Of Memoirs

Spicy Korean Pickle!

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 05:53:00 +0000

Sandor Ellix Katz style.

I have a summer farmshare with Riverland Farm in Sunderland, MA, and over the course of a few weeks, I've acquired such a stash of cabbage. Two honking napas, one that I made just a regular sauerkraut from. And the other, along with two purple cabbage heads, KIMCHI! I turned to our dear friend who wrote Wild Fermentation for help.

I made a brine of salt water for the chopped cabbage and diced carrots and daikon radish to soak in overnight. I then chopped up onions and garlic, one Hot Wax pepper and one Jalapeno pepper, cayenne powder, and grated ginger. Pouring off the brine, I mixed the vegetables and spice melody. Packed into sterilized jars, using the brine to help raise the water level. Fermentation will take about 1 week. According to the Korean Food Research Institute, the average Korean eats about a quarter pound of kimchi every day. I don't imagine I'll be consuming it that readily, so hopefully it'll last for about half a year or more. Kudos for food preservation.

Womb Connection Haiku

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 04:48:00 +0000

Daucus Carota.
A Woman's Aid When In Need,
Sacred Power Plant.

Anahata Calling

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 03:19:00 +0000

I was recently told by one of my wise, Shaman-inspiring friends that I needed to hold my heart center more openly and highly. He reminded me of my goddess nature. I just then within the following week came across this captivating semi-precious emerald stone, shaped somewhat like a heart. It was perfect for me in what I was interested in reflecting, as the heart chakra is green. I've since created it into a beautiful necklace piece. It is artfully caged in by coiling and spiraling gold wire, hanging by gorgeous beads over my heart.

I don't know how I did this.

This is a reminder for me to radiate compassion and love through my bursting Anahata to all of creation.

Sustainability

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 01:21:00 +0000

Sustainability is the capacity to withstand prosperity and sustenance through any of the opposing forces that may interfere with the ability of a particular state or condition to persist. It is the prolonged nourishment of any resource as to not cause permanent depletion of that resource. In popular context, sustainability is usually spoken of in reference to biological, human, and ecological systems. It governs the success of any notion, practice, or constant and is not only a way of life, but truly the only way to be, because literally without sustainability, nothing would be an absolute truth and nothing would continue to be. God prevails, love prevails, and the universe would prevail without us here, but we may live in a sustainable manner as to be kind and thoughtful stewards to promote fairness and equality for all beings.

The Bane of My Existence

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Sat, 30 May 2009 04:41:00 +0000

4th attempt pending...

I sure hope not.

Rainbow Fish

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Fri, 29 May 2009 02:37:00 +0000

"Twelve fish swim happily around the border of this mandala, a reference to the yearly turning of the cycle of time - slowed for a moment during Crystallization."

I acquired this beautiful design from a mandala coloring book. Flipping through, I knew this one was mine, as I thought instantly, "Oh!... I'm an Aquarius!... This is perfect." It took a while for me to finish (the unfinished art sitting on my desk for months, 1/8 completed). I did it by adding light color blending pastel chalk. My inspiration for it is from a well-know children's story, "The Rainbow Fish", a precious favorite of mine.

Treasure Trip

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Sat, 23 May 2009 02:54:00 +0000

Earlier this year, I scored this book at the Leverett Dump. A pocket-sized golden guide, written in 1976 by the famous Richard Evans Schultes (!!!) himself (the father of Ethnobotany), of hallucinogenic plants! In perfect condition, too. And now, this book is out of print. You could never find something like this nowadays... I snagged it with new-found glory. And I knew that it would be worth a lot of money. I checked a while back on Amazon, and the first going price for it was above $200!...

Psychedelic Mushrooms:

Cannabis:

Peyote:

Ayahuasca:

Amazing.

My Lifelong Partner

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 06:24:00 +0000

I want a man who:

will lift me over his shoulder to carry me upside down by the back of my thighs.

is gorgeous, inside and out.

loves himself, loves god, loves animals, loves children, loves people, and loves the Earth.

wishes to construct his own dwelling.

honors me for not only all of my beauty but for all of my flaws.

is undoubtedly receptive to my sweetness, compassion, and giving/loving nature.

will grow with me; transform with me.

sees the depth in my eyes.

won't be afraid to fall in love with me.

has loved and lost before, with excruciating heartbreak.

holds the male counterpart of this female body.

will bless me with precious children, walking with me every step of the way through pregnancy, childbirth, and parenthood.

will always hold me as close as he did the first time.

would theoretically look good without a beard if it came down to it.

works with his hands.

is rational, mature, wise, and intelligent.

has a beautiful, unique last name.

wouldn't mind wooing me; chasing me.

would smile reading this.

I cannot believe you are actually out there. That you actually exist somewhere. You're just living your life, not really knowing me, but I know that you know me, deep down. You know that I exist, you feel this soul, you long for this love and our future. I look forward to meeting you, my one. Beauty to you on this path.

Luna Love

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Sun, 18 Jan 2009 03:43:00 +0000

I went outside for a cigarette of tobacco with sage and knelt down against the backdoor of my house on the side steps. I looked out to the dark, cloudy sky and saw this bright beam of white light breaching right out of the clouds, following its way down to the treetops underneath it. There appeared to be a white dot through the trees, it started growing and I swear, I thought the end of the world was nearing. I was truly waiting for the famous white horse, and I was getting ready to go. I saw that the white dot was multiplying, into a ring, and it looked as though there was a fire circle beginning to emerge. The hills were dancing. At first I thought this was a forest fire, but my imagination led me to believe there was some sort of ceremony of the gods going on. Then, the ring arose, becoming clear that it was actually the moon, miss lady luna - solid, strong, and pearly white. She was illuminous, rising quickly, and was she ever so powerful. She took the sky and the clouds with her. Birthing out of fire, eastward, over the sun. I sent my prayers to her as she traveled onward high.

Warren Wrath

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Fri, 26 Dec 2008 15:26:00 +0000

He's a source of indistinguishable fury. Choose open or closed flame, you just never know. A spark is always there, ready to bellow.

Unleashing the extreme is like standing under icicles. They hang over my head, ready to strike at any moment. You just never know. Ready to leave their puncturing wounds. I can't talk to them. Make sense of them. They are frozen, stiff, festering his core of anger, resentment, and self-hatred.

Too bad his raging fire won't melt the icicles.

Spending all of these years trying to become immune to it, and eventually, all he'll be hurting is himself.

Dark, despairing energy. The kind that sticks to the walls of this house.

Medicinal Bioprospecting

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Fri, 05 Dec 2008 10:13:00 +0000

An informal and simple paper I wrote (not the best example of my formal writing ability), mostly in one sitting, for my 1-credit Ethnobotany class on the commercialization of traditional medicine:

The Pros and Cons of Medicinal Bioprospecting under Environmental, Social, Economic, and Health Perspectives
Medicinal bioprospecting is the act of locating, collecting, and deriving genetic material from the sacred plants of indigenous communities for the use and profit of most often, commercialized pharmaceuticals. This has environmental, social, economic, and health implications, both advantageous and harmful.

The lands in which plants are taken from for medicinal bioprospecting are usually rich in biodiversity; therefore, one must take into serious consideration the issues in dealing with sustainability and environmental justice in relation to the acquisition of such. In order to successfully collect a plant for medicinal bioprospecting, the harvest must be bountiful in its yield and the plant must be suitable for prompt regrowth. If not so, the harvester would be deemed a raider, raping the Earth surrounding the indigenous community, a completely unsustainable and environmentally unjust action. One must be ethical and respectful in wildcrafting their medicine, and without getting into the genetic engineering controversy, it may be an environmentally conscious option to synthesize and replicate the active compounds in a laboratory, so that the majority of the actual, live plant would be undisturbed.

The social impacts of medicinal bioprospecting on indigenous communities are largely significant and multi-faceted. The reapers of the act must ensure an equitable sharing of benefits linked to the utilization of the population’s native plants in order to be socially just. This can include benefits ranging from forms of direct and/or indirect payment, capacity building such as the introducing of schools and other public facilities/services into the community, sharing of research, providing work, endorsing labor rights, etc. Not only must they engage in fair treatment of the indigenous community and their resources by taking the least and giving back the most, they must show the native population due respect and support of the aboriginal, ancient knowledge that they hold within. If there is only selfish gain within this endeavor of medicinal bioprospecting, with no intent of a fair trade, the situation for the indigenous community is in social disdain and subject to biopiracy. It is also questionable on the societal ownership of these native, plant-based medicines. Ownership rights of national governments versus the ownership of local communities versus the humanistic approach that humankind is the sole proprietor of all biodiversity, are open to argument and controversy.

There is a lot of economic gain achieved through the end product of medicinal bioprospecting, as countries such as the United States engaging in the act, are driven by profitable and capitalistic values to sell and market the commercialization. Unfortunately and often enough, greed is the counterpart to this goal of monetary success. What could be coined an “herbal thanksgiving” not with the pilgrims and Native Americans, but with the money-driven exploitation and commercialization of these sacred plants, turning them not into non-invasive, natural products, but into harmful Western medicines. Hence, it is important that the countries involved in medicinal bioprospecting remember where and how they obtained, with hopefully good intentions, the main ingredients of these products and point a great percentage of their economic triumphs to the indigenous communities that deserve it.

Fortunately, the results of medicinal bioprospecting often have a positive effect in public health and medicine. The plants often provide great cures to many ailments and diseases, such as the Rosy Periwinkle’s abet in curing diabetes, malaria, Hodgkin’s disease, and leukemia. Many people are assisted with these findings, as utilitarian philosophy is at the heart of medicinal bioprospecting in reference to health care. It is also vital that the ones doing the hands-on work in medicinal bioprospecting are aware of any concentrations of toxins or pollutants at the sites of harvest with the run-through of safety research testing as to not pass the potential health hazards onto the public. Also, there must be ample research and experimentation before marketing and selling a “drug” to the public sphere, as contamination and an outburst of disease would be detrimental effects to public health. Also must be measured is the mortality of a synthesized Western medicine.

As discussed throughout this writing, medicinal bioprospecting poses both its advantages and pitfalls in environmental, social, economic, and health perspectives. As ethnobotanists around the world discover exciting new medicinal plants and healing herbs, they must live by and promote these provisions of ethical standards to ensure justice within all four angles of vision considered.

Henry David Thoreau, Walden, 1854

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 05:55:00 +0000

"There is some of the same fitness in a man's building of his own house that there is in a bird's building of its own nest. Who knows but if men constructed their dwelling, with their own hands, and provided food for themselves and families simply and honestly enough, the poetic faculty would be universally developed, as birds universally sing when they are so engaged? But alas! We do like cowbirds and cuckoos, which lay their eggs in nests which others birds have built."

Maa

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 06:42:00 +0000

Shakti! I call to the shakti FORCE, ENERGY, STRENGTH, and child-bearing hips! Ah!!!... blessed oh me oh my, we are but made of steel, us women. Like the Hindu goddess Durga, capable of enduring the greatest of all hardships and pain! We are graceful! We are natural, raw beauty! We are divine power! We are nurturers, lovers, peaceful warriors, and mothers - grandmothers! We kindle and we give. We are healers. And herbalists.

Mmm, mama...

We are Earth. The moon. The ladybug. Wise. We are each all the foam-arisen Aphrodite. Swans. We are Rosie the Riveter saying, "We are doing it!" or, "We did do it!" instead of, "We can do it!".

A Beautiful Morning

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Sun, 09 Nov 2008 17:51:00 +0000

The winding path of life leads me to gifts blessed by the universe. Experiences taken, lessons learned; embrace it all. Run with the wind, the ever-changing current. I can handle it all. Bring on the laughs, the joys, the tears... the sorrow. I am stronger than pain and suffering.

Ah, Astarte Farm, tomato haven. It was my last stop of the farm-hopping train. Cool mornings and scorching days. An August of a beat-up straw hat on its way out, a more-than-ever sun-kissed face, dirt-encrusted pores (permanent summer stamp)... oh an August so simply wonderful. A September, October, and November of crisp, autumn air and cloudy skies. My work for now has ceased, but the love I bred will cycle through the fertility of the soil for seasons to come.

What a breathtaking view that morning. A horizon so concentrated with blissful peace and stillness. Bond with the light, and keep chins up. Always look up and ahead. Time has precious keepings. Love.

Guitars, Hairy Armpits, and Snakes

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Sun, 09 Nov 2008 02:33:00 +0000

My grandmother's emblem. Thank you, Nanny.

A natural.

Women with body hair are sexy, and body hair on women is sexy.

"Expanding... experimenting... growing... confident... beauty."

How To Make Raspberry Jam

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Sun, 26 Oct 2008 20:02:00 +0000

It was my Sunday harvest at the garden, and I was:
less than a farmer,
more than a passer-by,
...
mingling amongst vibrant, red berries, gathering in glass, avoiding the sting.

Ethically self-harvest local & organic berries, leaving some for others. Take of which that is right, with thankfulness and gratitude for the Earth, as she so willingly shares her bounty. If it is cold, wear a coat, if it is too sunny, wear a hat.

Gather twice as much in berry form that you would like to make, as the mass of the berries divides in half when they're mashed. 1 quart = 4 cups; gather 8 cups of berries if you'd like to make 1 quart of jam.

Keep fresh.

Mash the berries, and warm the same amount of granulated sugar in the oven at 250 degrees fahrenheit for about 15 minutes.

Boil hard the mashed berries for 1 minute, mix in sugar, and return to a full boil. Stir until gel - 5+ minutes without added pectin.

Smile when you eat or prepare. The homecraft warms your heart.

Epiphysis Cerebri

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 23:20:00 +0000

She is the vision of metaphysical communication. Indigo energy field, with blasts of rainbow light inside those eyes. Flowing from her base, prevalent up and through her throat, forehead, crown. Seat of the soul, the pineal gland knows. The eye watches all and sees... vibrations. It is her identity. With many to choose. Mandala as offering. What will she project? Give. What will forthcome, now that she holds sight?

In Ruins

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Mon, 06 Oct 2008 05:19:00 +0000

I am ridden. This happens, why, time after time again? Because I trust and love, which are worthwhile things in exchange for pain in the end. Crippling heartbreak. Helplessness. Death. Our essences joining as overlapping circles, creating a pointed oval of our togetherness, of which that is rigid in shape now, to be faded into dark as it dies a slow one.

A real man, may I ever meet one? Please? Just spare me. A real man to hear my stories. To embrace my flaws as stepping stones to our shared journey of understanding, compassion, partnership, and trust. I'm growing for you, so that we may grow together. I just want to be a good woman. I am a good woman.

I've been raped. A ragdoll, strewn across the ground with the blood spattered on my face of getting my heart thrown back at me. Thanks, hope you had fun with it. It's not even in my reach.

I rise above, stronger than this lifeless, ragdoll body. I am strength. I am power. I am wisdom. I am love. Love to go around, projected to all corners and infinite spaces of the universe. The mother, constantly reproducing. Breeding light. Breeding peace.

In ruins, this love. In ruins, I fall, even in the highest. Death potion, freezing ponds, cutting, self-destruction. Oh, but I'm beyond all that. I'm better than this all, but what must one succumb to if not reconciliation? To be in control, to hurt the other?... oh, what a perpetual cycle.

Drained, of all energy. Of all tears. Drained, it leaks into my waking life. End it, all. When will I be over this one?

"to you i wish the sun, infinite even when obscured,
the moon, cooling on the warmest of nights,
the heavens, rooted in today,
earth, the manifest transcends the imminent"
-from one who once loved me

My Bianchi

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Thu, 18 Sep 2008 04:14:00 +0000

It was like breaking up with a boyfriend. The wrong man. It was for the both of us. How it pains me to end the functioning relationship we had. Yes, it was hard to let you go, my dear Huffy, as you've gotten me through so much. In all your rust and dirt, you've saved my ass on many occasion. And you just kept on truckin'.

How I've come to wonder, was I forcing you? I hate to retire you in the storage unit, as I know that's not what you want, and yes, it breaks my heart too. I know all you want is to be the one. To suit my needs. Oh, it was tough love. But you were putting our lives in danger.

The Bianchi treats me right; he's more fit, and he gets me to where I need to go - faster, easier, safer, and farther... than you ever could. I wish I could fix you. I wish I could work you out. Smooth out your edges, but you'll never change. Wait around; we'll be together for a long time. But you won't have to watch the love affair. Ignorance is bliss.

Oh Bianchi... let's fly over mountains together.
Mmm, my Italian stallion...

Mountain Laurel Summer

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 03:39:00 +0000

It was a June of Mountain Laurel; white bushes sprouted everywhere. Camouflaged as ghosts, waiting with their deer and fairies, to spook the crescendoing dust. Amherst hill towns, Shutesbury dirt hill roads - Market Hill, Sand Hill, Baker, and Schoolhouse. Hippie-ville.

The July Mountain Laurel brown, crusted over, dead. Juniper Hill Farm died with it.

that's C-R-I-S-T-I-E

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Fri, 20 Jun 2008 02:46:00 +0000

... not "Christie",
"Christi",
"Christy",
"Cristi",
"Cristy",
"Khristie",
"Khristi",
"Khristy",
"Kristie",
"Kristi",
OR
"Kristy".

Prologue

craelink@gmail.com (aquaricris) — Sat, 31 May 2008 05:32:00 +0000

It's hard to make up for lost time; I should have started this years ago. I have so many pictures, so many thoughts, so many events, happenings, and forget-me-nots that should have made it here. But alas, they will just have to find their course somehow, in the natural scheme of things. At least they're safely tucked away in my memories (and journal pages), if not the chance.