The earth is humming around these parts. Buds are popping, birds are calling and that first, ethereal green of spring winks from every nook and cranny. The life force, long quiet, has woken with a wide-mouthed and toothy roar.
In the early spring, I often find it hard to keep my equilibrium. It is the time of year I am most likely to slip into a pattern of keyed-up, stressed out living, where my day is no more than a mental to-do list. Suddenly there is no time. I feel an urgency, a rushing, insistent energy of kinetic emergence. As if I am the forsythia, the red bud, the dogwood. And each of us responding to the same command: everything must be – and now!
This sense of harried purpose is compounded for me by daylight saving time, this absurd human construction that as a child I was told was for the farmers and which I am now told is intended to conserve energy. In practice, I’m guessing the farmers work from before sunrise to after sunset no matter what the clock says. And I’m also guessing that the energy usage curve for say an air conditioner in the Deep South isn’t going to follow the ticking clock, but rather the natural temperature rise and fall of the day’s heat. For me, someone who has to chase the clock for public school and work, it simply means I’m sixty minutes behind for weeks.
It turns out that we aren’t actually required by law to observe daylight savings time. “The American law by which we turn our clock forward in the spring and back in the fall is known as the Uniform Time Act of 1966. The law does not require that anyone observe Daylight Saving Time; all the law says is that if we are going to observe Daylight Saving Time, it must be done uniformly” (1). There’s definitely plenty of wiggle room in that there law should anyone wish to take up the anti-daylight savings time crusade. Send me the petition; I’ll sign it.
For today, however, my interest is solely to wonder at how aspects of the life force can become distorted as they pass through human hands. As with this business of man-made time: the ticking clock a distortion of Nature’s daily rhythms.
Note that I’m not saying Nature is good and humans are bad. In my book, I’m as natural as the air I breathe and the water I drink. But as air can whip itself into a hurricane gale and water into a tsunami, so too can I distort the life force. It is, at a minimum, something to notice.
And I’m thinking, despite the fact that I will continue to exist in the world of consensual reality – the place where we legislate uniform time – that here, in my own space, I am free to live how I choose. So today on the homestead I’m disintegrating distortions. Visualizing each as one of those soapy water bubbles I blew as a child, and then, the fun part: popping them! Popping them with my breath, with a flick of my fingertip, with the wonderfully sharp point of a tack I’m sure I’ve stepped on countless times.
I start with man-made time. Makes a shiny bubble full of clocks and calendars and ticking sounds that tries to float quickly away. See it over there? Pop!
And then I name the distortion in our world that says that the natural realm is a fearful place. Pop!
I name the distortion in our world that says we are only as valuable as the salary we earn. Pop!
I name the distortion in our world that says bigger is always better and industrial agriculture is the answer to feeding us all. Pop!
I name the distortion in our world that says salvation will come from on high, be it from a remote deity or a paternalistic government, rather than from within the individual. Pop!
I name the distortion in our world that says one culture is better than another; that says that one religion is better than another; that says one race is better than another; that says one gender is better than another; that says one sexual orientation is better than another. Pop!
Maybe it’s the soap from the bubbles, but I swear my space is looking clearer, brighter. I can definitely breathe more easily. And I can now see past the tolling clock on my mantle and the to-do list on the fridge to the magic of spring out my window. The birds sing, the flowers push upward. I smell the rain-soaked earth. I feel a gentle lift to the passing breeze.
I highly recommend this cathartic child’s play. It’s easy. Simply sit, grounded in the earth’s surging spring energy, and pop whatever distortion bubbles arise for you. What does your world look like now?
© Jennifer S. and harvestliberty.net, 2012.