropology as necessitating the movement towards tribes away from families, in an understanding, a canopy, that was quite inviting, and regarded; even though I did not bring this up; it being something that must feel good to be presented. So I was glad to break away after two weeks, in part because their married quality, and marriage in general, can alter and squash, actual renditions and understandings, in the community at large. Married people in general, can be difficult to deal with; but this is nothing so and easily acknowledged, and being around a community, with frequent interaction, with married people, actually has helped me immeasurably, in a way. Yet I felt patched up by their lifestlyle, polished by their lack, and ready to be tossed by the seas again, without interfering in their consensus to marry. For they do not believe in premarital sex; nor do they believe in men bathing in the pond without a t-shirt, and tend to evoke old fashioned photos of city folk at the beach in striped suits from the knees to the shoulder.
Part of marketing, as you work on that trademark, that style, that stands for values your buyer knows you stand for, attracts people like you. The people of Virignia were very intrigued by the twelve tribes, and never said a bad work about them, in Loudon County Virginia. Whereas in others alleged hipper areas, such as Asheville NC, or Ithica NY, I hear, they are put down, even despised in a light way. Because those elements rebel against religion, but more so, don’t care that real estate prices are raised by active farms, nor that a curious monastic tribal people with a brand name, attract tourism.
As I looked forward each night to stare at the universe and try to perceive through the material world, as best I can, after some hard days of work, and some afflictions too, of gnat bites, cat scratches, and fertalizer fumes…..they were discussing why one book in the testament allows certain sorts of food, but not others, and flipping through bible finding quotes over lunch in their veranda….it’s a lot like a fraternity in that sense, with nice-furnitured rooms, and porches and degrees of social skill…..I looked in Jeremiah and saw the Lord condemming his people for worshiping the Queen of Heaven.
Looking at the air and the sky, with Venus out, I realized the planets have consciousness and are in the unique position of being for the solar system and earth, but a part of the universe, and with their own complex. Venus, which I think obviously is the Queen of Heaven, seemed to have her own displeasure, and concerns, and even to stand in the way of Yashua’s doing to rescue the universe and save Satan, which is really what it is all about, if you are monk type. Venus or The Queen of Heaven, is angry being so hot on one side so much, and maybe also not bringing life out of her consciousness; and didn’t want things to go the way Yashua did. Her way would be to control all the women to admit they are out of control; because women are a bit out of control, that assertion at some level is hard to argue with. And here in Virgninia, with all those failed marrages and kids brought into the world, maybe more so than ever. Because in general, by my gallic code, men fear each other, but women don’t fear men because men who fear are feared. Yet around Virginia, the women were more uptight, and instead of enjoying my style for the threat it poses to society as it is, and feeling protected, they like get nervous and are uncool.
BUt the question remains, if one good god in the universe wants to get things done a certain way, and another goddess stands in the way wanting to do things her way, do they work together? Can we acknowledge other powers and still worship Yashua, the tribe’s master? The same way I feel the universe in me, I felt the concern of Venus in me. Somehow all the objectification and unathleticism of women, a serious topic a free society would have reconciled and knowingly dealt with by now, is a sacrifice for Venus. The same way whites have trouble compounding the significance of race, Venus has a hard time understanding how we are different colors. The way Venus is driven so by her heat, so those flames have been corresponded to our women; for the point of one day utilizing venus in the freedom of earth and the universe we may attain.
Likewise the curious curio of catholiscism, whereby rather than the terminology and teachings and applications of gospel and bible towards salvation in life; all that christian reform, is travested by the corruption, which comes with Paul in the section after the bible, that spells forgiveness for sin from a death that did not even happen if we go by the evidence of easter…I mean I dont want anyone to die for me, nor do I feel it would help me…indeed it is the turn off to religion through catholicism that promulgated the reformation….yet that corruption and confusion, is a sacrifice to Mars, which once had life and went extinct, in sacrifice for less molestation and extinction of earth. Thus the greatest corruptions of the west seem grounded in the intent and desire to work with forces of the universe.
This is another dissatisfaction with tribe, that may have necessitated our retreat and regrouping: They believe Yashua, the only son of God, died for them, and I believe Yashua is of the god of earth and did not die for us at all, indeed the market reality is that there is a lot of transformation of the natural human; everyone died; its just the universe, not some metaphysic involving heaven, seems to require the lies about this, and founding government and society based on truth, an issue to work out lying in an understanding of what happened to everyone. The spirit comes before the law; the law does not create the spirit. While a great deal of prayer and democratic council, overlaps with my beliefs and values, this, and the marriage, I believe tribes are destined to work out, and the division according to gender, are three issues I have. If I can first add onto the subject of marriage that marriage, in so far as it is induced, can kilter the reasoning. Because thinking straight and reasonably, may be perceived by the institution of marriage to to threaten the pressure to marry, which is the pressure to reproduce disguising marriage as love. Thus reasonable work relations can be impaired by marriage. Marriage and family definitely can conflict with tribe and work.
The last here is that having spent a lot of times in the fields and a lot of time cooking and cleaning; women can be better than men in the field, and require less supervision, and be capable of supervision; and that it is therepeutically important for men to cook and clean for everyone as well. I believe the farm would be better served by all there being required at least one hour a day in the fields, to become stronger, and that the few men working, be rotated into the cooking that feeds all, and to choose that menu. Indeed, a community farm shouldn’t rely on stalwarts for the work, but everyone getting stronger and used to contributing farmwork. I felt some despair from not enough people being into working in the fields, and some stifling from a consistent relegation to domestic activities. That is oposite to my understanding that everyone needs farmwork.
Maybe the name of the state virginia, causes the domination of venus. To date though, women haven’t started admitting they are out of control, though maybe, with proper worship of the queen of heaven they will. But if venus is a god, so are those who represent and see for earth. Earth is a god, and those prescient a part of it, and it is not so bad a god at all; if it could be unfurled and actually make sense enough of the universe to negotiate with it effectively.
While the terror of the universe, was at times on my mind, causing squinting fascination, one can’t think of that always. The yuppies of Louden county were more polished, and seemed more capable of self-defense–of course there were more people associated with the defense industry than I was used to: But that’s the federal government for you. As well as the sense that they were better than their New York City Counterparts: almost like a subconscious pride and attack upon NYC, to be better than it, it’s more multicultural and media rifed scene. This was demonstrated by their greater love for organics, than the NYC market I knew. The DC market had more organic pride. Maybe because of the ideals of government. Certainly the ideals of government, which are ethics themself, are greater than the ideas of the sleazy irresponsible absent and sensationalism media all centered so stupidly serious in nyc.
However, it was difficult procuring a decent cup coffee out there near purcellville. The twelve tribes didn’t drink it much, choosing Mate, nor did the local store in Hillsboro have adequate coffee; so one had to go to purcellville to have the cup of coffee that makes everything ok.
The women though, were ridiculously vulnerable. Really, all these disheveled recently divorced women in their thirties coming out of the years of confinement, and in some awkward vulnerable state; which I never saw in nyc/nj. Most of the women I know are strong particularily not vulnerable women- if perhaps tending to relationships as a security blanket. And Venus would taunt me everytime I saw one. And I’d like “what the heck is going on? Why are all the women I pass, (in my search for coffee, say) like that?”
And the blacks, I came across the phenonoma I shall describe as the obama black. This is a black engaged in some enjoyable activity seeming as fine as Obama. I had never seen them before. I never knew they existed. All the blacks I’d ever seen recently have been disapointed with Obama precisely because he acts like there is no meaningful problem in minority communities. I am associated with being able to ask a black a question anytime: particularily if I really do have a question about something black, or mixed, or in general, if genuinely confused sometimes, they feel obligated to help out and I have no problem with that kind tendency. But these obama blacks, one can’t just make a time-out sign and interrupt the book they are reading, or whatever enjoyable activity they are engaged in.
The monastic experience was very uplifting and beneficial. When the construction workers showed up to develope their farmstand/cafe and outdoor stage; there was the party of the agriculturalists and the party of the construction workers, and we purposely came together every morning at 6am to discuss the upcoming day. And were equal regarding spiritual conversation in the evening around dinner I believe. It’s just the construction trade is more morally ambiguous, but these people would readily acknowledge that.
Two more points; I felt the grips of both good and evil hiking the appalachian trail; and realized the federal constitution was responsible for slavery and not the southern states. If the constitution allowed slavery, then it must take responsibility for it.
And there is something about the monastic satan-fighting life that has a lot of fear to it. One tries to be fearful so as to have none of the nonsense that interferes with the fight against Satan. And yet there is fear to say what is in the heart. So the point is to overcome fear; but that might lead to more nonsense. I mean they feared bright clothing, bright yellow shirts; and they excercised very little inhibiting nonsense; and yet could they truly liberate themselves with speech. The spectrum between fear and liberation is not a perfect one, by any stretch. And yet those are two such primal qualities. The idea of a beard is not to have fun, but be able to talk about anything, particularily difficult items.
I also like the way the tribe would kill a chicken once or twice a week and shred it up and add to their salads from the fields. I thought it was superior tasting chicken in a superior form, in salad. But I later learn than they slaughter not chickens, but old hens and old roosters, which I’ve always wondered how tasted, and that that kind of meat, is bested peeled into stringy rope lengths and eaten that way.
The hope is to be sensible enough to polish down society to the kingdom of god and powerful community understandings. And still have individually competitive spiritual qualities about. That would be the praxis to expanding the number of farms owned by communities, by tens of thousands of people; thus interlocking a market, and labor potential, and exposing urban neighborhoods and suburban towns to the vitality and harmony and necessity of agriculture.
I believe local officials abridge peaceful assembly and that it is logical and natural, a civil right, for localities to make decisions together in peaceful assemblies; I am mystified why this format, as it exists in New England, does not question the educational system and come up with a more sensible economy. Actually that is a fascinating question. Why does the practice of peaceful assembly in New England fail to address the glaring issue of the kingdom of god? Because much of the world exists on paper. In that sense it is two dimensional and controlled by the universe. Thus while New England’s quorums of 236 may demonstrate local propiety; the manifestation of the law goes no further than that: it is so easy to control. Satan predates the universe and is responsible for the bad of this front of western civilization.