On Names

Names do not replace knowing the one behind it, the being within the surface tagged.

Many know me as Eco, but many hear Echo. My parents named me Devin Kyle, poet of the narrows.

Names evoke, address, summon. They are each named one’s mantra, most often heard word.

Ellis Island invented many names, including my last name: Irby, Eire Beire, for Irish cow farmers.

Names deceive when they replace our truth, challenge us to arrive at the depiction they present.

Once arriving at maturity, we in fact are a different person, as we become increasingly self-directed.

Names given to me through recognition, refuge & initiation speak to various aspects of my being.

‘Eco’ stems from “Oikos” (ancient Greek: ‘inhabited’ or ‘home’) as to note where my life lives, in me.

‘Karma Cherap Tarchin’ is Tibetan for discernment (which has gone to the end and back again).

‘Anihota Turtle Hawk’ addresses me as a burning winged heart, to abide still, until swooping swiftly.

‘Fayaz’ was given to me by living transmission from Pir Zia, translated means “emanating splendor.”

When people ask me “What is your real name?” I feel the violence of colonial presumption. Often I remember to question “What is this person’s motive?” before giving them the answer they think they want, as though what I told them to call me was any more or less real. If it is to get to know me, I try to rephrase their wording in my head, before answering, else retaliating with some dis-placating answer…

Would you like a box to keep me in, for your head? Does my Social Security number suffice? Do birth certificates make your birth real? Did your parents catch your spirit and embody it, even remembering to wrap you in the proper packaging? What do you wish to imply by calling the way I gave for you to call me unreal?

Reality is what we make it. And some choose to make it a constant reduction to singular answers, and such petty patterns will urk me to no end, lest I best them with a simple complex, an orangutan wrench or some other modifier of a drive to force everything and everyone into “Given” and “Christian” names, as though my next reality were less significant than all that came before it, as though nothing was lost in tacking “English” names on top of the rich complex reality each urchin under the Sun actually has going on, in the mad trend to blend and make sure that all others are doing so as well.
When people ask me “Where do you live?” I again feel violence, of As one who has often wandered, and found home to be a delightful variable, a delicious intimacy of potential shared enclaves, caves opening upon wonders, right behind the main drag of any given public zone, opening on to all the privates… and I

When people ask me “What do you do?” this pang continues. This “what business is it of yours?” This “couldn’t you find a more creative way to ask about me?” What do you really wish to know? Ask that.

I feel a passion for the nameless, the unspeakable, in each named and unnamed entity. Our knowing only improves and deepens the Mystery inherent in each Being, it does not kill or replace it, lest we fall into the trap of self-deception a Name so easily offers…. “Here, IT is THIS (end of story).

The cat is not less mysterious because you have a name for it. What is it’s world? How does it see, feel, know, operate? What gifts will arise with the right kind of ‘soft focus’— where we do pay close attention, we know what can be known and leave space for what cannot, for where else do miracles live? The Tao that can be named is not the true Tao. Our communications deepen when we are respectful of the complexities abiding behind our names, words and other spells.

Arc 38, Autonomous Resilient Community, was named on my birthday, 2012 so that a new form could be made by those who choose to carry this vision forward, to live in harmony with nature in support of the Movement, adjacent to the last train stop from Grand Central, at the Heart and Hub of the New Fertile Crescent. These amazing acres would no longer be referenced only in relation to me, or to Bill Henry, or by the vague placeholders of The Farm, but by what it would best become as many choose to arrive and contribute with their own capacity for dreaming awake Utopia, or the best approximation they are ready to make real, and together we hope to fulfill these unique founders’ aspirations, for an exceptional, principled community to form and do great things.

The Tao te Ching (and the Celestine Prophecy and many others) were practically required reading for participants at that time, and so when a friend had a shirt with 38 written on it, the one with a copy read the 38th Verse from Lao Tsu. Prompted by a vision of tracing an arc of progress, sharing the basics of life as a basic principle of sacred hospitality in a living lineage that extends far ahead and behind us as pass through this existence, as holders of names and bodies, of patterns and places kept so as to galvanize the purpose of the people drawn to project themselves through this collective threshold of manifesting ourselves aloft on this boat of progress, of post-oppositionalism, of being careful namers and droppers of names, but not to take them, or ourselves, too seriously in the process.


It seems my immersion in front-line activism led me into an accidental invention of a new style.

No more awkward middle-length hair, no more hair cuts, masking my immense bulging bare forehead, or trying to “add body” to my wispy-thin, easily-oily hair. Never before have I had a dread, nor ever do I need another option for this dead stuff that emerges from my skull.

A novel solution for male pattern baldness, combined with not wanting to cut one’s hair often, is a top knot one never takes out. As with the vow of the Bodhisattva, or the life of a samurai, there is no going back. As with an awakening moment, of seeing one’s purpose in the blink of an eye—
I decided to put my hair up and sleep in Zuccotti park. I did not plan on what happened next, this growing antennae, ‘hippie horn’ or “beaver tail.” I slipped a feather in the hair-tie I kept there, one finds many on the sidewalks of Manhattan once one is looking and the feather stayed there too, still with me to this day.

There lies Zuccotti Park, a flat otherwise unremarkable plot right betwixt the Casino of Futures (Wall Street’s stock exchange) and the Panopticon’s Hoax (the Orwellian named “Freedom Tower”) being built at break-neck speed to replace the asbestos-ridden World Trade Center complex, with perpetual falling water left behind so we must “never forget” that some forces at the top found it necessary to sacrifice over 3,000 Americans and a million Iraqis to make this whole expensive Terror War believable— where we gathered in protest of such corrupt deception by the über-powerful.

I brought quite a few items of import with me into the community that perched itself as close as it could to the Powers that Be. My massage table. The Alex Grey poster of Gaia for which I built a custom frame. Statues of Green Tara and Kuan Yin. Portable chairs, a quality backpack, camcorders, art and so many items of relevance and potence in communicating the impossibly obvious. MLK’s “Where do we go from Here, Chaos or Community?” A little handcloth I would lay out on the cement before doing a headstand. Once my dread had formed, I found that I didn’t need it anymore— I had the cushion for my scalp and a portable mop for the sweat which so quickly forms and flows into my eyes or down my face, or else ends up on my sleeve or some disposable Koch-produced waste product that was once a forest or other woody habitat, typically. This thick patch of hair already proving useful…

When I first started residing between the stone benches, just under Joie de Vivre, I had just enough length for my strands to meet in the middle, near the pinnacle crown of my cranium. By the end of our nearly two month’s together, all of us who lived there were forever changed. Many of us affirmed in our life’s mission, to be part of a great Correcting Course, which must happen for humanity to survive much beyond this generation. The patterns of action we participate in are crucial, in setting the tone and tempo, making possible what must come to be, in order for those who come next to know how to proceed. The world is coming awake, aware of itself as an integral whole, and it is happening in our lifetime. OWS was an undeniable emergence of this global culture of compassion, truth and one human family, transcending the barriers, false binaries and staged battles that have kept us from our Destiny.

My lasting physical reminder of that time in the eye of the storm is this mono-dread of hair, now four years in length. Much thicker and more fun than what I have to work with otherwise. Little children, instead of pointing and saying “He’s Bald!” have much more pause and joy in their eyes, which often widen. In the past few years, I have had more people (mostly younger girls) come up to me and say, quite sincerely— “I love your hair!” and “That is the best ‘do I have ever seen!” It is rather hard to get people to admit they are looking at you, walking down the streets in NYC. But when I go with no top-covering, the full dread up in a loop or otherwise sticking up and prominent, I turn heads. Hipsters in clubs saying “Nice hat, man!” before realizing the actual situation going on up here on my head. Even a few older fellows looking as though they were wagering whether they could pull off this unique look themselves.

Now it tucks alongside my beard or folds discretely back when not in a more prominent placement. It has served as a means to hold and wrap as I go about life as the Nomad Professor, and I offer it as a practical playful solution to an otherwise “less than” attractive or ideal situation many men find themselves in.

Medicine Wheel project for the Land Here

In the sacred tradition of the iconoclast, for those whose visions and Spirit were ahead of their times— we are caught up! Let us be realized, at any stage of personality, through all the cycles of life. There has been call for building a lasting set of interconnected sacred spaces here in Wassaic.

Please evaluate this proposal from our neighboring Brother, Lightning Heart, who invites us:

“Here’s a Diagram of the proposed Wheel. Usually each person brings a stone and chooses which place they would like to put it on. A diagram can be drawn out on the land with flour or lime to mark the spots. There is a defined order to place the stones in which I will try to get printed.
Let your folks dance with this picture for a while and decide how you want to proceed. There is value in personalizing it and also value in the continuity of preserving tradition.”

Sun Bear's Medicine Wheel

Here’s Sun Bear’s description of the Vision he had:

In my vision I saw a hilltop bare of trees. There was a soft breeze blowing and the prairie grass was moving gently. Then I saw a circle of rocks that came out like spokes of a wheel. I knew that what I was seeing in my vision was the sacred circle of life, the sacred hoop of my people.
Inside of the center circle was the buffalo skull, and coming up through ravines, from the four directions, were what looked like animals. As they came closer, I saw that they were people wearing headdresses and animal costumes. They moved to the circle and each group entered it sunwise, making a complete circle before they settled on their place in the wheel.
First people came to the place of the North, to the winter, the time of resting for ourselves and the Earth Mother, the place that represents the time when we have the white hairs of snow upon our heads, when we prepare to change both worlds and forms. Then there were those who ended up in the East, the place of awakening, of birth and of spring, the place representing mankind’s birth and beginning. Next came those who would represent the South, thetime of summer, the years of fruitfulness and of rapid growth. Then there were people who came to the West, the time of fall, when we reap our harvest, when we have found the knowledge needed to center ourselves. The West is the home of the West Wind, Father of all of the Winds.
All of the people were singing the song of their season, of their minerals, of their plants, of their totem animals. And they were singing songs for the healing of the Earth Mother. A leader among them was saying, “Let the medicine of the sacred circle prevail. Let many people across the land come to the circle and make prayers for the healing of the Earth Mother. Let the circles of the Medicine Wheel come back”.
In this vision were gathered people of all the clans, of all the directions, of all the totems, and in their hearts they carried peace. That was the vision I saw.

¡¿ What Feel You, Family ?!

Refuge– exodus from opposition

Where Occupy had the gall to sound the Call,

Reclaim has the chance to avoid conflict and change the game.

Occupy your life, no matter were you where a year ago…

Come join us next Thursday November 15 Onward…

Exoddus: Celebrating Liberty Square and Building the Future
  • Arc38, 426 Old Route 22, Wassaic, Amenia, NY
    -Remembering the raid on Liberty Square and celebrating an entire year of persistence and resilience
    -Sharing and healing of our last moments at the park
    -Transitioning into building a future we want to see
    -Debriefing on Arc38, Reclaim, Transition Towns, Occupy Farms, permaculture, the local Wassaic Community Farm, Omega, bioregional food networks, and other progressive projects

    -Creating the networks for the future we build
    -Discussing the establishment of Arc38’s Co-op/Free Store as a model for the transition into the new economy*possible coordination for video conference to plug into the event for those outside the tri-state area



Sustainable Tomorrow…Today!

An article published in Nature the other day made rounds in the mainstream media informing the online world that Earth had reached a “tipping point” in regards to the future of climate. We’ve exploited so much of the planet’s surface and destroyed enough of the land that scientists are sounding alarms no longer just about the extinction of tigers and salmon, but rather the human race itself in the next century. Depending on which way we “tip,” i.e. our next actions regarding our overly consumptive and apathetically destructive lifestyle, we can either find ourselves in a sustainable paradise living in harmony with nature with peace n’ love for all, or we can propel to a Hellish environmental collapse. Apocalypse is avoidable though, if we act smart now.

Most people are overwhelmed and bored when they hear environmental doomsayers reciting the laundry list of how we’re killing the planet and ourselves: depleted fisheries, carbon emissions, deforestation, chemical pollution, and shrinking oil reserves. Many books have been written on all of these topics and more, and if you’re interested, please educate yourself. If you’ve been burying your head in the sand in regards to all of these problems, then please knock the sediment out of your ears and listen up.

This is a real crisis, and real solutions are being developed. Here at ARC38 a group of Occupy Wall Street protestors, weary from shouting ourselves hoarse about the problems strangling society while being beaten by riot police and shunned by mainstream media and culture, have turned constructive. We’re building a sustainable habitat for humans; a community, a learning center, and a farm. We farm utilizing the natural landscape for permaculture farming, we drink and bathe from rainwater fed into a catchment system, and we celebrate ourselves through arts and fun and all the parts of life that leave you feeling wholesome and fuzzy inside. The concept of a post-scarcity resource based society is that each person works so well with one another that they eliminate common tasks and free one another to make art out of all that they do. This is exactly our aim.

We intend not only to weather the storm of the impending economic collapse (you know it’s coming), but to be unaffected by it. We will grow enough food to sustain a hundred people or more indefinitely, and this is only on a modest 180 acres. We believe that the best way to solve the problems that come with our emerging global society is to think with the whole earth in mind, and to act with the distant future in mind as well. Acting on a local level is the best way to bring change to the unfair social structure that poisons those that can not afford organic food. There are better ways of food production than massive corn fields when cash money isn’t the incentive, but rather survival, community and happiness.

Our system is a pleasant alternative to capital based world, which, while it does come with certain luxuries and comfort, has brought not only gross inequality and devastating wars, but also mortal illness to the planet and the people, plants, and animals who dwell upon it.

Our prototype of sustainable living will catch on, and if our optimism is worth anything it will pull us from the brink of self-destruction and tip us toward a beautiful tomorrow, or at least a tomorrow where everyone is fed and kids aren’t born without eye sockets or with any extra limbs at all!

If you too are concerned about the future of your family, this country, or humanity as a whole, then you are our friend and ally, and we ask you to please monitor our progress, get yourself into a sustainable situation, and donate liberally to worthwhile causes (cough).

This site will be updated with relative frequency, and we’re more than happy to offer advice, accept criticism, or engage in any other form of communication as long as everyone involved remains non-violent.

Let’s hurry up and fix all these global problems so we can be lazy and free with a clean conscience.