meliorism

n. the belief that the world tends to improve and that humans can aid its betterment

There is indeed an enemy within. Simply put, it is ignorance. This ignorance is far more concerning than the bewildering foolishness seen amongst Trump and his supporters. The ignorance of which we now call into question is far uglier than Harris’ continued support of genocide. The hateful rhetoric being spewed upon us all from both left and right that has the whole planet dizzy from too much media spin is but the fruit of a dangerous root that most seem to have nearly forgotten was there.

A while back I offered an essay about the Government in the Root. Sad to say, little, if anything has changed since then. If no awareness whatsoever is held among the people nor the leaders regarding That Which Matters Most, how could anyone be expected to carry but even a small sliver of concern, much less any genuine understanding of where to place ones action, ones sacred life force? We are perpetually arguing about symptoms and have seemingly lost all memory as to what caused the exhausting chaos increasingly experienced as normal. We treat gun wounds with gauze and wish for the best.

Terrorism is a symptom. Genocide is a symptom. Climate catastrophe is a symptom. Obesity, high rates of depression, apathy, rage, sloth, all symptoms. Yoga teachers, Christians, women and Latinos all siding with white supremacists to vote for a mysoginist with the belief that he is the best choice for our children is also, but a symptom. Peace activists rallying to electing an enforcer of law who has made it clear that she has no intention of defunding the military but of actually expanding it, is a symptom. Drugs crossing borders, high costs of groceries, failing education systems, rising rates of addiction, anxiety, and fear in general, all of it, symptoms of a sickness far deeper than politics, far more complex than the economy, something a mere election will certainly not cure. Trauma requires more than band-aides.

How do we regenerate sanity? How do we revive Right Relations? How do we become human again? After so many centuries of spiraling around in pointless searching, how do we re-member what has been disembodied so that we can together live well again? These questions might be better for the so-called “debates” than simply asking about what brand of bandage would the candidates endorse?

Over that past few weeks, I have been honored to connect with seed keepers from around the world. Firstly, my wife and I were honored to be asked to help bring together a group of Maori friends from Aotearoa (New Zealand) and a group of P’gakenyaw (Karen). This morning we bid farewell to a group of Thai and this afternoon we will be welcoming a group from Taiwan. In the unlikeliest of times, so much magic, beauty and hope is being woven together now. Give thanks.

When people come together in good ways and skillfully offer Story together, our bodies serve as conduits for what modernity will not allow us to see. Science, statistics, fancy degrees, etc. have the potential to point us in the right direction. However, to actually penetrate into deep reality, to feel the pulsing, multi-layered sensuality of raw existence and thus recover the lost maps that lead away from the vicious cycles of fear and amnesia most in the so-called “civilized” world are ensconced within, more is required than merely observing from a safe distance. Actual participation is required. We cannot simply point fingers and place blame upon the monsters we ourselves have created. We have to dine with them. We have to realize that in many cases, it us we who are the monster. And that only vulnerable, shared experience, well-tended to relations and proper initiation into Stories bigger than ourselves can awaken again what we have for too long neglected. This isn’t a game after all. This is life. We are living.

Maori meets P’gakenyaw.

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Our recent exchange with Thai farmers had us steeped in collaborative exploration of what many indigenous women from Turtle Island refer to as rematriation. Although the surface of this work rightly explores the “nuts and bolts” of how to gather and save actual seeds, essential indeed, the more motivational embers capable of eventually igniting real transformational actions, the kind that change the habitual way which ones interacts with the world comes not from “workshops” but from direct, initiatory emersion into Story. This necessary spark only arrises when cameras are set aside, notes are no longer being taken, egos are abandoned and hope-filled humans simply come together again, fully present, vulnerable and ready to listen to each others songs, allowing the Seeds themselves to lead the way.

For most, our heads have been far too molded into modernities narrow view to make sense of the Big Stories that guide all life. As such, no “How-To” session on Seedcare 101 can alone miraculously revive the awe-inspiring power that simultaneously rests within the hearts of humans and seeds, waiting patiently for the time when enough appropriate conditions are present for sprouting again. No new laws or policy can pull the sword out from the stone, no well-intended revolution will reveal the Holy Grail. One must have eyes to see and ears to hear. Good Story can offer this. Good Grief and a humble return to Right Relations, the ones that surface organically from within the fertile hummus of a shared, genuine desire to align again with Her.

A lovely moment from a seed story sharing session recently here at Pun Pun.

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I learned a new word from one of our course participants today . The word is meliorism. It is a word signifying the belief that the world tends to improve and that humans can aid its betterment. What an unlikely time to have such a word come into my orbit. Not unlike many others the world over now, the uncertainty of these strange days can keep me up at night. The bleakness of my homeland has me often forgetting to smile, unsure how best to orient my days. Due to the fact that I am a father and as such making choices based on my daughters best interest is my highest duty, it is difficult to say with certainty that my family will be returning to The States anytime soon if things don’t drastically change course. These fear based thoughts bring up all kinds of confusing emotions. Am I giving up?! Am I too weak for this world?! The voices in my head are just as confused as I am. In recognizing our most realistic current political options stateside; a convicted criminal who seems to admire fascists and is arguably one himself, or a cop who seems hell-bent on allowing genocide to play out, it can be hard to trust that the world is “veering towards betterment”.

Indeed, in times like these, melorism seems like the most ridiculous, ill-informed word ever. Yet, the word came to me from a farmer. An elder. Not one of those peculiar post-modern “farmers” that only plant one kind of genetically modified, enslaved seed from a massive tank-like machine with the only goal being to cut a profit, the kind tragically duped into viewing the Holy Land as an inanimate, lifeless “resource” only here for human benefit, but rather a genuine, real life farmer, an actual tender of Land. So, I listen.

Coming face to face with real farmers in these strange in-between times, when more people place trust in crypto currency than the actual air we breathe, is a lot like coming across a snow lion in the wilderness. It’s a very rare thing indeed. My heart races, then nearly stops in its tracks. My hands get clammy and my skin turns pale. It’s so exciting! The calm confidence they assume, the stories transmitted from each callused finger, each wrinkle on their weathered face. The miracle of sitting in the presence of such a wisdom keeper, a person who does understand what the root cause of all these symptoms are and yet even still, has not lost hope, is, to say the least powerful. It is a lot like, well, coming home.

I do have hope. I have hope because even though nearly 95% of all seed diversity on Earth has been destroyed in the last 35 years, 5% still remains. I remain hopeful because even though missionaries, military, western education, etc have nearly wiped out all traditional lifeways and with them nearly all understandings of what is possible beyond capitalism, science and war, there are still a few soft spoken spirits among us, genuine humble humans more dedicated to cultural sanity than to any political party, religion or desire to be right who know what to do, and do it well. Amazingly, even though it can certainly seem as though all wisdom has been lost, there still are people who know that our life does not depend on a low cost of groceries and fuel, but on healthy soil, clean water, fresh air, wild spaces, an understanding of how to keep seeds alive, how to tend to them well and honor the Original Agreements and yes, how to remain happy, even as the world around us burns.

We have entered a new moon phase (Scorpio). As such, tomorrow, alongside my wife, my daughter, a friend visiting from Israel, a friend visiting from Myanmar, several friends from Thailand and surprisingly, even with a couple of unexpected visitors from my old home in Paonia, Colorado, we will invite more seeds into the soils of our garden temple, with the hopes that these seed children we bury, with good grief in our hearts for the loss their mother must feel in seeing them go, will be be transformed into life-serving new ways that can, as our mentor, Martin Prechtel has often told us, “feed a time of hope beyond our own”. As we do so, we will sing songs shared with us from our homelands. We will tell stories that were shared with us from the comings together we have shared together recently with friends from near and far. We will do our best to keep alive their stories and allow them to cross-pollinate here with ours. We will be careful to guard this sacred effort from the illusion that the world is but a cold dead place, that beings who look differently than us are to be feared. We know that soil can only sustain life when filled with rich diversity and that we humans, are the same. One seed planted well in good soil can soon bring to life millions more. All might now appear to be lost, but we have faith in the power of what remains to regenerate again never-before-seen pathways. Today we plant again along with these seeds, the long forgotten belief our ancestors carried with them so well, that the world tends to improve and that humans can aid its betterment.

As our dear new Maori friends from Aotearoa say, “Aho.”

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May your mind and heart be free from fear.

May your gardens grow well.

All blessings.

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Rematriation: “Rematriation” is a term that carries profound meaning, transcending the mere act of returning land to indigenous communities. It encapsulates the idea of re-establishing an inseparable connection between the people and their ancestral land, allowing them to engage in reciprocal relationships guided by respect, reverence, and care. This process acknowledges that the land is not just a physical space, but a spiritual and cultural foundation that shapes the identity and worldview of indigenous communities.”

*this definition comes from The Northwest American Indian Coalition. Please follow the link provided here for a more in depth understanding.

“Aho”, v. to shine (Maori)

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