The Richness of Las Vegas

"THE FERTILE LOWLANDS"

[Nyerges is the author of such books as "Foraging California," "Testing Your Outdoor Survival Skills," "How to Survive Anywhere," "Extreme Simplicity," and others.  He has been leading survival skills classes since 1974.  He can be reached at www.SchoolofSelf-Reliance.com. ]

Back in the late 1990s, when everyone knew the world was about to end in the Y2K meltdown, I spoke at many survival and preparedness conventions, including a few in Las Vegas.  My first such visit to Las Vegas was in March of 1996, where I was invited to the Preparedness Expo in North Las Vegas to promote my books, and give talks about the many practical reasons to learn about wild foods.

I gave talks from the stage and was at my booth all day talking with people.  Interestingly, most of the people I spoke with were residents of the Las Vegas area who expressed skepticism with my message. They told me that they didn't believe any wild foods could be found in the large desert flatland which made up their city, pointing  out that I’d brought all the plants that I talked about with me from my home in the Los Angeles area. I explained that in the few times I'd driven around the outskirts of their town, I'd seen at least a dozen common wild foods from my car. Cattails, for example, were very common in shallow waterways, and there are at least six good foods that can be prepared from cattails.

Still, these local residents didn't think they could survive in the wild outskirts of Las Vegas if that was their only food source. I agreed with that sentiment, because the desert alone doesn’t provide enough for today’s burgeoning population.  Before I ever visited Las Vegas, I'd read that the Indians who once lived throughout what is now modern Las Vegas survived eating such things as white sage leaves and seeds, grasshoppers, yuccas, cacti, creosote bush, willows, acorns, many seeds and nuts, and countless other desert foods. They hunted too, and their numbers were significantly less than today’s population.

I didn't meet a single Las Vegas resident who knew the meaning of "Las Vegas" in English. The fact that it means the "fertile lowlands" indicates that this sprawling valley has long been a very special desert locale where native people once found their entire sustenance.

One man who I spoke to still wasn't convinced that I had anything meaningful to share. He went home, collected a large bag of all the wild plants in his backyard and neighborhood, and brought them back for me to identify on the following day.

As I emptied the bag and identified each plant and told of its uses, a small crowd gathered to hear about each plant. He had collected sow thistle, a dandelion relative whose leaves are edible raw or cooked, and whose root can be made into a coffee substitute. He found filaree, a common desert plant that somewhat resembles carrot tops. The leaves and stems of filaree are sweet and tasty in salads, juices, and soups. The plant is sometimes called heron's bill or scissors plant. The man had found hedge mustard, a relative of our common mustard, but with a tangier flavor somewhat like horseradish. Several people stepped forward to taste the hedge mustard leaves after I ate a few and declared them delicious. He had also found desert dandelion, two wild buckwheats, pepper grass, and two or three plants which I didn't recognize. The man and his companions were convinced that food was abundant, even in that most unlikely desert city of glitter, lights and gambling.

I was aware of the Indian traditions of the Las Vegas area, and so I knew that there were resources to be found. Given enough time, I'm convinced I could have found  at least some of my food along the canyons and waterways that surround the flat valley where Las Vegas sits.

One man told me that he was certain I could not survive in the "wilds" of the hills and canyons surrounding Las Vegas. "There's no water around here," he told me. I had to agree with him that the current population is far too large for the desert to provide all the needed water -- which is why water is piped in today. Still, there is a lot of water in and around Las Vegas. This Las Vegas man did not know that Las Vegas was originally an Indian village, where they had springs and a few streams for water.

"But how would you get water today if you were out in the wilds around here?" he insisted. I explained that if I lived in Las Vegas like he did, I would have found out long ago where all the natural sources of water are located.  Later, I learned that Las Vegas gets approximately 40% of its water from its own underground sources. That’s not bad when you compare it to a place like Los Angeles, which gets only 26% of its water locally.   Plus, I told the man that the abundant prickly pear cactus would provide me with water, and the young cattails would provide me with needed moisture. If I could find cattails, I'd know that water would be found by digging not too deep. I also explained that in the desert you stay in the shade during the day and come out when it's cooler. I then explained how it was possible to collect dew from rocks, to set up catchments for the rain, and to dig and construct a solar still.

We had a lively conversation before I finally left his desert home and drove back to my home in the City of Angels.  As in most cases, resources from nature and from other people are everywhere, and it is only our pride and our ignorance which keeps us impoverished.

At the Monastery: Peyote Memories in Sierra Madre

How Drew and I Bonded, and


How A Night With Teresa brought back this Memory



[an unpublished section of a book that Nyerges has been working on about his childhood]

In 2008, I was sitting on the wide open field of the Passionist Monastery in the foothills of Sierra Madre.  My friend Teresa and I were sitting there in the darkness of the new moon, considering some key decisions before us.  We sat there on a large blanket which we had to move and arrange until we found a spot free of the ubiquitous gopher holes. It was dark and quiet, and we spoke little, but looked southward at the vast expanse of lights that made up the Los Angeles County sprawling urban expanse.

I didn’t perceive that I was in a state of crisis, though by the true definition of the word – a fork in the road where a decision must be made – my current state was indeed a crisis.

A decision needed to be made.  But why Teresa and I were there that night, and the decision I needed to make, is not what this story about.

Being there on the broad open field of the monastery brought back a flood of memories from approximately 1974, when I found myself facing another personal crisis of sorts.

Back then, my friend Drew Devereux told me how he researched where he was likely to find peyote in the wild.  He then hitchhiked down to Texas, along the Rio Grande, nearly to the Gulf of Mexico.  He carried just a little canvas pack. I admired Drew’s apparent lack of fear, and his ability to go where no man has gone before – well, at least to go where he hadn’t gone before, and certainly where I had never gone before.

He told me that in a little U.S. rural town which seemed far more Mexican than U.S., he got dropped off  by his ride and then he hiked into the nearby fields.  Drew described the type of trees that were out there, and how they grew in gullies in the slightly undulating landscape.  In some cases, lichens hung from the lower branches of the trees, indicating that the area is often in the shade, or that it was sometimes underwater. 

Drew wrote to me, “I remember the trip to Texas, of course.  But I almost gave up because I didn't find any cactus. But I met some people who told me that it grew everywhere, and they actually took me up a hillside and showed me where they grew.”

So Drew made his camp there for the night, comfortably out of view of what made up the small town.  At dusk, he ate some of the raw peyote cactus. 

He wrote extensively about his experience, and I was full of awe at what seemed a magical plant.

“Once I set up camp, I ate one or two and then the buttons took on a bluish glow in the growing dusk, making them really easy to see,” wrote Drew.  He explained that he noticed multiple blue lights glowing in the field in front of where he camped. The lights didn’t appear to be hallucinations, so Drew walked to one of them, and the light was emanating from a peyote plant.  He walked to another blue light, and it was also coming from a peyote plant.  Each blue light in the field was from a peyote plant which led Drew to conclude that there was something special about the plant that could not be explained by botany or biology alone.  He felt that there was an actual entity or presence that resided within or through each small little cactus button of peyote. 

As Drew was leaving on his hitchhike trip to go back home, he said that some cops kicked him out of town.  “As they were questioning me, one of them kicked my backpack and said I probably had drugs in there. I said ‘of course I don’t -- go ahead and look.’ Thanks goodness they didn't or I would probably still be there in prison.”

Months later, I’d driven all the way to Texas to find Drew’s patch.  I didn’t find his, but found another patch nearby, and brought a bag home.  Some time after that, Drew and I got together at my friend Larry’s cabin in Sierra Madre to eat peyote.  I was living with my parents at the time, and probably told them I was going to be camping out.

We sat and began to eat the nauseating cacti, and I eventually found myself staring at things.  I think it affected me more than Drew, but there’s no way to know such a thing.  I became very introvert about my life and the things I was doing or not-doing, and I didn’t talk much.

Drew asked me, with what I perceived to be a tinge of irritation, “Why are you staring at me?” to which I had no answer.  But in fact, when I stared, things were revealed to me, and each thing I looked at, including Drew, became a dynamic scene in motion which told me its past history and a complete story.  Drew’s face changed from one persona to another, to a monster, to a god, back to Drew.   It was best that I didn’t stare.

Later, past midnight, we walked a block away to the old Pinney house, which locals called a haunted house.  At the time, it was divided into numerous apartment rentals, and Rolf, a friend of mine from Pasadena City College, lived in one of the apartments.  Drew and I went in, walked up the stairs to his door, and let ourselves in.  He didn’t lock his door.  I went over to him where he was sleeping and touched his shoulder to wake him up.  He didn’t move. I pushed him a bit and all of a sudden he began to violently shake and shake and mumble, and he finally sat up, saying that we’d scared the hell out of him.  I said I was sorry. He said he wasn’t mad, but it took him a few minutes to compose himself and to calm down to where he could talk with us.

I told him we’d eaten peyote and we just sat there on his carpet for awhile, talking in the dark, and after awhile, Rolf lit a candle and made tea for all of us.  We talked about our experience, and what was on our minds for two hours or so.

Later, Drew told me “Being in your friend’s apartment, things became very supernatural for me. His cat assumed huge proportions. Then I felt that I was traveling outside my body through his window and looking at the street below. This view was physically impossible as I was laying on his carpet. So I got a bit scared for the first time and was then back in my body.”

Eventually, Drew and I could see that Rolf was tired, so we left and walked back to Larry’s place on the empty and dead-quiet streets of Sierra Madre.

           

Larry was asleep when we got there, and since Drew and I could barely sleep, we each found a place in Larry’s spacious yard and sat or laid down to rest and think.

I barely slept.  Too much was going on in my mind, and gradually I began to somewhat automatically review the current status of my life’s activities:  my school work with no concrete goals, my part-time teaching through other organizations with no clear agreements, my living with my parents but wanting something more for my life, my feeling of panic that time is racing by, my desire to learn more about many subjects coupled with an uncertainty if  I’d stick to it, and questions of how I’d finance those studies. My mind drifted over my desire for travel, my seeming unorganized life, my desire for spiritual awareness, my interest in writing as a profession but with no degree, my seeming habit of starting many things but not always finishing them, despite the fact that “finishing” is not always clear-cut. 

I lay on the cement sidewalk, my mind twisting and turning with what seemed like a forced life-review.  If there was an entity in the cactus I ate, it was relentless and wanted me to review and examine everything.   Should I buy a car?  What sort of job should I get to pay for that car?  Can I get such a job?  Is that what my life should really be all about?  Should I move back to a farm?  Why don’t I have a girl friend?  Should I have a companion?  Should I go back to college full-time?  Should I find and follow a guru? Have I already found my guru and am too resistant to admit it?  Should I return to Buddhism?  Or Catholicism?  And on and on and on it went, until dawn.

At first, there was an overcast grey-streaked sky, and eventually a mildly foggy morning.  I must have slept at least a little, and I woke suddenly in a frantic panic, asking too many questions, and too uneasy to answer any.  In the cool of the quiet morning, I picked a tiny scab on my arm and it bled.  I felt a psychotic panic and imagined the pain that would come if I were slashed to death by cutting.  I went into a literal cold sweat as I was experiencing both panic and incoherence.  It was very irrational.

I jumped up and splashed cold water on my face from Larry’s hose.  I walked back towards the cabin and Drew was sitting there, awake.

“I was just waiting for you to get up,” said Drew.  I thought I was waiting for him.  So we both used the bathroom, and then we went for a walk.

“Let’s go up to the monastery,” I suggested, and we walked up the streets in silence, hearing only distant cars and the sounds of our own shoes on the street.  We walked through Bailey Park and onto the grounds of the monastery’s expansive “south lawn.” 

It was dry with lots of dry grasses. Just a few plants were green, such as mustard and turkey mullein.  It was an other-worldly spiritual experience to silently walk there, on what seemed at the time very much sacred ground.  Drew got down on all fours and began to examine a turkey mullein plant.  He explained to me the floral parts of the plant, how the male flower is situated in such a way so that the pollen easily drops into the female flower.  He pulled out his botanist’s magnifying glass and had me look more closely.  With the 10-times magnification, it was as if I had entered into a private, rarely-seen world.  Drew had been to this world already and he guided me. 

Then we walked on.

I shared some of my night’s experience with Drew, who didn’t say much.  I told him about my many personal doubts. He was silent, and then he reminded me about the time he’d invited me to go on a trip with him.

“When you say yes, that means maybe, and when you say maybe, that means no,” Drew told me.  “And if you write it down it does no good, because you just lose the note” he explained in a matter-of-fact voice.

I was silent. He was right.  His words were like silent arrows into my heart.  We left the field and went back for a short walk down Carter, and Lima, over to Larry’s.  We talked sparingly, mostly about the night.  But we were both tired and even talking was tedious.  We passed an early Saturday morning yard sale and I began to examine some used archery bows for sale.  I’d long wanted to get involved in archery but hadn’t done so yet.  They had several Bear bows (and others) for sale.  Some were reasonably priced, and others seemed high for a yard sale. I held one of the bows  for the longest time looking at it, thinking about it.  Can I afford this?  Would I use it?  Where would I use it? Can I get something similar at a better price?  What about arrows?  Was there anything else that I’d need to buy?  Would I actually use this, or would it just sit around?  Is there something more important that I should use my money for? All these mental questions filled my mind.   I liked bows and archery, I told myself, or did I just like the idea of bows and archery?

“Well, are you going to buy it?” asked Drew.

I held it a bit and then began to repeat to Drew some of my inner thoughts.  I sensed he was a bit impatient.

“Do you have trouble making up your mind?” he asked.  It was a question whose answer was painfully obvious.  Was it me or was it the drug?  Or a combination?  I put the bow back on the rack and said nothing more about it as we walked back.

We went to Larry’s and eventually we each got rides home.  I was very tired that day and barely managed to do the bare essentials that were required of me.

Some time later, Drew and I talked about our experience that night. Drew wrote,

“Our trip itself was the most amazing ever as I didn't know what to expect. That we did it together was important, and made it more powerful. I felt you were leading us around to witness amazing things, and I would be lost otherwise, and I was very grateful to you.  I was at no time irritated or impatient.  My sense of time and direction had practically evaporated. Everything was new and very beautiful.

“The rest of the night I just enjoyed the wandering-about that we did, and how everything was so beautiful in the moment.  It caused me to pause and realize that my life is quite amazing if I can stop and just simply take the time to notice.

“I ate peyote a few times after, but a kind of wall had been erected because of my fear of losing my body in some kind of out-of-body experience. And because I was looking for and comparing, things did not have the same power or newness that they did on the trip that you and I  took. Later I went to Florida and got spores for Psilocbye cubensis and grew many flats of those and ate them perhaps 10 times.  I had some interesting trips, but none quite compare. Finally, I just gave it all up, but am very glad for doing it. As Alan Watts put it, when you get the message, you can just hang up the phone. I could have simply hung up the phone after our trip since I got the message. But making the call is something some people may need to do, and for that reason I feel it is not helpful to simply advise someone to don't do drugs. We have to find out things for ourselves sometimes.

“I was loving every second of our experience that night in Sierra Madre, and every second was like an eternity,” wrote Drew.

Later that night, and into the next day, I wrote down lists of my “to dos”, all the unfinished and unresolved things that plagued me.  I wrote out some action for most, regardless how simple.

The peyote cactus experience made me deeply introspective, and it was not at all “pleasurable.”  I saw my life as a near-meaningless series of chaotic and unplanned activities, leading nowhere, fulfilling no purpose either for the furtherance of my life’s goals, nor did it seem to fulfill anything in the grand scheme of the universe. 

In the next few days, I not only made the lists, but I finished some tasks, settled agreements and contracts, paid old debts, talked to people I’d always wanted or needed to talk to, sent out Thank You notes, and generally tried to tie up the loose ends of my life. I wanted to feel calm, at peace, and in a position to move forward with whatever my life was about, or going to be about.

In that sense, Father Peyote was a harsh task master who got me off my butt and into action. 

I believe I ate peyote one more time after that.  Was I in need of more punishment?  It was not a pleasant experience, with some very violent vomiting and I couldn’t wait for the effects to wear off.  I never tried it again, though I always felt that I’d seriously consider doing it in the context of a Native American Church tipi ceremony.  Years later, I was invited to such a ceremony but it was not an evening when I wanted to be awake all night examining my life in slow-motion fine detail, in the rain, in the mountains, so I declined.  In fact, during that time in 2002, I didn’t need the help of the Teacher Plant to get into my inner mind and higher Self, to seek the answers to the diverse challenges then facing me.  I needed acute clarity.

Anyway, I say: don’t do drugs!  I know I must sound like a hypocrite.  Still, there are other ways to learn the needed lessons of life, ways that do not endanger your mind or your body or your atmospheres.  Did any of my drug use damage my mind and body?  Though I’ve heard regular marijuana users say that there is no damage whatsoever from their drug use, my honest reply is “How would I know?”  I’m not specifically aware of “damage,” though brave friends have occasionally pointed out my “quirks” and tendencies, and my mostly life-long tendency to be late, and often forgetful.  Did those result from drug use?  Who can say?  I can’t say, since how can a potentially-damaged apparatus objectively analyze itself?  It cannot.

So this old memory flowed though my mind as Teresa and I sat talking about future intentions.  Memory and Intention, past and future, both occupying the same part of the brain, and both intermingling as we sat on the monastery’s vast field.

We sat in the dark for awhile, both of us quiet, thinking, with no need to talk.

While we were sitting there in the dark, we noticed a rapidly moving form passing in front of us, and then doubling back. At first I thought it was a bobcat, but then perceived it to be a coyote, probably examining a possible prey.  An hour later, there were two darting by, growling, and then one doubled back, as if to surround us.  Then a third arrived, so I knew I should make them unwelcome. I stood, and though two had instantly disappeared into the darkness, one remained. 

I said to Teresa, “Watch” and I boldly ran directly at it and it too disappeared. I was thankful that they considered us too big for dinner.  Quickly thereafter, we folded up the blanket and departed. Though I thought we had a good relationship, it did not last, and the reason for it not lasting is an entirely different story.

Enrique Villasenor: Ambassador for the Prickly Pear Cactus

Enrique Villaseñor is at the head of the classroom, extolling the many unsung virtues of the prickly pear cactus.  “It’s often referred to as poor people’s food,” he explains, “but did you know that it contains all the  essential amino acids, and some non-essential amino acids as well?”

Villaseñor is the defacto ambassador of the humble prickly pear cactus, a plant that has been used for food and medicine for millennia.

After 35 years as a school teacher, Villaseñor recently retired and now actively works as an assistant to pharmacologist  Dr. James Adams, who shares traditional Chumash healing methods.

In the two hour presentation, Villaseñor takes his audience through the fascinating history, and the vast healthful benefits, of the prickly pear cactus, beginning with the fact that cacti remnants were found in jars in Mexico dating back 10,000 years.  He explains that archaeologists have found old jars that contained not only cactus, but teosinte (the forerunner to corn), chili, amaranth, sapote, and mesquite, some of the earliest foods from this continent.

As part of his presentation, Villaseñor shares details from the historical book, “Relacion de Cabeza deVaca,” the account of Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca’s journey in the unknown interior of America.  He was one of four survivors of the 1527 Narvaez expedition. From 1527 to 1536, he wandered across the U.S. Southwest, learning from the natives about the local foods. Though he was a slave for the first two years, he became both a trader and a healer to the various tribes. He learned of the value of the nopal (aka the prickly pear cactus) from the natives and used it for scurvy, treating arrow wounds, and for stomach issues. After returning to Spain in 1537, he wrote his account of the journey, first published in 1542. Cabeza de Vaca is sometimes considered a proto-anthropologist for his detailed accounts of the many tribes of Native Americans that he encountered.

“The prickly pear cactus is one of the best immune system boosters,” says Villaseñor, quoting Hippocrates, who said “Let food be thy medicine, and let medicine be thy food.”

Historically, the prickly pear cactus pads have been used for lowering cholesterol levels, digestive issues, edema, wounds, bronchitis, fevers, vitiligo, inflammation, type II diabetes, muscle pain, urinary problems, burns, and liver problems.  Students of Villaseñor listen in awe, wondering why they have always considered the prickly pear just a food to eat when you’re next to starving, rather than the superfood it is. 

Villaseñor explains that because prickly pear was always available in good times and bad, in times of drought and plenty, it was always something that poor people could and did use, but then it came to be regarded as simply a food of last resort.

Today, however, that view is changing. Villaseñor points out that one can find hundreds of products made from the prickly pear on Amazon. This includes food and food supplements, pills for diabetes, as well as various products from the cochineal bug that is often found on the prickly pear plants. The cochineal has historically been dried and crushed to get carminic acid, and a very good red dye for clothing and even food products.

The highlight of Villaseñor’s presentation is when he turns on a food processor and makes a prickly pear drink for everyone to try.

First, he scrapes the young pads to remove the spines and the tiny hair-like glochids. He puts one large pad into the blender, and adds one apple and one peeled orange, and blends it all.  The resultant drink is thick, and so it can be thinned further with water if one prefers. Everyone enjoyed the tartness and sweetness of the drink. No sugar is ever added.

THE RECIPE:

“Agua de Nopales” -- Prickly Pear Cactus Water,  by Enrique Villaseñor:

Ingredients
1 - Prickly Pear Cactus pad (cleaned and rinsed)

1 - Peeled Orange
1 - Green Apple
2 - Cups of chilled water
1 - Ice
1 - Lime

Dice 1 Prickly Pear pad. Place in blender with 2 cups of water. Blend. Dice 1 green apple. Blend. Dice 1 peeled orange. Blend. Add additional water to taste if the smoothie is too thick for you.  Serve chilled with ice. Use lime to taste. Do not add sugar. Suggested serving is 1.5 cups 2X a day. Enjoy! 

According to Villaseñor, this is one of the best ways to get your daily intake of the prickly pear, in a form that is tasty and easy to prepare.  The benefits are that it strengthens your immune system, helps you to lose weight, and lowers your cholesterol and blood sugar.

Villaseñor adds that complete health is really about complete balance, and by “balance” he explains that each of us need to find balance physically, spiritually, socially, and financially within our community and family.  “You should work at this every day,” he explains.

Additionally, Villaseñor points out that the natural immune boosters include sleep, plant-based diet, exercise, not-smoking, having minimal stress in your life, maintaining a healthy weight, minimal alcohol consumption, maintaining healthy relationships, and avoiding infections.  Consuming prickly pear cactus daily is just one part of this overall balance.

Villaseñor shares a little about his background during his presentation.  His mother is still alive at 101 years old, and she taught him Balance in all things. “I was outside all day, always doing things outdoors,” he explains. “And when we had a problem, my mother healed us!”

Villaseñor also shares testimonials from students of his and Dr. Adams, students who have experienced lower glucose levels, improved bowel movements, weight loss, and lower cholesterol levels by consuming the prickly pear cactus drink, and other herbal remedies they teach.  

Regarding the many additives to foods today, Villaseñor advises, “If you cannot pronounce it, do not eat it!”

Villaseñor smiles as he shares an old idiom, which underscores how Mexico’s identity is tied to the nopal, or prickly pear cactus.  “Soy mas Mexicano que el nopal,” he says, which translates as “I am more Mexican than the cactus” The expression is asking, between the lines, what came first, the Mexican or the cactus, affirming the person’s pride in being Mexican.

Enrique Villaseñor can be contacted at Senornopales@gmail.com.

[Nyerges is the author of “Guide to Wild Foods,” “Foraging California,” “How to Survive Anywhere,” and other books. He leads regular field trips, and can be reached at www.SchoolofSelf-Reliance.com]

“Hiding Out in a Small Town”

During the days leading up to Y2K, when irrational panic overtook otherwise calm people, I received a phone call from a man who spoke to me in a choppy, breathy tone. 


“Christopher, can you help me?” he asked. “I need someone to help me survive Y2K.”  I didn’t know the man and had never met him.  It was the first time we’d ever talked.


The man told me that he was afraid of the impending doom, civil unrest, and the loss of everything he’s worked for. He wanted to know if I could help him dig a hole in the desert.


“Excuse me?” I asked, waiting for the punchline.


“Why would you dig a hole in the desert?”

“I’d live there,” he told me, matter of factly. The man sincerely believed that digging a hole in the desert and hiding out in some remote desert locale would be his passport to survival.


I knew that I would not be digging a hole with him in the desert, and I asked him, “Have you ever camped out at night? Ever slept in the outdoors, ever?”


“No,” he told me.


“So, what makes you think you would enjoy living in a hole.”


He told me that he wasn’t sure he would enjoy it, but that he was certain he would survive better in a hole in the desert than he would in urban San Diego when western civilization began to collapse with Y2K.  In our conversation, I learned he was affluent, ran a business, and felt that he had a lot to lose as society collapsed.  He also told me that he didn’t know any of his neighbors, and he regarded them more with fear than with friendship.


I suggested that the man get to know his neighbors.  Join some social group, or start participating in Neighborhood Watches. Get to know his actual neighbors and begin to interact with them.  But he told me that he didn’t really have time for that.


“You want to dig a hole in the desert, but you don’t have time to get to know your actual neighbors?” I asked, waiting for his response.  He was quiet, thinking about it.


“Here’s what I also suggest,” I told him. “Take a trip.  Go to the desert if you want, but drive through some of the rural towns in California, and maybe Arizona, and Nevada, and Utah.  Get to know the world beyond your little world. Stop places and have lunch in little cafes. Talk to people.  Go shopping in little stores, and talk to people.  See what makes an impression on you.  If Y2K spelled the death of western civilization, little towns take care of themselves better because that’s what they do all the time.”


The man made a few comments and said, “Yeah, I like that idea.  I might try that. I think it would be good to disappear into a small town.”


It was clear that he believed he could live in a small town and no one would know him.


“Oh, that’s not going to happen,” I told him.  “No one knows you now because you live in a big city. That’s how it is in the big city.  People don’t know each other because they want it that way, or because it’s just too big.  But in a small town, everyone knows your business and who you are, eventually.”


“Really?”  he asked.  I could tell that this man had never ventured far from the confines of his own home and business.


“Yes, really!  No one hides out in a small town. All everyone does is talk, and they will know everything there is to know about you, sooner or later, whether it is true or not.”


I told him the story of when I lived on my grandfather’s farm after high school, in a town of about 3,000 population in northeast Ohio.  My brother and I had painted the kitchen of the farmhouse with flat paint, not glossy, and one of my uncles felt that that proved we were urban idiots who didn’t know the first thing about paint.  Later, when we went to family gatherings, cousins would say, “Oh, you’re the ones who painted the kitchen with flat paint.”  In one case, a woman in a store in the town center said the same thing, as if that’s all there was to know about me!


During the next few conversations with the frightened man, he seemed increasingly calmer.  I don’t know what action he finally took because he stopped calling. 


People who have never lived in a small town probably cannot fathom a place where everyone knows your business, which can be a very negative feature. But a small town is also like a large family, and everyone realizes that their fate is tied to their neighbor.  In this sense, for the health of urban America, and the sustainability of our cities, it’s necessary to become a part of the larger community, to take action, to get involved, and to get to know your neighbors for everyone’s mutual benefit.

My Tongva Home

MY TONGVA HOME

By Christopher Nyerges


[written 011910 for the Franklin High School Mural Project presentation]







It’s winter solstice in the Valley of Smokes

I’m thinking about things under the oaks

It’s that dark time of year

When we reflect on what we’ve done

But nowadays a parade comes through

Marching bands, modern people having fun



My tribal land – now called Pasa-Adena

Is paved and housed and no more wild

Every New Year you see crowded masses

Waiting for parade with screaming child



I deep desire my tribal home

To gather acorns, dig roots in loam

To gather asphaltum where the ocean does foam

Where the deer and cougar are free to roam



I’m lost in this urban crazy sprawl

Used to have sweats, now massive mall

I strive to stand on sacred rocky spall

Call my family to ceremony, to come and stand tall



But the land is all lost, no longer my home

My heart wants to find my Tongva home

Seems I’ve been seeking it all my life long

But my mind is mixed up, and I can’t hear the song



I dream at night of my ancestral spot

To swim in the stream when the day is hot

To learn the things that my elders have taught

To be with my family, I’d like it a lot



But my Tongva land is all devoured

In my sacred land is now skyscraper tower

No traditional food, my stomach has soured

Too many elders from invaders have cowered.



It’s time to re-find my Tongva roots

It’s time to take off my restrictive boots

Its time to get out of my tie and suits

It’s time to get back to eating fish and roots



This Tongva homeland is here, now at last

I can mind-see it, as I look into past

I want to dwell in Tongva land at long last

My spirit soars when I look forward to the past



My home is heaven, but my body’s on earth

This Pasa-Adena land where I was given birth

I can’t wait to get back to my real home

I’m so tired of my civilization roam

I long to live in the sweet black loam

I’m going  back to my Tongva home.

Getting to Know DOROTHY WONG, Altadena Council Member

Getting to know this Councilwoman

Interview by Christopher Nyerges


Altadena council member Dorothy Wong is a community leader and avid bicyclist with an interesting history.


She grew up in Aiea high above the sea in the Ko'olau Mountains, above Oahu.  “In Hawaii,” she says, “the mountains are respected.  They’re regarded as gods.”  As a young girl in the islands, Wong would backpack and hike the mountains as a Girl Scout and learned to respect the power of the ocean, pointing out that everything was part of a greater story.


“In Hawaii, through traditional education, lore, and daily life, we were reminded of the power of the mountains as sacred, and the ocean as respected places.  Of course, many people who don't respect it, can die!  This is all part of the Hawaiian lore -- Madam Pele', the volcano goddess, for example.  And the land is respected as resources for the people.  The irony of it all, as modern times-tourism and big city life and overtaking of the Hawaiian ‘Kingdom’ led the way to the Hawaiian Constitutional Convention in 1978 and today's renaissance with activism to protect Mauna Kea,” she explains.


Wong came to the mainland for school, and wanted to be involved in media and music as a career, so she majored in TV production at Loyola Marymount University in Los Angeles.  During college, she worked multiple jobs getting around by transit and bicycle until she could afford a car.  She also worked on a documentary film project about orcas in captivity, and then moved on full time into TV work as production supervisor-associate director) for 20 years. She often bicycled from Burbank to her job in Hollywood leaving her car at home. “Bicycling was a great therapy to get outside,” she says, as her job required her to sit for long hours confined in the studio.  A cameraman told her that she’d probably like mountain bikes, and showed her a flier about Big Bear Bicycling.  Wong purchased her first ever mountain bike in 1995 and never looked back.


She spent the next 15 years organizing numerous bicycle events and racing her bicycle, winning multiple national medals.  “My love of athleticism played right into this,” explained Wong, who adds “It changed my life when I became a pro-mountain biker.”


By 2005, says Wong, “I thought, what’s next?” and she learned about the League of American Bicyclists (formerly the Wheelmen).  She got certified as an instructor in Washington D.C.  “I was working in TV, and the sport of cyclocross required me to do multi-tasking. I was a professional multi-tasker,” she laughs.   She’s also become a LCI certified league cycling instructor.   “I became an advocate now for bicycling safety,” said Wong, who notes that she’s seen many friends of hers injured or sadly killed in collisions that could have been prevented with safer complete streets.

Because of her certification, she worked for Metro LA as a bicycle safety advocate.  She teaches bicycle safety to adults in the San Gabriel Valley, spending about 60 days out of the year teaching bicycle safety.


Wong points out that she learned about advocacy when she became a board member for CalBike, and she was more involved in legislation advocacy.  She was also involved with Nature for All Leadership Academy protecting public lands, create community and connect underserved populations to nature, which is a coalition of organizations. 

“I learned how to lobby for the causes I believe in, thanks to these organizations, and then I met Tim Brick of the Arroyo Seco Foundation,” she recalls, where she began to go on the California water tours. Wong states that she realized that it’s the politicians who have the power to change things. “I’ve always wanted to know why things are the way they are,” stated Wong, and with her advocacy work she’s gained a practical insight into the workings of politics. 


These interests dovetailed with her becoming a councilwoman for Altadena’s 4603.01 Census tract district, the seat she currently holds.  


“It was a natural progression for me to put on bicycle events,” says Wong.  “Remember, you can’t get anything done without getting the community behind you. What’s wrong with politics today is that they don’t get the community behind them first.  For me, it’s necessary for my work to be a good community organizer. As a bicyclist who gets marginalized, I have to stand up for bicyclists who get hit or killed.”


Wong started a traffic safety and mobility committee of the Town Council prioritizing safe routes to schools and to get people thinking about human powered ways to get around town, and to encourage biking and other sources of transportation.


“For me, the bicycle really tied into so many things that there is a need to advocate for, like being healthier, going to work, not having to use a car, and being a part of the environmental solution,” she says. 


Wong points out that her discovery of the Arroyo Seco began as a bicyclist, and through the bicycle she discovered Altadena, and the Arroyo Seco, and the San Gabriel Mountains, and Hahamongna.  It’s also how she met her husband.


She’s been actively involved with Tim Brick’s Arroyo Seco Foundation in the efforts to reduce the scale of the L.A. County’s “Big Dig” of the Hahamongna Watershed Park north of Woodbury Road, and to reduce the number of trees that are still slated to be cut down.

“Trees  benefit the health of our bodies and our environment in many ways, and it doesn’t matter if the tree is native or non-native. It’s best to be mindful of what we are doing with all these projects locally, and look at how they benefit us today and in our life. Some of the projects might seem to be mindful, but they destroy so much now for the presumed long-term benefit, and too many of these agencies are doing their own thing.”


She points out that with so many trees gone in Hahamongna north of Woodbury, “the magic is gone, and I  don’t go there as much anymore.  I went there to feel the magic, which is something innate in all of us, that desire to feel close to nature. We need to restore balance, and it doesn’t necessarily have to be all native, because the bees go to the mustard too, and the birds make nests in the eucalyptus and ash trees.  Plus, have you heard the sounds of a rich forest.  That’s not there anymore since they took all the trees out.”

“It’s really important in all these things that we work together, and be mindful of each other, take time to breathe, and not rush too quickly. If we really look at things a little deeper, then I know we can come up with sustainable solutions. Much of that information comes directly from the observation and study of nature, and from the Indigenous peoples’ understanding of nature. That’s the balance that I want to bring back,” she states. 

"Foraging California," second edition just released.

SECOND EDITION OF  CHRISTOPHER NYERGES’ “FORAGING CALIFORNIA”

 JUST RELEASED

Christopher Nyerges’ first book for Falcon Guides, “Foraging California,” has just been released in a 
revised second edition.


The latest edition of the book includes 16 more pages, and a section on Mushroom identification, with only a few of the most common, easy-to-identify mushrooms included. 

Lots of pictures of people in this second edition, mostly while processing or gathering some of the wild foods.  Kevin Sutherland is shown with oyster mushrooms, Angelo Cervera is grinding acorns and Vicki Chiu is showing some cherry seeds.  There are also pictures of the processing of plants, such as the drying of nettles, or the drying of cactus pads. 

There is a nutritional chart in the front of the book showing the nutrient value of many of the common wild foods.  Included in the second edition is a chart showing that acorns are indeed a quality food, and that prickly pear – with all its essential and non-essential amino acids – can be called a superfood.

The Second Edition includes additional photos by Lily Jane Tsong, as well as photos from Christopher, and from Rick Adams.


Though “Foraging California” is primarily a book about edible plants, there are some other uses mentioned, such as medicinal uses, and plants used for soap or rope.  Also, since many of the plants listed are fairly widespread, people from other states have told us that they find the book useful there also.


 “Foraging California” includes mostly non-native plants, because these so-called weeds are routinely killed off by gardeners and farmers using weedwhackers, plows and poisons, and yet most of the common weeds are good food and medicine.   Some of the “invasive” plants turn out to be some of the most nutritious plants in the world, such as lamb’s quarter (poor man’s quinoa, and a rich source of minerals), purslane (highest plant source of Omega 3 fatty acids), and dandelion and its many relatives.  These are all described in “Foraging California.”


Paul Campbell (author of “Survival Skills of Native California”) write in the Foreword, “This amazing book catalogues in clear, direct language the full range of wild edible plants found in California… Christopher’s lifetime of dirt-time experience makes him an expert on the edible and nutritious properties of this wonderful flora, so easily overlooked but at our disposal everywhere. I have followed Christopher on endless plant walks and never failed to learn something new and important. Now, at last, it’s all in one brilliant guide.”



“Foraging California” is available from bookstores, from Amazon, and from the School of Self-Reliance.

Dharma, Karma, Reincarnation, and One Student's Doubts

[Excerpt from "Searching for the Meaning of Life in the City of Angels," available from Kindle]

During an ongoing weekly study on the Mahabharata, led by Shining Bear, we delved into the meanings of karma, dharma, justice, and reincarnation.

Shining Bear attempted to clarify one of the major points of the Mahabharata, specifically the conversation with Arjuna and Krishna, the part of the major work which is generally called the Bhagavad-Gita. In that conversation, Arjuna is looking for a way to avoid an impending war.  Arjuna was told that the only real choice is to do your dharma.  That is, do what you must in your station in life, and do what you must based on your past choices, that is, your karma.  There was a distinction made between the two types of dharma: spiritual-dharma, and karma-dharma. 

“So,” said Shining Bear, “when we speak of the karma-dharma, it refers to those actions that you are have no choice but to do in order to rectify or balance your past choices.  Yes, you can try to avoid this balancing, but some day, in some way, Justice will demand balance.  You can do it willingly, or you can let Justice carve it out of your life, at a time that is not convenient to you, usually very painful.”

Shining Bear then attempted to delineate again that our real work in life should be to do our spiritual-dharma, the work that moves us ahead.  Our karma-dharma work is necessary, but it is catchup.  “Still, you cannot avoid your karma-dharma.  If you try to avoid it, you will eventually still have to find that balance, in this lifetime or in a future embodiment.”

 A student, Joe, who was present spoke up and said, “This is all pretty interesting. But I don’t believe in the reincarnation part.  You can’t prove any of that.”

“For starters, are you aware that close to 80% of the world’s population believes in reincarnation, in some form?” responded a different student.

Joe quickly retorted, “That’s not proof.”

A long discussion ensued about what much of the world believes, and why.

For example, why are some people born with incredible talents, like being able to play piano at age 4.  Conversely, why are some people born into such dreadful conditions?    “IF we live multiple lives, and if Justice does operate in the world, doesn’t this explain a lot?” asked another student.

Joe was silent.

             

“Keep in mind,” added Shining Bear, “your opinion of how the universe operates in no way affects the universe’s operation.”

After much more discussion – it would take too long to share it all in this format --  Shining Bear looked at me and said,  “We only have a little more time for today, but are you willing to share your own past life glimpses?”  I felt “on the spot.”   I proceeded to share two stories..

“About 20 years ago,” I began, “I was experiencing great conflict in my life.  I was overwhelmed with what I should do, and what choices I should make.  In fact, the conflict had to do with whether or not I wanted to stay close to Shining Bear. I was very challenged by his demands, and I seriously considered moving somewhere else and dropping any further involvement.  At the time, my life seemed to be in chaos, and my involvement with Shining Bear seemed very valuable, but seemed to eat up every single second of my time, and I had very little to show for it in a material sense.  Anyway, I sat outside one day on the hill, staring towards the setting sun, wondering what to do.  While fully conscious, with eyes open, I saw this clearing in the forest.  There was this large tipi there, which I believed to be the medicine lodge where the elders gathered.  I had my back to the tipi, and I was walking away.  I felt shamed in some way.  The feeling was that I had been tested, and did not do well. I would have to work horrendously hard to keep up, and though I wanted to be a part of the lodge more than anything, I just didn’t think I could do it.  The setting seemed like a few hundred years ago.  It felt like it was up in the Northeastern U.S.  At the time, I felt that I had been in this emotional state before, this state of uncertainty, and this state of possibly leaving and going somewhere else.  The scene that opened-up to me was a glimpse of that very same moment in a past life, when I had a difficult choice to make.”  I stopped, and everyone was silent. 

“And the other experience?” asked Shining Bear.

I continued.  “OK,   the other one took place while I was seated in the cave, and it was around the same time.  There were several people present for a meeting to discuss the various ramifications when Mariana (a close student of Shining Bear) choosing to suddenly depart, and sever her connections to Shining Bear.  Some of her family members were there, as were several of the close associates of Shining Bear.  Mariana had been very instrumental in unifying everyone, and providing the cohesiveness to move forward many of our projects.  Now she was gone.  One woman was crying openly. Others were upset, sad, confused. 

“We were all wondering what fate would befall her, and how we all should best carry on.  Shining Bear asked someone to play Pachebel’s Canon in D Major on the record player.  He turned it on loud, and we were all taken on a most dynamic musical journey. It was my first time hearing it and it was an incredible experience to listen to that classic song.  And while I sat there, looking upward at the ceiling, fully awake, a scene opened up to me.   At first I saw only the sands of the desert.  I knew I was somewhere in Egypt, a very long time ago.  I was standing by the side of a road in a very dry and barren place. There were stone or clay buildings of a town in the southern distance.  A man rode by on an elephant, and I knew he was departing to another place.   There was a small caravan of followers and supplies.  As he rode by, he paused and looked at me, but said nothing.  I looked into the deepness of his eyes and I knew it was the Shining Bear persona.  I felt overwhelmed with inner conflict.  He was departing and it would have been my best choice to leave with him and study with him.  But whatever for forces were in my life, they kept me unable to move.  I stood there, sullen, frozen, and then he turned away and they rode off into the desert.  I was with a friend, and I sensed that we traveled south to that city, and lived a short life.”

Again, everyone was silent, and I said, “That’s it.”

“Interesting,” said Joe.  As he looked at me, though, his face said that he believed I was just making it all up.

“Very interesting,” said Joe, “and it really makes me think about it.  I’m not exactly saying I disagree with you.  I’m just saying, there’s still no proof.  Even with all these stories.  I’ll think about it all, but I still see no reason to believe in reincarnation.”

Laughing Bear asked, “What exactly would you accept as proof?”

Joe quickly said, “Well, no one really knows what happens after you die.  No one has ever come back to tell us about what happens after death.”

This caused instant laughter among half the participants.

When the ruckus died down, Big Bear (no relation to Shining Bear) said, “How do you know that?  Lots of people have talked about past lives, and having died and come back to life, and having interacted with ghosts.  But what happens? Our biased, body-mind driven media labels them all as hoaxes, quacks, liars.  Why would a sincere person expose themselves to such indignity?”  After a pause, Big Bear added, “What you’re really saying – and this is really OK – is that you, personally, have no knowledge of the afterlife.  That is OK.  We’re trying our best to open your eyes.”

No one had anything more to add, and Shining Bear began putting away his papers that he carried to our gathering spot under the huge arching tree.  We never did get to the lesson about the Brahman Chronology and the description of the vast periods of time in a Maha Yuga.

As there was nothing to be gained by trying to convince anyone about anything, especially if they clearly assert their opinion or belief in something else. Shining Bear continued to pack up as others did likewise.

“Remember,” said Shining Bear, “that our opinion of how the universe operates does not affect the universe continuing to so operate.”

Joe retorted with an air of authority, saying  “Truth is never established by proclaiming it.”

“Ahhh,” said Shining Bear, as he got up and walked away.