Like many of my friends, my pal Mommy S likes to visit a place in Hollywood we call The Farm. It’s a small garden, actually, where our dear buddy M plants his organic fruit, vegetables, and weed. She enjoys hanging with her gorgeous toddler son in the garden, absorbing the gentle vibrations of life. Mommy S also likes the organic cannabis that our friend M grows — she’s on the record as declaring it her “favorite ganja in America” — and M always sends her on her way with a care package, just as I do for all my friends in search of a lovingly tended tomato or a carefully cultivated cucumber. It’s our pleasure to give from our gardens!
This past weekend, Mommy S turned up at my home with her whole family. She was bearing a freshly baked vegetarian rice casserole and what I soon would discover was an amazingly complex vegan spicy squash soup. She said, “We want to give, too. Not just take.”
Shortly thereafter, another dear friend, upon seeing the extraordinary yield of my backyard harvest, counseled me to sell the excess vegetables at the Farmers Market in Hollywood. His advice was for our pal M to do the same with his excess bud: sell it to the medical marijuana collective he’s registered with.
Both viewpoints have merit. But I’ve decided that organic vegetables and homegrown marijuana are something Good, a salutary and comforting gift to the human body and mind. They should be shared freely, like love and kindness.
As I’ve grown older, I’ve become increasingly mistrustful of market capitalism and profit-taking. I find myself yearning for organizational structures that appeal to our innate sense of community and cooperation, not our greed. Wouldn’t it be interesting if we all provided our neighbors with things they really need rather than disposable dreck that’s mostly the product of manufactured demand? Some call it bartering. My concept is perhaps better called “voluntary sharing.”
The idea is: I want to share my organic vegetables with my friends; M wants to share his organic weed with his friends. I want to share my love. And I’m hopeful that my friends will find, like Mommy S, something that they feel happy about sharing with me and my pesco-vegetarian family. I’m not talking about bringing us a wrapped present or a bottle of wine — unless they made it themselves, or brought it back from a special trip, or had some sort of powerful association that they wanted to celebrate. I’m talking about that which comes from everyone’s beautiful soul, the creations that are uniquely us. Like Mommy S’s splendid soup.
Therefore, I hereby announce that my sensational Vista Street Farm [Trademark pending] organic harvest is not for sale. You can’t buy it. Indeed, I don’t want any of my friends to ever again buy what I can grow for them for free. There’s really no reason to. When someone needs a taste and I’ve got extra, I’ll be there for them.
I want us all to be there for each other. That’s my dream.
Let’s start with vegetables and cannabis and see where it leads.