Saturday, November 04, 2006

planting trees in Indianapolis

Starbucks, water, and later pizza for
how many people? 23 from Indianapolis Power and Light for starters.
Students from Eastlane Junior High and Perry Meridian Middle School,
Tree Stewards and Master Gardeners, what a wonderful
group of folks. I'm just returned from helping plant 105 trees
of 15 Indiana varieties. I've Learned lots in class, today is
a practice-hands on experience. We plants 105 trees from Kentucky Coffee to Sweet Gum to Tulip, Oaks, Paw Paw, no Maples.

Sara, Phil, Bob, Jim, Jack, Bret, Linda, PJ, busy with pitchforks, shovels,
rakes and picks, gloves on hands, planting trees.
Digging Racking shoveling mulch...Several of us had to
remove some of the layers of sweaters, sweatshirts, hats and scarves
we bundled up in early in the morning to prepare to work outside in
a mucho frio day very cold... and yet, before 11 I had stored my coat and vest
hat and scarf for later.
We broke up into groups.
Watching Jack draw the 8th grader out as well as instruct him
in handling a shovel... I learned too.
Seeing the fine humor of my group, I was put at ease and
my going off to attend other chores was noted... I was still working.
Only so many can be digging a hole... there is mulch to get and
twine to remove.
What a lovely experience.
Positive folks. thanks Keep Indianapolis Beautiful and the 100,000 trees
in ten years project.
Just finished David Brins' EARTH
and the sci-fi novel makes reference to the million tree effort
of our future, then past. lord. it felt really apropo.

We planted along Fall Creek near Allisonville, the northeast side of Indy.
A corridor from Madison County, Lawrence Township will be mighty
attractive come springtime.
good day.

I mentioned this piece of journalism today and want to share
one of my favorite human being authors, Paulo Coehlo
from his book LIKE A FLOWING RIVER: Prepared for Battle, but
with a Few Doubts

I'm wearing a strange green outfit, full of zips and made
from a very tough fabric. I have gloves on, too, in order to
avoid cuts and scratches. I'm carrying a kind of spear, almost
as fall as I am. The metal end has three prongs on one side and
a sharp point on the other.

And before me lies the object of my attack: the garden.
With the object in my hand, I start to remove the weeds
growing amongst the grass. I do this for quite a while, know-
ing that each plant I dig up will die within two days.
Suddenly, I ask myself: Am I doing the right thing?
What we call a "weed" is, in fact, an attempt at survival
by a particular species that took Nature millions of years to
create and develop. The flower was fertilized at the expense of
innumberable insects, it was transformed into seeds, the wind
scattered it over the fields round about and so--because it was
not planted in just one place, but in many--its chances of sur-
viving until next spring are that much greater. If it was con-
centrated in just one place, it would bevulnerable to being
eaten, to flood, fire and drought.
But all that effort to survive is brought up short by the
point of a spear, which mercilessly plucks the plant from the
soil.
Why am I doing this?
Someone created this garden. Idon't know who, because
when I bought the house, the garden was already here, in har-
mony with the surrounding mountains and trees. Bit its cre-
ator must have thought long and hard about whathe or she
was doing, must have carefully planted and planned (for
example, there is an avenue of tres that conceals the hut
where we keep the firewood) and tended it through countless
winters and springs. When I moved into the old mill--where I
spend a fewmonths of each year--the lawn was immaculate.
Now it is up to me to continue that work, although the philo-
sophical question remains: should I respect the work of the
creator, of the gardener, or should I accept the survival instinct
with which nature endowed this plant, which I now call a
"weed"?
I continue digging up nwanted plants and placing them
on a pile which will soon be burned. Perhaps I am giving too
much thought to things that have less to do with thought and
more to do with action. But, then, every gesture made by
a human being is sacred and full of consequences, and that
makes me think evenmore about what I am doing.
On the one hand, these plants have the right to broadcast
themselves everywhere. On the other hand, if I don't destroy
them now, they will end up choking the grass. In the New
Testament, Jesus talks about separating the wheat from the
tares.
But--with or without the support of the Bible--I am faced
by a concrete problem always faced by humanity: How far
should we interfere with nature? Issuch interference always
negative, or can it occasionally be positive?
I set aside my weapon--also known as a weeder. Each
blow means the end of life, the death of a flower that would
have bloomed in the spring--such is the arrogance of the
human being constantly trying to shape the landscape around
him. I need to give the matter more thought, because I am, at
this moment, wielding thepower of life and death. The gras
seems to besaying: "If you don't protect me that weed will
destroy me." The weed also speaks to me: "I travelled so far
to reach your garden. Why do you want to kill me?"
In the end, the Hundu text the Bhagavad-Gita comes to my
aid. I remember the answer that Krishna gives to the warrior
Arjuna, when the latter loses heart before a decisive battle,
throws down his arms, and says that it is not right to take part
in a battlethatwillculminate in the death of his brother.
Drishna says, more or less: "Do you really think you can kill
anyone? Your hand is My hand, and it was already written
that everythoing you are doing would bedone. No one kills and
no one dies."
Encouraged by this recollection, I pick up my spear again,
attack the weeds I did not invite to grow in my garden, and am
left with this morning's one lesson: when something undesir-
able grows in my soul, I ask God to give me the same courage
to mercilessly pluck it out.

smiles and hugs, Junie

Friday, November 03, 2006

llena

desde entonces... after so many full moon ceremonies
in the botanical Garden.
above the city of San Miguel de Allende
there is still
the story following.
no harm no harm
please no harm... what is that prayer
where we ask for our providence to grow, to
be propersous and healthy and not hurt anyone
tell me again that prayer
which circles the earth as protective charm
This is not what I said the other evening but close.
I was made fine with the remark by one gal who
asked me if I was a poet
she told me she liked it.
and no one in the class mentioned the simulacro remark...
my believing they are all an act
there is Shakespeare over my shoulder saying
yes dear all the world.
act your part!

es un dilema.
quizas, estoy loca

hacer 11 anos yo tenia hogar y dinero fue California.
Encontre a hombre en tina caliente del hotel de Bodega By
La Luna Llyna. El hombre tenia ojos encantadores y sinrosa brilliante y goofy.
Que lo segui a su cuarto #21.
La Luna llena nos siguio el cuarto ilumina el cuarto entero.
Yo sinter a otro mondo donde era hermoso.

donde esta me hombre?
Desde entonces...
Yo lo tengo en me prensimentos a todas horas
el cine me habla, los libros me hablan
los nubes me habla el viento me hablo y dijo
te amo

segunda semana de clase de espanol
Rafael, me maestro, su sueter abierto
yo quisi era me mano poner en su pecho

porque?

Simulacro
ese clase, estudiantes, y el maestro simulacro.

quizas estoy loca

hoy hogar, dinero, y sinter ese hombre
donde esta me hombre
hace 11 anos.