Trading Basic Needs for Freedom

I walked into the courtroom with my ankles shackled and wrists bound to a belly chain. There was a deputy on either side of me but my 11-year-old daughter caught us all by surprise and nimbly jumped onto me for a hug. I held her tight in spite of the chains and we smiled at each other. For a tiny, beautiful moment, I forgot about the 53-year prison sentence I was facing.

Judge Grace Duran sentenced me to 18-1/2 years in state prison. As they escorted me out of the court room, my daughter stood in front once more with a beaming smile. She didn’t know the deputies intentionally blocked her and she tried getting around them a few times, before the realization crept in. Her smile melted, dripping with confusion. I begged the deputies to let me hold her one last time, but they shuffled me out quickly and seared onto my memory an image of my daughter left behind, crying and confused.

The meaning of “freedom” was given to me in grade school. I’d pledge allegiance to our flag every day and was programmed to believe that I was as free as any human being can be. That idea changed after they locked me in a cinder block cell slightly bigger than a broom closet — for many, many years.

After awhile, I quit lamenting the isolation. I forced myself to shut off the TV set and commit to a routine; I’d rise, do my bed and start with pacing, back and forth, four steps at a time. That would invigorate me and lead to exercise. I’d take a sink bath and spend the rest of my day being constructive — reading, writing, drawing, thinking… And even when I was absolutely alone, in the prison hole, I’d find myself truly enjoying my one hour outdoors in the chainlink recreation cage, where I’d leisurely muse and contemplate at length.

When they spit me out of prison, I imagined myself being like Lazarus from the Bible — waking up from death. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I wasn’t truly freed, simply resurrected to an alternate reality where things were not as they should be. Living in prison for decades had trained me to recognize population management, surveillance and shackles, even if disguised…

My heart was broken by the systemic destruction and the zombie-like existence of my fellow beings. Public resources were fenced off and metered, leveraged for profit by an elite few. People were tactfully pitted against each other, waving colorful patriotic flags while killing each other. Exploitation was infectious and inciting hordes to join in the festivities. Was this really the free world I longed for in prison? I started missing the freedom I had to think while imprisoned.

An acquaintance suggested I file for disability. He’d been in prison and was getting by on a disability check, food stamps and housing. I applied and waited, doubting as the days trickled by, that I’d be approved. I wanted to share with my daughter that I was emotionally distressed with the manner of life out here. That everything was twisted, broken and managed by an elite few. She was driving and without malice, asked me, “Did you ever stop to think that maybe there’s something wrong with you?”

She’d grown and had her life figured out. She didn’t need me anymore. Her puzzle was complete and I was an extra piece that didn’t really fit in. I was failing miserably out here and like a tortoise, wanted to hide in a shell, my cell. I started to think, “What can I do to go back to prison?”…

I was at a friend’s house when I found out my SSI disability request had been approved. There was a huge check with some back pay and I snuck off to a dark room in Kat’s house — to cry. I cried a long time, grateful because I knew I’d easily manage that monthly check. I didn’t have to engage the world and could live like my homie did — lay low and survive.

The pressure to participate in the Ferrets-Ville of USA was gone. I basically kept to myself and rarely left my apartment. My friend Joseph Clark would invite me to gatherings, asking me to socialize, but I was terrified. My relentless brother from prison eventually talked me into showing up for a small gathering and that’s where I met Naomi. My life took another turn.

Not long into our relationship, we found out there was a baby on the way. I was ecstatic and for the first time in my life, I felt like I had a family of my own to fend for. I stayed up all night typing up a resume and cover letter, aware that I was going to need more than a disability check with a baby on the way. That next day, early in the morning, is when I met Brett Off while looking for a job.

Brett is a low-voltage electrical contractor. He talked me into joining the Independent Electrical Contractors Apprenticeship Program. Then, in spite of my dozen felonies, he hired me! I love construction so it was great to work alongside noble, thoughtful people while forging a decent living. They were patient and set good examples for me. I learned to temper my attitude in new fashions. Soon thereafter, I was off disability and my daughter was born. I named her Esperanza; that’s Spanish for “hope.”

My life was good except for two things. Once more I had to shuffle off to work long hours, leaving my crying daughter behind. And being in a relationship was stressful; I’d never had to accommodate anyone before. I was good at taking care of myself but, I was floundering when it came to Naomi.

I flipped on my mountain bike one day while riding the trails in Doña Ana and tore my left shoulder socket and clavicle. Thankfully, Brett gave me unemployment. After six months though, the checks stopped and I underwent a second surgery. My meager bank account waned and once more I started stressing to provide for basic needs. It was during that year that my relationship faltered and my life crumbled — once more…

I’d fiend for meaning while suffocating in bouts of depression. I was lame with a useless shoulder, suicidal and failing miserably in Ferrets-Ville, USA. It was during this stressful scramble for subsistence that ideas from my engineering days at NMSU surfaced, and I started looking into off-grid, sustainable living. I wanted a measure of freedom and space, like I had in prison, and I wondered if somehow I could find an ingenious way to provide for my family’s basic needs.

I started researching sustainable off-grid homes. Dwellings built to provide for conventional, basic needs like electricity, heating, cooling, water, and waste — without being connected to utilities. They take into account the short- and long-term impact on Mother Earth, which is crucial because our children will need these resources to survive and be healthy. These ideals are what led me to the Earthship Biotecture in Taos, New Mexico.

Michael Reynolds spent years of his life developing self-sustainable homes. He’s the visionary behind Earthships. He’s also the founding father of the Earthship Biotecture in Taos, NM. After watching his documentary, “Garbage Warrior,” I decided to investigate Earthships in person. I booked a stay in the Lemuria Earthship and checked in with my family during mid-February, 2015. That night, the temperature dropped 20º below freezing. I didn’t know because inside the Lemuria, I was reading next to a garden while my children ran around barefoot — in muscle shirts.

Earthships are sustainable sanctuaries designed to be in communion with Mother Earth. Physics, thermodynamics, and recycled materials are cleverly merged to build a utopic dwelling for human beings. Thick, steel-belted adobes insulate the habitat while rain water is harvested, purified, and processed to nourish the occupants and their crops. Passive and photovoltaic solar systems deliver healthier, quiet, yet fruitful homes equipped to provide for all of the occupants’ basic needs and modern day amenities. The best part is they they eliminate the recurring monthly bills.

After my experience in a Taos Earthship, I dusted off my beleaguered optimism and re-calibrated my steps toward freedom. They’ve led me to people that share my budding awareness for our potential. I couldn’t afford the Earthship Biotecture but I talked about it so much that when an Earthship construction project started in Tularosa, NM, several friends were quick to share that information with me. That’s how I met Ryan Timmerman, Ashley Baker, Ludmila Santana, Zack Baldassare, and Kaitlyn Wattle — at Fiddler’s Green.

They’d all completed a course at the Earthship Biotecture and were now camped out in the Fiddler’s Green. They were building an Earthship on a parcel of land that Daniel and Amy Josefosky opened up to Ted Brinegar and Darron Williams of Foxhole Homes. Both of these non-profit organizations are determined to help recover, heal and shelter homeless veterans. After hearing about their mission, I decided to volunteer myself and drove to Alamogordo one day out of my week.

Everything we need to exist as free beings is provided by Mother Earth. Her iron flows through our veins and like any mother, she wants us all to thrive and prosper. For some, it’s difficult to endure the Ferrets-Ville demands of society and consequently litter our streets like debris. Others are gathered and fenced in with fear, managed with rations of bread, water and TV.

Me? I quit my job and its promised security several years ago. It was difficult because my family’s needs are dependent on my pay and my coworkers are an endearing bunch, but I had to chase life on my terms. I got a residential contractor’s license and named my company Earthling Ingenuity.

I’m still not entirely free. I have monthly obligations like a mortgage, taxes and utilities to pay. I mostly hang out alone even though I have really good friends. I’m am blue to the core and cry occasionally, grateful for what I have and sad that so many have curled up and quit. I’m privileged to have hard-working parents who love me and taught me the value of work. I get off my ass everyday, make my bed, and get to work. And even though I’m not as free as I’d like to be, I hold on to hope — determined to make basic needs, available for the masses.

This coming March, I’ll be testing for my electrical contractor license. I will also begin to focus on the construction of Firefly, an Earthship type home nestled off of Serenity Avenue in Akela Flats. Beth and Bill have entrusted my company, Earthling Ingenuity, to build their Rammed Earth Sustainable Home. And even though I don’t exactly feel like I’m a free man yet, I’m not buried alone in a prison cage anymore. Now I’m surrounded by thoughtful, spirits–daring earthlings that really do believe in liberty, love, justice, and hope, for All.

Sincerely,

Daedalus