Late May, 2003
As I write this, spring is turning into summer, the black-headed grosbeaks are singing up a storm here at Lost Valley, we're hosting a "Permaculture and the Sacred" workshop with Starhawk, and I'm wondering how best to introduce this issue of Talking Leaves. About a month ago, I wrote a draft editorial which explained upcoming changes in our publication approach, and our reasons for making those changes. As I review that editorial now, written before we had formally decided on those changes, I read the "declaration of indepenence" of a burdened person, struggling against a self-imposed role that had become limiting. I now feel much more open, optimistic about our publishing future, and excited about the projects ahead-no longer so jaded by the written word. What follows is the gist of what I wrote a month ago, included so that you, our readers, can better understand the process that led to the upcoming changes. At first glance this may appear to have little to do with our theme ("Community With All Life"), but figuring out how you, I, and everyone and everything else fit with one another--what roles we take on in this earth community, how we choose to express ourselves--actually has everything to do with our theme. So here's how we got from "there" to "here"...
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Mid-April, 2003
Before I could read or write, I had a distinct impression of the value of the written word: limited. I remember scribbling all over a piece of paper and giving it to my mother, saying that this "writing" was just as good as what adults did. It was. I didn't object to learning to read and write in elementary school, and even enjoyed it, but as a child I never entertained any illusions that words on a page represented ultimate reality.
Instead, I remember looking at birds flying overhead and telling my mother I wished I were a bird. I was happiest when jumping high into the air to catch a swiftly-moving baseball, or lifting off of snow-covered ground in a toboggan, or sailing a frisbee through the air, or engaging in some other form of free, unrestricted motion.
Somehow, somewhere along the way, I got seduced by the written word. My love-hate relationship with this form of expression had many ups and downs, but after periods of overindulgence and fasting, I finally found a somewhat healthy balance, and ended up as a magazine editor.
However, I'm getting signals that, as they always do, things change. Words are still important to me, but in my current role I'm too often in a "reactive" rather than "proactive" relationship with them. My job entails filtering all the words that come my way as submissions to this magazine, and arranging them in some coherent form four times a year. It also involves managing virtually every aspect of producing and distributing the magazine, maintaining the subscriber database, updating the website, soliciting contributions, etc. It helps me, but doesn't necessarily help the magazine, that I am only a part-time Talking Leaves staff member (albeit its sole staff member), and that more of my time is spent "in motion," gardening and co-facilitating the organic gardening apprenticeship here.
Talking Leaves' quarterly magazine format now seems overly restrictive to me. Because of our schedule, issues come out not necessarily when they're organically ready to come out, but because the calendar says they need to come out. The length and format of the magazine mean that many topics are covered in a cursory manner. The number and quality of contributions arriving from outside vary greatly from issue to issue, and it now seems to me that only synchronicity and some inherent intelligence in the universe has allowed us, thus far, to produce issues that have held together so well.
Yet I know that much of what both I and Lost Valley can contribute to the world through writing and publication is not being revealed in our current format. All the busy-ness of putting out a quarterly magazine has meant that many projects that we've thought of, or that numerous others have suggested to us--such as a Lost Valley cookbook, a nature guide to our land, booklets or books exploring in-depth what we've learned about community, gardening, permaculture, and sustainability, and detailing the teachings of Naka-Ima and other workshops--have all needed to be put on hold. As a sometimes-inspired writer who nevertheless retains my childhood impression of the value of the written word (limited), I would like the time I spend with words to be as meaningful as possible, not diluted by filtering millions of other words. Editing so much other material is a fine thing to do, but after six years of it I feel as if I've paid my dues.
Therefore, our next publication--whatever and whenever it is--will result from an organic readiness to publish, not a timetable. No longer a strict quarterly, Talking Leaves will be only one of the printed productions of Lost Valley Educational Center. We will be working on several writing/publishing projects simultaneously, and will send each, when completed, to all paid-up supporting members of Lost Valley. (In the event that we produce substantially more printed material than we have been sending in magazine form, we will send at least an equivalent amount as part of your membership benefit, and offer additional books at reduced cost.) TL subscribers who are not happy with this arrangement can request a refund on issues not received (or replacement with back issues), but our intention is to provide at least as much value for your "subscription/membership buck" as we would have with the strictly quarterly magazine. We will keep you informed about updates to this arrangement as our publishing future unfolds. All back issues that we've produced (starting with Volume 8, 1998), as well as several previous ones, are still available, and a "best of" retrospective is a distinct future possibility, either in magazine or book form.
So, you may be wondering, what has replaced my obsession with producing a regular TL on a preordained schedule? Why don't those long nights doing layout after full days in the garden, or those weekend marathons on the computer, hold quite the same appeal any more?
As I said, things have changed. Or actually, they haven't changed, they've just returned to how they were a long time ago before I got distracted. To me the living world is what holds interest, and the lifeless page (or mechanized computer screen) is relevant only insofar as it communicates something about the living world. Or, to put it another way, I have rediscovered my desire to be a bird, to dissolve my human ego-bound self and to fly. I seem to have had more flying dreams in the last year than in my entire life preceding that year. Although I'm still a novice in this field, I've become highly motivated to learn about birds, and am enrolled in my third bird class since the fall (with a local Audubon birder). I'm also trying to learn to identify as many birds as I can by their songs and calls. I'm now finding the same fascination in birds that hooked me into plants almost twenty years ago (a fascination that abides).
My other obsession these days has been learning to play the guitar. This pursuit has proved just as engaging, since it too involves what I would suggest is a deeper level of truth or experience than can be found on a printed page.
So I hope that, amidst all of this, you will understand why, as Lost Valley publications manager, I feel a big burden lifting, and new gusts of inspiration replacing it, when I can tell our readers that, from this point on, they can confidently expect the unexpected from us. Static forms give way when living spirit takes hold. Or something like that...but I think a bird or a guitar might express it better.
PS: Having gotten all of the above off my chest (and created a nearly limitless opportunity for others to tease me about bird/word droppings), I proceeded to read through the rest of this issue with new eyes, and reached two conclusions: (1) the written word does indeed have some merit; and (2) TL is still vital and has good reasons to continue publishing. The changes ahead--more variety, more surprise, and a more organic approach to production--should enhance our publishing efforts in ways even we can't predict. As always, we welcome your ideas.
©2003 Talking Leaves
Summer 2003
Volume 13, Number 2
Community With All Life