Satire: Be the Mess

The Return of Hu Dat Lin

Greetings fellow travelers,

Thank you all for your feedback. My first guest post received comments describing it as a “piece of blasphemous doo doo” and “containing cultural appropriation on a par with Hong Kong Phooey,” In short it was successful beyond my wildest imaginings. Consequently, I was invited to leave my cave once again and share my thoughts on whatever it is I am thinking about. The folks at Turtle Paradise value a good discussion and I think they're hoping that I write a piece so controversial that it results in a real “knock down, drag out,” (as we say in my neighborhood.)

Let's jump right in. First I'd like to take a look at a permaculture principle:

Produce no waste.

Can everyone see it? I put it in bold so it's more easily noticed. Okay, now that's taken care of we can proceed to more interesting topics. It's in my contract that I must write about permaculture principles and I think that should suffice.

Let's move on to the good bits. It's spring and everyone's keen to clean up. Social media is full of the angst of gardeners wringing hands about the holocaust of beneficial insects should they snip a stalk a moment too early. I would direct my readers in the throes of this hysteria to this exercise. It probably won't help, but it might take your mind off your problems and it allowed me to I sneak in a bold personal promotion. As we say in my home hamlet, “It's all good.”

I've been out doing some clean up myself, as well as turning over some soil, and putting animal products in my compost. I like to keep the kitchen garden orderly, but elsewhere I try to limit the tidying up. As I practice limping meditation outside the confines of the garden fence however, my mind often wanders and I fantasize about cleaning up everything in sight. I do not pass judgement on myself when this occurs, but gently bring my mind back to simply walking and breathing by popping a small piece of chocolate into my mouth. Sometimes I skip the candy and merely sit (or more accurately stand uncomfortably in a slightly stooped position) with my feelings. I examine my need to have power over the woods and fields, and I mentally practice giving up control. Not excessively however because that could result in an embarrassing accident and a trip back to my cave for dry pants.

The activity descibed above is part of my journey through the Four Stages of Rewildenment. Allow me to explicate for those readers unfamiliar with this process. Most of us experience frustration and suffering when confronted with the messy bits of nature that don't readily submit to our efforts to control them. This leads to alienation from the natural world and sulking in our rooms. By following the path to Rewildenment one can eventually pass into a state of peace and acceptance in which the need to control is transcended and sulking is much reduced.

In the first stage, practitioners immerse themselves fully in the need to tidy up areas that don't really need it, including the far reaches of the back garden, the woods, and the area around the neighbor's mailbox that provokes annoyance every time one passes by. During this phase it is acceptable for one to fully indulge the need to impose order, even to the point of exhaustion. The novice may revel in a veritable rumspringa of mowing, raking, pruning, or otherwise attacking the mess out there, the better to understand during the subsequent stages the futility of such actions. Though it is probably hard to believe for my younger readers, age has a few advantages. I'm too tired to do much of anything and so I have progressed quickly to stage two. For those with much energy, transition to the second stage will be greatly hastened by the exercise linked to above.

Stage Two of Rewildenment is characterized by a hands-off approach. During this phase the adherent becomes more comfortable with doing nothing about the big mess, and remains essentially separate from it. As I write about this stage, I am reminded of a saying from my native borough, “Be smart, try not to work.” (Or something similar, the exact wording escapes me.)

Those who make it to Stage Three again begin to engage the mess, but on a much higher spiritual level than previously. It is in this stage that we actively begin to make messes. The key to success is expending as little energy as possible. Throwing some stumps, sticks, or branches in a pile with little regard to design is the hallmark of a successful Stage Three devotee. Felling trees and leaving them to rot; snatching the neighbor’s bagged leaves and dumping them behind your house; planting small trees or shrubs much closer than recommended so branches intertwine, and never pruning them —these are all signs that the disciple is well on the way to the final stage.

The Fourth and ultimate Stage of Rewildenment is called Be the Mess. This final stage is characterized by a shift in the adherent’s relationship to the mess. Rather than seeing yourself as outside of the mess, you begin to understand that because everything in the universe is connected, you are inside the mess, and the mess is inside you. The line between self and mess blurs until you and the mess are one. Thus, the saying, “Be the mess that you wish to see in the world,” is meant to be taken literally.

And now, since it is fashionable to do so, I would like to inform you of my preferred prepositions: against, over, through. I’ve always been a fan of prepositions and I'm thrilled at the newest trend of sharing them. Let me share with you one of my favorite phrases from my home settlement, “Come on up out from back down in under there,” a phrase directed at children who hide under tables in an effort to avoid work. It means “I see and acknowledge your sacred essence and that of this piece of furniture and it's okay to come out now.”

I hope I have inspired my readers to join me on the path through the Stages of Rewildenment, and also that this writing will provoke interesting discussion with accompanying indignation. Now I fear I have spent too much time and must return to my cave to deal with a personal sort of mess.