I do feel dilute with others, yet I crave alternate histories. A storyteller without much to say can be an utter disappointment to an audience and my early twenties have been a glaring reminder. A lot of theories. Lack of substance. Style. Little function.
Adaptation to adulthood required further education. As Americans, we’re told that this is the only way to develop individual process, to perfect ourselves by way of art and form. The market generated from this creates an indebted class of students freshly embarking on a lifelong career in said refinement. Of course, some means of steady income tend to be more desirable than others and thereby, education is priceless, right? Refinement also comes in degrees – how much is the student willing to study; back up their investments of time with financial support; how well can this person develop his/her own niche in his/her own applicable field? This is an equation plugged for the illustration of cost analysis. It can be staggering, I say.
In January of 2010, I stumbled into a beloved local coffee shop after a hellacious day of snow and mass-transportation. I needed to run to the bathroom, but I’ve always believed in ‘feeding the underdog’ and a cup of coffee would do my foul mood/cold demeanor very good. By way of my bee-line dash to the corner door, a flash of text caught my eye:
…Become a Master Herbalist…
450 Hour Program – Feb. 13th, 2010 – June 26th, 2011
It took me two or three days to call. I had a decent paying job (albeit, mournfully temporary!), a room-mate situation and an osmotic interest in alternative healing. The possibility prevailed despite my skepticism sneering that Herbalism seemed too much of a Wayfarer Trade. I discussed it with a few people during those twenty-four hours that I had to decide. On a whim, I enrolled that following Friday with my deposit. Class started in two weeks. Thankfully, that’s the exact length of time that Amazon.com took to deliver me my first set of text books.
I am's gonna get me a good edu-mah-cation.
We started with Anatomy & Physiology, a set of classes instructed by Luke Terry, a nutritional consultant as well as Acupuncturist, with his holdings in Traditional Chinese Medicine. The answer to his Eastern deliberations came in the form of Carter Draves, a wise woman incarnate with a penchant for Permaculture. The rhythm and cadence of mankind's incredible machine drove me through the readings. Conceptually, I was set. But with each progressive topic (Anatomy to Botany to Pathologies) a myriad of side-bar inquiries broadcast the depth of what we were breezing through. A lot of what was lost on me involved the more esoteric, feeling aspects of what was going to be a life-long trade. Twenty-ten intimidated me with effervescence. I had to learn a lot, quickly. I had myself to learn as well: my processes, discretion and practical application.
I’ll fast forward now.
This is a very familiar format to me. I’ve mutilated the blogging system for a decade now and broadcasting isn’t something I’m very fond of. On the other hand, insatiable curiosity having infinite access doesn’t allow any excuse for ignorance. My ease with digital collaboration has lead me to some interesting (some ridiculous) places that I’ll rave about for years to come. Who isn’t in awe at the sheer amount of information transcribed into a dialect based on ‘1’ & ‘0’?
As my new ‘interest-trade’ developed into (money-making scheme, perhaps…) ‘Faith’ of a universal system composed of ‘1’ or ‘0’; I’d found truth in laws of absolute function adhered to by any/no-thing. At twenty-three--born twenty years too late--I’d finally caught up with the Ye'Ol'Gurus-'ah'-Great of America's sixties blasted. Yet, I think I was most humbled by simplicity.
We do not live simple lives. The physical processes maybe simple, but our environmental complexities are unfathomably dis-associative. Hence why we think of our lives as ‘simple’ and love the words' every connotation. [See Also: Normalcy Bias (maybe inappropriate foreshadowing)] However, there is nothing simple about a computer mouse, a microwave, a computerized transmission. The variety of materials alone predicate any one human being from knowing how to manufacture the object from start to finish. Our specialization of industry--while indeed proven lucrative--leaves production entirely at the hands of networking and distribution. This isn't my fear. I fear the inability to continue networking and distributing. I'll make the cause for regional (front-yard farming) on another night. For now, it is the non-profit co-operative nature of local agriculture, local medicine, local priorities over the 'Industrial Cup of Tea' I'm bitterly sipping that is directing---What exactly?
Ah hell. I'm not the architectural type, I can't scope out blueprints without the foundations before me. I'll plant this bit for now, scrounge up s'more insight and return to the topic. For now, I've discovered that the nutritional values (mineral) of just Peppermint rival that of Nettle. A fine tea suggestion to me.
