The mission of H.O.P.E. is to turn the prow of our entropyship, the Earth, back upstream so that Earth's evolving consciousness may explore the headwaters of the Universe for billions of years to come. The work of H.O.P.E. is to make visible the larger relationships we live within - relationships that inspire visions of wonder and works of hope.

Patience
Impatience is underestimating germination time. I came up with that aphorism twenty years ago during my second year of teaching when I began noticing kids making perceptive comments that could be directly linked to learning experiences they had had the previous year. Oftentimes, the learning experiences had been ones that I had been assuming had not produced the kind of learning I was hoping for because there is no obvious immediate result. But a year later, a student makes a profound observation rooted in that experience. I went hiking in the redwoods last week. A related aphorism about patience rose to mind. Patience is not passive acceptance. Passivity is not planting the seeds. Patience is planting the seeds.

The green fire
This summer we went to the movies. The previews are filled with explosions of billowing orange. We do love to stare at exploding orange. I had this image of movie theaters as temples where we go worship the god of orange fire. I tend to avoid such movies because they usually communicate a message that spectacular, fiery destruction is the culminating step in the triumph of good. Which got me mulling about the constructive opposite of orange fire which led to the phrase of the god (or goddess) of green anti-fire.

Several images derive from this phrase. Foremost is wondering what would the growth of a jungle or kelp forest or grassland look like if it could be filmed in hyper fast motion? Would it look like green flames rising? Scientifically, fire is the consumptive oxidation of fuel, usually biomass. The green anti-fire is the photosynthetic driven creation of that biomass in the first place, a far more energetic process but spread over far longer time so as to become almost invisible. Anti-fire doesn't quite capture the image because I like the visual image of green growth rising like a fire but its a different kind of fire developing in a different direction. Instead of leaving ashes in its wake, it leaves tree trunks and soil and animals.

In the movies, the bright orange is richly intertwined with black smoke. The contrast with the black smoke makes the orange more glowing (like Halloween). That got me wondering what kind of smoke the green anti-fire gives off. It gives off a plume of blue smoke (oxygen) that billows tens of miles into the sky, filling the lower atmosphere with its haze. So, look at the world as burning in reverse with a green fire that gives off a blue smoke.

Trail lessons
We usually think of "learning" as knowledge acquired through words, spoken or written. But learning comes in many forms. One category of my learning I call "trail lessons." These lessons were learned by my body from walking. The more one walks, the more these lessons become part of one. If one is full of energy and unburdened, one's steps can dance willy-nilly wherever. But if I am carrying a heavy load or I am nearing the end of a long day, then I begin paying attention to trying to conserve energy with every step. One of the first examples is stepping over a fallen log rather than stepping up onto it (raising one's body and pack up several feet) and then stepping down onto the other side. A second parallel but opposite example happens when crossing a small gully. My body learns to step across the very bottom of the gully rather than stepping on the bottom and lowering my weight a few unnecessary inches. Don't gain elevation unnecessarily. Don't lose elevation unnecessarily. The placement of feet was my first teacher of this lesson.

I remember one of my first backpack trips. I was in the Boy Scouts and my pack felt heavy and the trail up to a mountain meadow seemed so long. I was the tired kid at the back of the line wanting to stop for whatever excuse seemed plausible. I can remember rejoicing each time the trail went downhill because it gave me a chance to rest. I yearned for downhill stretches. I lacked the big picture. Because, if one is going to hike uphill to a certain place, then the most efficient way to do it is with a steady grade. Any downhill stretch means the trail will have to make it up again sometime soon. That stretch of elevation gain will have to be climbed twice. The distance consumed in dropping down and climbing back up means that there is less remaining mileage to make the remaining climb so the trail ahead must be steeper as a result of that downhill stretch. I learn to appreciate a trail that keeps a steady grade and respect its makers. Walking develops this image of an effort larger than the immediate moment. Now, if a faint trail forks, I will tend to take the branch that goes uphill.

A different example of learning about long term - short term: Mountain mornings are often cold and crisp. I wear a hat and warm jacket as I pack camp. When everything is packed, I sling on the pack and start hiking. Within five minutes, my body is sweating and uncomfortable. I have to stop (letting the muscles cool down again), take off my pack, open it up, take off my coat and hat, pack them away, close up the pack, put it back on, and start hiking again. Eventually I learned to do it differently. I pack my pack but leave it open. When I am ready to start hiking, the jacket and hat come off and go into the pack. I feel cold though in an exhilarated way. It is bearable because I know that I will be warm shortly. Besides, the touch of cold gets the body starting to pump blood more vigorously. The pack is closed and put on. A minute after the coat is off, I am hiking and within a minute of that, the chill is gone. The warm up proceeds smoothly and I am off on a vigorous morning with no need to stop and repack the pack. The difference between these two beginnings is analogous to short term-long term. In the second approach, I initiate a minute of discomfort in order to avoid a much greater bother in the future. This awareness transforms what was formerly experienced as discomfort into exhilaration. On the other hand, the first approach puts off dealing with the bigger picture for short term warmth. As a consequence, I end up expending far more energy eventually.

Drowning in nature
I woke up feeling a little down. I went walking down to the streambed where my willow cuttings from 5 years ago are good size and the monarch caterpillars are crawling on the milkweed and a family of birds was fussing through an oak and I felt centered again. It reminded me of a story our minister told.

Heavy rains fell and the river started rising. The hydrologists alerted the emergency network that a life-threatening flood was imminent. The police went around door to door telling people in the flood plain to evacuate. One man said, "I trust in God. I don't need to evacuate." The water began to rise until there was water around all the houses. The emergency people came by in boats and called to the man who was now in the second floor of his house. "Come get in the boat. The water is going to keep rising. This might be your last chance." But the man replied that God would take care of him and he was staying in his house. The water continued to rise until the man was forced to his rooftop. The Coast Guard came with a helicopter. The pilot let down a sling and through a loudspeaker told the man to get in, that his house would be underwater in a few minutes. But the man said God would take care of him and refused to go. The water kept rising higher and the man drowned. When he went to heaven, he walked angrily to God and said, "I put my trust in you and you let me drown. Why weren't you there?" And God replied, "You refused the policeman I sent. You refused the boat I sent. You refused the helicopter I sent. You deserved to drown."

I identified with this story because I live in the midst of a natural mystical world. It's like God saying, "I sent the trees. I sent the birds. I sent the blue sky. If you don't go walking out in the world and instead keep yourself locked up in your own thoughts, then you deserve to be depressed."

Karma corollary
I often go down to the section of streambed I just mentioned. Often I walk down there to "see what's happening" but I suppose, in truth, I go down there because it centers me every time and that centering feels good. This summer, I have been amazed at how much delight I've taken in a sleeping room I built two years ago. (I built it because mosquitoes are present throughout the spring and early summer.) It's on the edge of our garden. It has a very light frame of mostly 2x2's with walls of screen and a roof of transparent vinyl so we can see the stars overhead. I love sleeping out there. I love the whole idea of it. I love the structure of it and the quality with which I built it.

I also enjoy sitting on the shaded bench in our garden watching the butterflies, dragonflies, and birds that are attracted by the garden. The garden is very beautiful and grows more beautiful each year, thanks mostly to the passion and sweat of Alysia. These three examples represent some sort of corollary to the law of karma. As you sow, so shall you reap. Putting your love and life-energy into building something really good can, sometimes, create something that gives back far more in an importantly different way. I have experienced this idea as a general premise. I'm not sure of the specifics. There are many things I've created, for example, which have not given me the same spiritual rewards so I could not predict which project would lead to such a result. It casts a general aura of "build well and lovingly" over everything but I think this idea can be taken deeper than I have taken it.

Just animals
Several issues ago, I took exception with a friend who proclaimed that "we are just animals." My daughters listen to pop music on the radio and there's been a song with the line, "You and me baby are nothing but mammals." I wish to underline the words "nothing but" and ask, "what do you mean by those words?" Or to take my friend' phrase and underline "just". There is nothing "just" about being an animal. I find nothing spiritually degrading about being an animal. I love to feel my lungs breathing hard and my skin sweating during a long uphill hike. I enjoy squatting in a forest and defecating, giving back some of what I received. I like taking young kids on my tours to a patch of miner's lettuce and getting down on our hands and knees and eating the leaves directly without using our hands (and mooing occasionally). Being an animal is good; it's fun. We should savor our animalness.

But there is a profound difference between saying, "We are animals" and "we are just animals" or between "We are mammals" and "we are nothing but mammals". What is meant by "just" or "nothing but"? In my mind, it is simply the flip side of the view that draws a line of spiritual superiority between humans and the rest of the world, that views much of the world as base with a small human island of upward intent. The "nothing but" people seem to counter that notion with "there is no spiritual island for people. We are just down there on the same level as the other animals." I walk away from either position because for me, the entire world radiates with upward intent. There is no spiritual island; instead there is a vast spiritual mountain for (and partially created by) all of creation. There is nothing "just" about being part of this universe. Every molecule is blessed.

Chrysalis Update
I want to thank many of you who sent notes of encouragement and support during the political turmoil Chrysalis went through this last school year. Though the process was extremely unpleasant, the results are perhaps the best possible: each "faction" now has its own independent charter school and is free to pursue its vision in the way that its passionate teachers believe is best. Chrysalis survives and with several new staff members who are bringing a lot of experience, wisdom, and passion to the school. It will probably be the school's best year yet and could very well be the beginning of an era of fantastically great years. Our charter is up for renewal this year. Unfortunately, our reputation with our chartering school board was damaged during the political turmoil so we have work ahead of us. I have a favor to ask of those of you who are involved with education or nature. If you could write a letter on organizational stationary voicing your support for renewal of our charter and stating, in whatever way you feel is proper, how you believe Chrysalis is doing important work to research and transform education and the educational system and our culture, we could include these letters in our renewal packet. The board is usually focused on the level of the district. It would be interesting for the broader vision to be whispered to them by people far beyond the district's borders. If you are willing to do this, address the letters to the Enterprise District School Board but send the letters to me and I will work them into the right place. Oh, and be sure to thank them for supporting us during our first five years. Thank you.

Videos
In another past issue, I shared my desire to make videos. This summer I bought basic video equipment for Chrysalis so I can work on this dream by making nature videos for the school. I took the camera on a recent hike and was delighted how powerfully the camera complemented pencil and paper, allowing my mind to grapple with the world at a deeper level. When I got back from the mountains and viewed the footage, I realized I have a lot to learn in terms of basic technique but, ah well. I'm excited. I want to make videos about oak galls, about the fit between honeybees and vinegar weed, about the way water moves, about... I hope by next issue to be able to give you a web address where you can stream some video that I've produced.

One challenge is moving the camera. I realize that an important part of what I want to communicate to others came to me as a trail lesson. It grew within me through walking, through having my eyes move through space which made me aware of the shape of the land and how sensual is the Earth. So one of the things I want to do is move the camera smoothly through space to bring out the shapes of things. The "smoothly" part is the challenge. I'll solve it somehow.

While thinking these thoughts, I watched the video of "The Thin Red Line". It uses the camera the way I hope to and the director is using war to wrestle with some of the same ideas I wish to explore with nature. The light, the goodness that radiates in all things and yet how cut off we can be from the awareness of our own immersion within this miracle. Highly recommend the movie. It is sooo visual.

While I'm on the topic of movie recommendations, here are a few other favorite movies of the upward spiral that I think readers of this newsletter would enjoy: Grand Canyon, The Truman Show, The Emerald Forest, Dave, Strictly Ballroom. A couple of them are R-rated but nevertheless outstanding.

Swearing
Speaking of r-rated, I rarely swear. It usually doesn't bother me if other people do but my avoidance of swearing originates in a specific moment on a cross-country hike on the flanks of Mt. Lassen about ten years ago. It is a challenge to keep one's consciousness elevated during a hard, sweaty, uphill stretch. The mind can wander and mutter to itself. My mind was doing that and I gradually became aware that swear words were coming into consciousness quite often. All of a sudden, I perceived a direct correlation between my tendency to swear and the current direction of my mind/spirit. I suddenly realized that the rising of swear words within me was feedback that my mind was moving in a direction I did not wish to go, a direction of less awareness and more "at the mercy of things", with more of a negative attitude toward my experiences, and with a sloppy slurring of speech into generic packaged expressions. This was an important distinction: the swear words are not bad. But the arising of them in my consciousness is feedback that I'm straying off course. I suddenly saw that awareness of swearing could form a guardrail. This realization was so direct and strong that I stopped climbing and took a vow on the spot. What made the vow unusual was that it wasn't a vow to not swear. Swearing can come into speech so quickly (especially if I hit my thumb with a hammer) that I didn't believe I could keep that vow and what makes a vow a vow is that it is kept forever. Besides, my realization made me aware that it wasn't avoidance of swear words that was the point. Instead, the vow was to be aware of swearing rising into my consciousness or speech and to respond to that rising with a heightened attention to direction manifesting in part as a heightened precision in speech (which includes a default setting of not using swear words).

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