We are two days away from the New Year and I am relatively unprepared. The last two weeks have given me just enough time to clean out my pantry and binge on a bunch of things that I don’t normally eat anyway, just for the sake of it. In between ice cream sundaes, corn chips and bananas with peanut butter, I have been doing mental pushups to get ready for the year ahead because it’s too late to do all the things I wish I had done months ago. It is most inconvenient to start a project like this in the middle of winter. But, I’ve got daffodils blooming in my front yard right now and a lot of other things are growing right now, too. Still, I cannot help regretting all of the summer & fall fruits and roots that I have not stored or fermented, all the mushrooms I have not picked & dried, and the salt that I have not been collecting. Oh, god. Salt. It’s going to be like gold this year.
I snapped these pictures of my well-stocked cupboard and beloved tea collection before I gave everything away for Christmas. As I empty my shelves and my refrigerator, I am acutely aware of all that we could have done. But the truth is, I’m not worried. No matter how much we prep, we are never ready for the unpredictability of life. There are always a million reasons not to do something, and more time doesn’t mean I would ever feel that I had done enough. To me it all comes down to the simple fact that we have to start where we are, with what we have.
“You cannot manifest what you want. You can only manifest what you already have.” – Eckhart Tolle
When I heard this the other day, I felt it in my bones. I know that we already have everything we need. In the coming year, we will make visible the abundance that already exists. All of the pieces are here, and there is no place for fear.
I keep this in mind as I look around my cozy little apartment and take inventory of what I do have: an impossible kitchen that is no larger than two bathtubs, a jillion mason jars of various sizes, two crock pots, two Cuisinarts, a Champion juicer and a VitaMix blender and a bunch of “homesteady” cookbooks. I have cheesecloth, a bunch of freezer storage bags, sprouting screens and a big jug for storing fresh water that I collect from a local spring. I also have a pathological distaste for washing dishes, which I will have to conquer this year.
I look outside and I find myself in one of the most magnificent places in the world. I look at the Pacific Ocean from my window, and I trust that she will feed us. I am going to have to establish a better relationship with her first. I love walking on the beach, harvesting shells and driftwood and seaweed and watching the waves change color, but I have a thing about cold water, and so does Gowan. I told her that we need to begin this year with a symbolic polar bear swim, as sort of a peace offering. As soon as the winter waves calm down, we’re plunging. Also, we need wetsuits.
We are surrounded by the forest, and we have rivers, mountains, valleys and lakes. We also have shovels and lot of chutzpah. We live in an incredibly biodiverse region which has historically produced enough food to be food-secure, and still could. We live in an GMO-free county, with a number of inspired farmers and ranchers – young and young at heart – who know how to do this. We have plenty.
Last night while we were making dinner with the mushrooms we foraged, two friends surprised us with gifts of blackberry honey wine, perfectly ripened persimmons and roasted bay nuts and… sea salt! This is how the pantry will be filled – little by little, day by day, with the help of others. The land alone is not enough. And I know that this is not “our” project; we’re just doing one little piece. The great mycelium that connects us all is what will make this possible – and our survival literally depends on you. And you. And you. So, get ready to learn/cook/laugh with us!