So first I started thinking about counter conformity and the seeds I have planted and want to continue spreading like wildflowers. A lot of what is “unique” or “alternative” about me is really just getting back to old traditions or ways of being.
Like polyamory. This isn’t a new idea. I’m not polyamorous because it’s trendy. Poly isn’t a young person/sowing your wild oats kind of thing. Polyamory isn’t about sex, although sex can be a part of it, but the actual word means many loves. And we used to live in community, in our tribe. We didn’t have nuclear families. Paternity didn’t matter, the men hunted meat for the whole crew, the women breastfed and cared for all the babes. The concept of marriage and property ownership and industrialized food and all of that came later, and is actually pretty new in the grand scheme of things.
Or the placenta encapsulation that I do. Women have been eating their placentas since waaaaaaay back in the day. It’s only recently, and it’s only mostly in the U.S. of A (because everything is gross to us here….birth, death, sex, etc.) that we’ve decided we’re too good for it. We’d rather take drugs or see a doctor or somehow make it all go away. Or home birth. We’ve only been birthing in hospitals about a hundred years. That ain’t very long. And we moved birth to the hospital because there was an opportunity seen to scare women into hospitals and then make money off of them. Birth wasn’t/isn’t any safer in the hospital. Yes, women used to die in childbirth a lot more than they do now, but that’s because we didn’t know to wear gloves and wash our hands. Not because we were birthing at home.
Food. Like – I don’t eat seasonal fresh produce because it’s hip. You know what I mean? Fresh produce isn’t a new idea. We all got fucked a tiny bit because the obsession with the convenience of processed food got out of hand, but going back to eating food from the Earth isn’t something we just discovered.
Then I started thinking about where I’m at personally right now in my life. And again how perfect this fucking prompt is. Because literally I’ve been saying this the last few months: OK! I’ve planted my seeds! SPROUT MOTHUH FUCKAHS. I am ready to bear the fruits of my labor. I’ve been in the incubator that is my current house for 4 years. I’ve outgrown my container. I’m ready to devour the crops that I’ve planted and tended to for this last season of my life. And transition into something even bigger and better.