Incipient Vagabond--Verily

A neutron walks into a bar and orders a drink.  "How much do I owe you?" It asks the bartnender.  "For you," the bartender replies, "no charge."

Do people ever vex you?  When you say something and they are offended, or when you thought you were having a good time but then they don't respond to your requests to hang out, or they get really anxious about something, or start yelling or treat people rudely?  I have come across a personality model at an ecovillage that I visited, a commune that hosts more than a thousand visitors each year.  They share resources, strive to live by the gift economy, and succeed in that they handle very little money besides about 9000 dollars they need each year for taxes.  They don't make important decisions without consulting and gaining the approval of every permanent member.  This is quite a feat.  They live without electricity or petroleum, without money, and biggest of all, while they may each have their spirituality, they are not explicitly religious, they are not capital-C Christian or any other extant ideological sect.  Some of them embrace Quakerism.  I have been learning the dynamics of community for several years, and this is a significant feat for a group that is not related.  They are 8 years old now, so it stands to be seen whether they survive, but probably 96% of attempts of intentional communities do not get this far. 

Some things I know to be important for a community is that they have common goals, if not ideals.  They must have good processes of communication, and for resolving conflict.  So they explained to me they practice a process of nonviolent conflict resolution, called restorative circles, and of course they shared their mission statement. 

But people can be vexing.  People can be obstinate, agressive, defensive, shady, two-faced. How do you suss that out?  How do we create a society in which we do not resort to violence or oppression to generate harmony amongst ourselves, without resorting to jail, murder, war, lies, deceit, oppression, rape, theft, how do we escape greed, envy, wrath etc in a post-christian world?

Here's where the personality model comes in. It is based on the way people process their environment, and what motivates them in their actions.  So there are three anger-based, three fear-based, and three independent types.  What's curious is there is a trifecta, 3-6-9, who seem to be the noble type; then there is the progression 4-1-7-5-8-2-4.

From 1 to 9, they are perfectionist, helper, achiever, individualist, investigator, loyalist, enthusiast, challenger, peacemaker.  Each of those is assigned a number, each of them can have a wing-type based on the neighboring type, is inclined to be friends (or frenemies) with people of the same or similar type, and sexually attracted to the person whos number is opposite theirs--the number which combines with them to make a perfect 10 :)

  I imagine it all works like an atom, a molecule, in each individual, though we tend to occupy different positions with different people, or in search of different people, like covalent or ionic bonds.  Because along with the romance and friendship typology, we also can shift types, and they do not progress linearly, numerically.  I'll start with an individualist, arbitrarily.  An individualist doesn't care much for the way the world is, and lives primarily out of their imagination.  If stressed, because they don't have a well-developed personal worldview, they will seek to help those who they know, in order to get them to help them get back to a place of security.  This type of person, when healthy, however, might be inclined to direct energy toward real-world issues, because they are intriguing to think about.  It is unclear how far a person can go in transitioning, but I imagine it's not far, often, because of the nature of communities--we are our roles, to our people, and because of our duties, we probably only reinvent ourselves a few times in our lives.  However, I have traveled a lot, and when I plug in, I often encounter people of different types, and tend to mold myself to what they need.  Sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously.  It is intriguing.. I am a one, fundamentally, but in studying this, I have imagined myself in a variety of positions, and realized I have occupied several of them at various times in my life.  I have been a challenger.  I have been the investigator, I have been the helper.  MAny of them are part of my personality, and so I don't think I have ever transitioned permanently, only expressed differently.  When I am stressed I individualize--throw my hands up on my principles and run, hop a train and sing, drink, whatever.  When I find something I like, I often investigate, tending to be enthusiastic about the good parts, though not offering much, not seeking to assert myself to be respected or valued, though I will offer help when I can.  So I am investigating the place.  When I find what I like, and threats to it,  I become a challenger.  But this is easy for me because my fundamental type is one of anger.  Fear-based types, or those who abdicate responsibility, I don't understand and --you guessed it--get angry with.  Here's what's funny.  I have a friend who is a loyalist.  His romantic ideal is an individualist--one with an active imagination, always making up creative otherworlds and inviting people to explore them together, laughing readily.  This person's progression would be toward a principled individual, a perfectionist who wants to be good and promote good in the world.  So I postulate that to him, I at first resembled his ideal type--sincere, wide eyed, confident in his perceptions of another world that does not currently exist.  But as we interact, he may start to see that all of his attempts to coax me into playful imagining of other worlds really only causes me stress.  I stress about belonging, being relevant, and come up with weak contributions.  This disappoints him and leaves us fizzling.  Now, I have another friend who is an achiever.  He is masculine--he doesn't let his feelings guide him, so much as his sense of what needs done.  I admire him in this and submit myself to him because I want to participate, to learn from experiences with him.  In this way he makes me healthier.  However, my healthy type is to be an enthusiast, which is his romantic type.  This doesn't work for me with women, however.  The last woman I mingled with who was an achiever accused me of mothering her, and importantly she perceived me as occupying a stressed space (which , sure, my type is a stress type--I had an absent parent, who I have integrated my need to gain approval from into myself.  Only I integrated a submission, rather than an agression, because my mother was present so the best I could hope for without introspection and practice would be to become the absent father, or dutiful closeted gay father.  Which is funny only because I am sexually attracted to women but emotionally attracted to males.  I have to find me some male mentors and establish that as our relationship so they don't misinterpret it and I can deal with this and move on).  Moving on... An enthusiast who's healthy becomes an investigator, an investigator who is healthy becomes a challenger, and a challenger who is healthy becomes a helper. 

Here there are some important relationship archetypes at play which can be learned from if you wish to go a little better informed into future relationships.  A helper who is unhappy becomes a challenger.  A challenger who is healthy becomes a helper.  So help a challenger and you get a helper.  These are more emotional types, not to be confused with the loyalist->peacemaker->achiever->loyalist flow. They are a good group to look for, because they tend to be groomed as proprietors.  They are less me-oriented, and the most civil types.  And again, different types can act different ways, depending on what a situation calls for and whether they are happy or stressed, so you have to watch the way they process a situation and sometimes test them to see how they process different invitations or threats.

Stillwater Sanctuary, as the community I visited is called, has 8 permanent members, and approximately three interns in any season. 

 E prime

Conjugations of the verb "to be" limits of the
What is beautiful depends on the person

Objectivity is elusive, illusory. I have a friend who informs me that there may not even be an objectivity, (at least from a social science POV, not one that we can access)--the most we can hope for is a universal subjectivity.  It seems that a final result of my search for truth, universal good, a right way of living--is to find what is effective, and what causes the least harm.  To create without destroying, to end without oppressing, is truly a process of beauty, the highest standard of art, for me.

This speaks nothing of those moments when destruction is our goal, of course.  When we seek to immolate, to explode something that is no longer useful to us or the purpose of which is to go through a process whos end result is intended to be residue, waiting to be reformed into new objects or subjects. 

If an object is a 3d form, then an event is a 4d form.  Imagine the earth being toroid.

Hey Folks!

So, I am living on my feet, by my wits and with faith in friends and community.  I have toured North America for the past two years, from San Francisco to Babylonia, Mexico (partially documented in previous posts--I might flesh it out more later-wild mangoes, herbs, monkeys, hammocks, bridges, cob oven, mountains and cute little kids and precarious roads) but need a more engaging medium), back up to Kansas (to work on a permaculture farm in Lawrence (undie run, cooperative houses, biking about) and on to Michigan--playing around in Forest Park and at a cooperative in St Louis, then on to Cleveland, Chicago, around the lake to Michigan, picking fruit and discovering more places, then down through Ohio again to Cleveland and up to New York, Boston, and back down to Baltimore, Asheville to work and mess up at Klaywerks, deciding to go home and ended up occupying Nashville for the winter holding down the fort on the windy Legislative Plaza, taking a crash course in politics and engaging the locals, learning about their issues and crash course organizing community.  As the weather warmed up, I planted several gardens, went to Chicago for the NATO protests, back to Kansas to visit family for a month, up to KC and Lincoln (I had other things I was supposed to be doing but resources and circumstances barred me from making it).  I stayed at a collective there and made friends, I had intended to stay and help start projects but remembered that the Bay is full of awesome people and resources and wanted to get more professional in order to do what I wanted to do more effectively and share it with a virtual audience , and find inspired and energetic and skilled folks to come out and help establish community and culture in all these depressing ass places!  So here I am.  I intend to get practice in circus arts, build costumes and exhibits, and maybe get a truck or just get a camera. I have amazing conversations with strangers, discover beautiful places, and now have great ideas that I want to manifest in art and events.  I know how to not only survive but thrive! And I think that if I can more effectively communicate what I'm up to, I can more effectively connect with the resources to manifest that art and those events.

https://maps.google.com/maps/ms?msid=208158339275309732723.0004a6a748ceaccc9e9ca&msa=0&ll=36.70366,-91.845703&spn=27.806654,67.631836

Hey,
So I'm in Asheville NC, I've been bouncing around still.  Living like that has allowed me to break wide open my scope of what can be considered home.  With a hammock, a water bottle, and a minicomputer (ipod) to stay connected with those I know and love, as well as a few smaller things, I can be at home almost anywhere.  It is taxing, certainly--I miss so many people and the interactions are less fulfilling.  But I'm working (off and on) and discovering and making connections.  Hopefully I'll have a breakthrough soon, however, and find a great place to base out of and a positive reputation and a daily life.  I have no responsibilities and thus have weak motivation.  I find myself feeling guilty for lethargy or lack of production.  I find myself not wanting to do things because they aren't investments in a greater story--just pissing in the wind where I may or may not reap benefits in the future.But this place is cool, I'm not completely under the thumb of human tyranny.  I think I'm heading back to California soon.

Tuxtla Gutierrez, another big rolling city, but nothing like DF, with a massive mexican flag--a mainstay of patriotism for the nationals.  A fine home, of a dentist's wife and son, though I never saw the man, they had two stories, running water; Luis and Marco and I, we went down to the plazas and climbed a great pyramid, lit up and maintained, played drums and sought a stick to spin as a staff; I explored as usual, and found a pineapple, a couple candidates (a broomstick, a slightly imperfect stick and an imbalanced stick), and a big dog, as well as an abandoned building on the shadowy residential side of the pyramid--in mexico they have taken stones and built cells, casing up the hill but with wells of dirt and plants regularly in the form of yards; this one was bulging with the roots of the tree by the sidewalk, and the door was open and it was dusty but with evidence of scoundrels, tenative tenants, guests morelike, in this bit of untended territory, a ghostly window into what was, and what will be, the first of its kind but definitely not the last.

We went down and rejoined the crowds, danced mildly but with little real interest.  The next day we hung about, and the following, slow to go, we finally took off a bit before sunset with little enthusiasm--lethargy sets in quickly, because every adventure starts off with an investment, a risk, a loss of a great deal of comfort--a sacrifice with the hope that it germinates into fruit, always new birth is the result of a loss, a giving up of energies.  But we did it, and didn't find a good place to thumb before walking all the way to Chiapas de Corzo, fortunately only a few miles beyond; we walked and arrived at the edge where we saw a small hillside with a stand of trees and darkness, inviting in its openness and cover simultaneous.  But as we were scoping it out, a man walked by down on the sidewalk, when my friends had gone out too far into the vulnerable space under the street light, and asked what they were doing.  Obedient as any other i've met here, my friends answered honestly, that we were looking for a place to camp, and the man said it belonged to another, and that in the daytime it was a parking lot.  I tried to persuade my friends that it was a good place to stay, and that we would be out early and it would not bring us any trouble, but they resisted so we went into town.  We went to the centro, as always, where a show had ended and there were people strolling about and a stage being dismembered.
Camped in the palacio
walked up through the humid jungle to the highway
caught a ride quickly, up to san cristobal de las casas, the weather dropping dramatically and awesomely
we wandered town a bit, but as my friends were where they wanted to stay, and i was tired of towns and wanted to be in the jungle where I could express myself and find food without societal impositions (cash), and so i parted for the final time from my friends.  i walked to the edge of town (though not before having intense urges to clear my bowels (a running theme throughout my time there), and upon seeing a wide open gate, with untended growth at the back, ran with relief to drop some fertilizer in the corner.  But the gate having closed behind me (no doubt by the guy who had seen me cross the road and into the place, being unsure whether i was supposed to be there, at least contented himself with my being trapped, and thus in a position where i would have to make contact with somebody in the building and thus likely to meet justice for trespassing if that were the case).  But all was fine, when i cleaned myself up and went to the back of the nearest business, and upon informing them that i had come in looking for a bathroom, and yes i was aware that there was no bathroom there, but now i was stuck, the ladies chuckled and went around to open it back up.
Off i went, into the land of collectivos, camionetas, trucks that go 10-30 miles at a go, for 20 pesos each, but i wouldn't have it and held fast, getting rides slowly but surely.  I got a ride from a couple coming from tuxtla, with treats from a weekend getaway, home to ocotzingo; they fed me a good starchy vegetable, steamed and soft with a spiky but loose and flimsy skin and a flavor between potatoe and sweet potato (jicama, i believe) and then soon after, just before sunset, another couple who had hosted a swedish girl once but spoke no english, though were apparently upper middle class, took me into the humid jungle and city of palenque.  I was here, finally, but there were no gypsies, only tourists again.  Where were the wild, wonderful, goofy gypsies?  I had expected several hundred people were coming to this, but no one was to be seen.
I found an internet cafe, and with my last five dollars, was able to buy 45 minutes of internet, to get directions on what to do once in town; then to buy some grande y dulce bread, and take a cab to el panchan, where the rainbow voice had assured me i would be sure to encounter fellow rainbowers.  I arrived, and there was no one, and i was a little disappointed, for i felt i would be awkward sitting at the entrance to this hotel and restaurant (jungle style, but tourist nonetheless).  But fortunately there was a tour guide, drunk and bored as well, with whom i spoke at length and we decided to go back for one more beer, if i had any change.  i did, so we walked and he informed me of some of his travels, how he had a son by a spanish woman, neither of whom would now talk to him, and lived in spain and america, respectively.  he told me he had heard drums the night before in the forest across the road, but would not have me walk into the forest now because of poisonous snakes.  he said men from the ruins, or the businesses, it was not known, were starting to be vigilant and shoo out us visitors, because we were arriving in greater numbers and too close to the ruins.  So he convinces me to go hide under a palapa, we'll stay the night and they won't notice and we'll leave very early.  but a woman and her daughter arrive and tell us we need to pay 2 dollars each--he says we'll pay in the morning.  No, now, and of course we can't and I say so and that I'll leave, but he persists, and somehow we end up simply moving to one farther away, after the women leave (submissive to the end).  We stay and they arrive again, and the same thing occurs again.  Well, we get up and out right at daybreak, but when he has shown me the path, he says he'll be paying off his half of the night's cost, and if i want to go back, and i should anyway, but only if and when i can, to pay off my two dollars.  he then wishes me luck.  I go off, into the forest on the path, high in spirits and begin to ascend.  but the area is unfortunately small, and i reach the back quite soon, a field some asshole has cleared and which has tall grass and nothing else, and a high barbed wire fence, but which i enter anyway to get some perspective and possibly scope out a good gathering location, because i'm aware rainbow is largely ad hoc.  But I descend finally, a bit forlorn, but take a different path around, and come upon a man with a shaved head and robes, and i am glad.
We talk, I share a bit of bread, and we talk and walk back to el panchan.  He is from Colombia, but has spent time in the US, but has been in Mexico for about a year.  He is barefoot, but as the day progresses we come to follow a couple of leads and try desperately to piece it all together, but end up walking some dozen miles and arriving at much the wrong location and end up coming back to where we started, where we should have stayed from the start, to wait patiently as the instructions dictated, at the entrance to panchan.
But all is well, finally, when we meet friendly travelers, a group from Kansas in fact, Brady and Clay, then Troy, and Andrea, a fantastic serendipitous event, which, as I've encountered before, because I put myself out there, asking the universe for something I want, time and again, looking for those who share my interests and passions, i encounter people who are willing and able to help me try.  Little did I know, in this first encounter, that these would become great friends, and I would, three months from then, join them on their permaculture village experiment in Lawrence, KS.  But for now, they simply gave me hope, saying surely "we" could pay the collective fee to bus us there.

So off to Babylon we went, merrily.