(image via wikipedia)
Goooooood Morning SuperForest!
The sun is setting at Zero One. Pale golden shafts of sunlight turn all into honey and rainbow sherbet. It is Sunday, the very first meeting of the Church of Aloha. Attending are Melissa, Brad, and I. We sit cross-legged on the ground in the center of the rudraksha forest. Above us, deep blue fruit swing on the tree branches. These fruit will soon fall, the blue flesh will be eaten by insects, and the nestled seed inside is brought to the world of the seen.
(image via elitechoice.org)
These are rudraksha beads, sacred to Hindus as their blue color represents the skin of Shiva, and the seeds five divisions (or faces,) represent the five facets of his appearance.
We three sit beneath the golden canopy of our rudraksha forest, a grove of trees at the top of the property.
Brad sits with his eyes closed. He has set an object on the ground before him and he attends to it with his hands, silently preparing. A hinged wooden box opens to reveal two jars, and a beautiful inverted copper pyramid. Into the pyramid he places a few strips of pressed, dried cow dung. He removes each strip from his bag, smears each one with ghee, and arranges it in the pyramid. He unwinds a twist of hempen line, coated with beeswax, a wonderful mini-candle. This line he lights on fire, and touching the flame to a ghee-smeared strip of sacred dung, he sets it alight, then places the lit strip into the pyramids center, where it in turn lights the rest. Golden flame consumes the ghee-smeared dung, and the smoke wafts up into the trees. We smile at each other.
Brad arrived five days ago. He was hitch-hiking. Melissa and I had stopped to drop off a big load at the good will, saw him standing up ahead by the side of the road, and both thought “we have to pick this dude up.” We picked him up and he explained to us that he was a permaculturist, permaculture instructor and designer, and traveler. Of course he came to stay with us.
Earlier that morning, Melissa and I had discussed our desire for a permie, or gardener to come help us garden the land. So when Brad introduced himself, we smiled and thanked the Universe. Only a few hours had elapsed between the request and the reception. Marvelous when things work out that way.
Brad had brought with him a heavy bag, and he was eager to set it down once we got to the land. We walked him around. He felt right at home. He said, “I know this place. I’ve been coming here astrally for years.” We were going to get on fine. He had a good vibe and we were happy to share with him our plans for the land, and our dreams of regenerative community. The sun began to set. He explained to us that a part of his spiritual practice was a sunrise and sunset ritual called agnihotra. This ritual, he said, helped to purify and remove toxins and negativity, especially radiation, from the air and land, and the ash that resulted was a miracle solution for growing plants. He said, “why do you think my backpack is so heavy?” I said, “because you’re carrying around a big load of cow shit?”
As I said, he was our kind of guy. The kind of guy who would fly twenty or so pounds of dried cow dung from the mainland to Kauai, and fly barefoot, with all the tension the TSA can bring, in order to perform a purifying ritual wherever he went, sunrise and sunset.
(image via flickr user yncc2011)
So that night Brad brought out his kit, smeared the chips of cow dung with ghee, set them in the pyramid, inflamed them, said a mantra, sprinkled two pinches of unbroken rice grains upon the flames, and we all sat and silently watched the flickering fire.
We must incorporate this into the Church of Aloha! we thought. How fun! How funny! How harmless! How wonderful! How meditative! How respectful! How loving! How utterly and undeniably bonkers!
The freedom to choose fresh and anew each time what is holy, what is sacred, what is ritual, is my favorite part of the Church of Aloha.
Jump ahead to Sunday. The agnihotra fire burns out. Brad, Melissa, and I smile at each other, thanking each other. We walk into the main house. Inside, I boil water for tea, and mix the pancake batter. Melissa finishes tidying up a part of our house. Brad sits cross-legged on the floor, talking to us about his life. The water boils and we pour it over dried jasmine for tea. I slice starfruit.
I make two kinds of pancakes for us this night. One batter has animal products, one only vegetable. For the animal batter, I use an egg and one cup of goat milk. For the veggie batter, rice milk and no egg. Both batters share flour, baking soda, coconut oil, and cinnamon. I crush three starfruit in a bowl with my hands, and pour the juice through a strainer into a saucepan, set on high heat. This golden juice quickly boils and reduces to a syrup. The syrup goes into both batters. Yum.
The skillet heats up over a small propane flame. The smell of hot coconut oil fills the rooms as the pan is greased. I pour two pancakes from the animal batter, one from the veggie, as Melissa and I are eating animal these days. Onto each pancake goes a slice of starfruit. Starcakes!
(image via autumnmakesanddoes)
I crank out delicious pancakes for an hour, plating them up for Brad and Melissa, eating standing up myself. I like to eat standing up. I like standing up. It’s good for the abs.
(image via flickr user gurukkal)
The creation and consumption of the pancakes acts as a nice parallel to the agnihotra. Both use butter and flame. Both are delicious in their own way. Agnihotra is visually quite nice, and to sit in silence as the sun sets surrounded by friends feels wonderful. Pancakes the same. They look nice, they taste great, and are the perfect way to get together with friends. You know your pancakes are good when everyone gets real quiet when a fresh batch comes out. It’s impolite to talk with your mouth full anyway. :)
(image via flickr user LoraEnglish)
We ate pancakes together. We listened to each other talk. We enjoyed the sweetness of the maple syrup and starfruit and the greenish-smelling smoke of the agnihotra together in one nosefull. It was a perfect church. We didn’t get around to watching a movie, but that was okay. There is always wiggle room.
For the next Church of Aloha, I am going to make a proper silly hat out of this pink furry backrest that I found at the thrift shop. Correction, I am going to make two silly hats. One for Melissa and one for me.
Why, you ask? Because I decided that it would be fun, and therefore holy, and therefore necessary to proper churching. Just like any religion or church. Someone somewhere some time decided that they were going to choose a behavior and call it church, call it holy. That’s exactly what we’re doing. Holy pancakes. Holy sharing. Holy get-togethers. Holy compassion. Holy silly hats.
Agnihotra is holy because someone thousands of years ago decided that it was. Serving pancakes on organic farms is holy because someone this year decided it was. The difference between the two? Time. That’s it. Both holy.
Churching is fun!
Love to All,
-Jackson
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