I call her Joy

There is something about welcoming our guests  with a smile, a fresh a cup of coffee and a greeting of "what can we do for you today". It takes very little to please them. Their reactions give deeper meaning to the saying that the simple things in life are the most pleasing. And because a few snacks and coffee easily makes their day, I find myself wanting to do so much more for them.

However, it wasn't often that I felt this way. When I first started to volunteer in the Free Market, I was overcome by shame. I am far from rich, but compared to what little our guests have, along with many others living in the city of Tampa, I could very well be labeled as such. It was in the moments of serving that I realized how I often took advantage of the things I had. I never knew how much a hot shower meant to me until I came into contact with people who hadn't washed in weeks. I regretted the days that I failed to clean my plate, only to throw away good food because it didn't quite meet my taste. For awhile guilt and shame interfered with the way I served. I constantly felt like I wasn't doing enough and would feel terrible if we didn't have something that a guest needed.

So I began to pray; and  through prayer I learned to replace my guilt with gratefulness. I now use what God has blessed me with to bless others. The greatest blessing I have been able to give has been my time. Time given to listen to their stories. Time given to tend to their needs. Time well spent that is given to a community that absolutely deserves it. I don't want it back, because my time given gave birth to feelings that were at first unexplainable and foreign to me. The only way to describe it was the feeling you get coming off of the high end of a roller coaster mixed with blissful tingles you receive after an awesome hug.

Joy...is what I think they call it.

And the more I experienced her the more I greedily wanted more of her. You see, joy isn't like other emotions: fleeting. Here one day and gone the next. She is lasting and she is true. Once she takes residence you have to feed her, and the more you feed her the more she grows and the more she grows the chances of removing her become nearly impossible. 

I don't think we take joy as seriously as we should. I mean she is directly connected to our thoughts, emotions and actions. Among other emotions we so earnestly seek, joy is the greatest of them all.

It took me awhile to find her but me and joy are getting more acquainted. I look for her in everything that I do, and my greatest hope is that the people I serve and serve with come to know and befriend joy just as I have.

Don't Play Tug-O-War with the Poor

Just over a year ago I wrote a five part series about urban development and gentrification in Tampa. The series was titled There Goes the Neighborhood and used the Nehemiah Project in Sulphur Springs as a starting place for the discussion. It was well received and I have since been encouraged to continue writing about local trends that impact the poor such as that campaign did, and is, and will. 

I live in the Ybor Heights Neighborhood in an intentional community known as the Lake House as it is on Lake Ave. Our little neighborhood has seen the least rise in median income over the last twenty years of any of the neighborhoods to the south and the east of the Hillsborough River. If you remember I spelled out this trend in the post on Demographic Inversion from the series. Our neighborhood is fairly small, very diverse in age and ethnicity, and it has many of the struggles you might imagine exist in a working class inner city community. With the very active VM Ybor neighborhood to our south and the booming Seminole Heights community to the north we are sandwiched between two popular places that hip young professionals might buy an urban bungalow. 

Our own particular area, about 0.028 sq miles has somehow remained, economically speaking, a fairly stable place over the last twenty years, slowly inching up in median income by 5% over that time, while VM Ybor to the south increased in median income by 20% and Seminole Heights to our north shot up 33% over that same period. One possible reason for this is that during that time, while nestled between development to our north and south, we were also shoulder to shoulder with Robles Park and College Hill public housing to the East and West. Lake Avenue was the main drag that ran from one to the other. These neighborhoods were both tough places, full of struggling families, and under tremendous police occupation. 

This part of the city is full of beauty and it is also full of pain and poverty. There are many who live in homes their families have had for generations if they are owners and even more that are in rentals. In 2002, College Hill's post war style housing projects known as The Ponce De Leon Courts were demolished and replaced by Belmont Heights which were built and fully occupied by 2006. The two places are not even comparable in terms of construction or aesthetic. The built environment was greatly improved while there was a major cost to many families who had called College Hill home. Major displacement of residents occurred because of far less units in the new construction, the mixed income model, and significant restrictions that were placed on who was permitted to live in Belmont Heights (i.e. No students, no felons, etc.). By the time the 2012 census numbers were taken, College Hill had increased its median income over the previous 20 years by 109 percent! Since that time, Tampa has been on a steady campaign to tear down all of the old style projects and replace them with Belmont Heights style housing. Neighborhood by neighborhood, the poor are being displaced to areas like Suitcase City in the University area. Robles Park is still on the list but will take some time before it's turn in the queue. So our adjacent neighborhood has been a little less sought after for development than our neighbors to the North and South. 

The neighborhood has seen its share of new faces to be sure; we ourselves were transplants here albeit a decade ago. We came here intentionally to learn to live in community, establish relationships with and learn from struggling neighbors, and also to do our best to be a bit of a light on a very rough street. We were full of dreams, ignorance, and arrogance and this place has been our school, our recovery, our awakening, and in many ways our salvation. We love Ybor Heights and do not intend to leave it. We also do not intend to stand by while it is bought out from under the very neighbors we have come to know and love. 

It is always scary when folks move to the community from more affluent middle class neighborhoods because they can bring with them a certain set of values, values such as security & cleanliness, which when made priorities, can sometimes trump neighborliness or friendship. When a "not in my backyard" attitude moves into the community it is imperative that the neighborhood either engage the new folks  and open their eyes (or run them off) before code enforcement and law enforcement begin to be called on to "fix" what they perceive to be problems. Perhaps they don't even know the impact that such "improvements" can have on an already economically strapped and over-policed community. 

There's a white middle class family that moved into the neighborhood a little over a year ago that we have been very intentional about getting to know. They have turned out to be people that are committed to loving this neighborhood and sharing their resources to see the people around them thrive as well. They have opened their arms and doors to the community and also had a man who lived a street away from them move in with their family when he seemed to need that hand extended. It's beautiful and they have been intentional about working to gain the trust of the community around them. It is such a joy to see privilege and poverty meet in a way that heals and improves life for everybody involved. In sharing their life and resources and even their house with neighbors they have grown and learned and become more a part of this beautiful community. That community has also become a bit more beautiful because they have joined us. 

Across the street from this family is a huge house that has been renovated over the course of the year. As we have gotten to know them we have discussed the possibility of them purchasing the house so that there would be more space for others who need community, housing, and family. We knew that it would cost more than most other houses in the community because of its size and were prepared for that. As the house came closer and closer to being completed we started to realize that this house was being polished up to sell for large profit. Our guess was that it might list for 250k or maybe even 300k even though you can barely find a house in the neighborhood worth half of that. This place was very large and very well cleaned up, but also it is still on James Street, just off Nebraska ave between a radio tower and the interstate. It is hard to imagine someone who could afford this place wanting to move to this street. These neighbors were already on the block, already had demonstrated their commitment to the neighborhood over profit, and were the only folks around who might be able to buy such a place. We were all excited and waiting to see the price post since the house had been ready for a few days. 

Then one afternoon some painters rolled down the street and painted the neighbors house, the house next to the one for sale! (WTF?) We knew the price was going to be too high for the community but when they went to the trouble of changing the face of the street by cleaning and painting neighbors houses we knew...it's gonna be bad. That night it posted and here is the listing:

$419K!!! What the hell? Not only is this an outrageous amount for any house anywhere but in this neighborhood it is insane. It is also a huge middle finger to a community in which the most economically well off here could never afford it. It is a flag planted in our community by a hostile force. There is no way that the well being of the people who already live here in this community has been taken into consideration. Anyone who can afford that much for a house will not be ok with this neighborhood. They will not be ok with the dudes hanging out on the block, they will not be ok with the loud music, they will not be ok with the poorly kept homes, they will not be ok with the constant helicopters hovering over the street, they will not be ok with the local restaurants (Checkers and McD's) and they will not be ok with the neighbors that have to sleep in the park just a block away. Now I'm not saying they should be ok with all of these things, many of us want to see some of those things change ourselves but we do it by working in the community and not by force (as in code or police or economic leverage). 

In a neighborhood with 20% unemployment and 50% of its residents below the poverty line, this house is a disaster. We are not against development, though, often, when you are for the people you will not be on the side of development either. This house could be a tremendous asset to the work already being done in Ybor Heights but instead it is being paraded around as though it was the nicest house in Seminole Heights. It is not in Seminole Heights and we don't want to see what happened there happening here. 

Painting another house on the block is a particularly disturbing move. What seems like a nice gesture is done for the sole purpose of selling this house at an outrageous price. It will effect those neighbors housing value and will therefore affect the taxes they owe each year if they are owners. If they are renters it is just a matter of time till they are all put out to make space for better off (and whiter) folks who will pay higher prices. I am very tempted to engage in the exact same tactic of manipulating the 'broken windows' theory and tagging the neighbor's house (I actually could get their permission too), registering it on the sex offender list, and parking an RV out front of it. We can drag that house down just as they can lift our houses right out of our reach if we let them.* It shouldn't have to be this way. 

Communities will change as more money comes into them and it is so important that we guard against any displacement that might keep folks who have been there from benefiting from those same improvements. We cannot continue to watch poor folks pushed away from one community after the next because of flexing economic and political power. Either we need to face them, talk some things out and open there eyes to the realities in our community or we need to run them off. 

None of this is about being against. At least not primarily. We are for something. We are for peace and reconciliation. We are for justice and mercy. We are for community development and organizing. We are for the Kingdom of God. When you are for the Kingdom, you are to stand against every reality that is not consistent with that promised future. That future kingdom where the poor are cared for and where justice rolls like a river and righteousness like a never failing stream. 

Nobody here was asked. Nobody here has been considered. 

If I was asked though, this house should not sell for more than 300k...and first dibs should go to the community the house is in before offering it to just anybody with money. 

*While for me, such tactics are a temptation it has already been a reality for a few others as the house has been intentionally flooded once and also defaced with spray paint a time or two. I assure you the drug dealers see the same problem we see and you really don't want to be the family that buys that home.

Dearly Loved

 

The young woman stumbled into The Well's front desk and mumbled her name. She was wearing just a dirty white pair of men's tight boxers and a short t-shirt. Heading to the coffee station to fill her cup, she bumped into several guests. She hardly reacted as they expressed their displeasure at the hot coffee splattering on them and on the floor. That was my first encounter with the woman I came to know as Amy.

I immediately headed toward her that morning and tried to guide her to an empty seat in our Family Room. She was unhappy, incoherent and mumbling to herself. I went to the clothing closet and picked out a pair of comfortable capris and a clean t-shirt. I tried my best to not offend her as I encouraged her to go in the restroom and change her clothes. Visibly agitated, she mumbled something unintelligible to me but followed my suggestion and accepted the clothing.

The following morning, Amy came back and quietly checked in at the front desk as I went about my morning routine. After about 30 minutes, she left. Less than an hour later, she stumbled back into the coffee station grabbed a stack of napkins, wetted them and proceeded to bathe herself in front a room full of people. I stopped her and asked her to go the bathroom if she needed to freshen up. Again, she seemed angry and frustrated but didn't communicate with me directly. Amy and I continued to have similar interactions for the next three months or so. It was then that she stopped coming to The Well for several weeks and I became concerned that something terrible might have happened to this young woman who I'd never even really had a conversation with.

I was in the prep room one morning getting ready for breakfast, when one of our floor volunteers came to get me. Amy was at the front desk asking for me, they said. Surprised but relieved, I hurried out front to see her. She was well-dressed and sober. She hugged me tightly, and I hugged her back. I had never seen her lucid before and was shocked initially that she even remembered who I was.

Standing there in the Family Room, Amy excitedly told me the story of her arrest and how she begged the judge for help getting into rehab. She remembered me, and had even thought about me while she was in treatment. With pride, she introduced me to the case worker who, even though she was standing next to Amy the whole time, had escaped my notice. Amy handed me the rehab facility's information and asked if she could use me as her contact for the case worker. I agreed of course, and wished her well as she left smiling and pleased with herself. As people jostled by me in and out of the Family Room, I stood in the front doorway overcome by the exchange I'd just had with Amy.

I have always known the rational reasons why I come to the Well to serve every day. I often have doubts though whether my presence has any meaningful impact to the people around me. Amy and my interaction that morning left us both somehow changed. After no more than a quiet acknowledgment of each other for many months, the open affirmation of our relationship was healing for both of us. I needed her just as much as she needed me. Her smile that day was all the encouragement I need to continue doing the hard work in front of me, even when it feels insignificant or impossible. Now I know that my kindness had that same effect on her.

Amy has become a regular guest at The Well again. She has good days and bad days just like the rest of us. Now she often stays around after we close, and cheerfully helps us to clean the bathrooms, the floors and all the coffee and tea splattered on the walls and doors. We all appreciate her very much. I asked her once why she left rehab so soon. She replied sadly that she couldn't afford the payments for her treatment, and so was asked to leave. In that moment, I was saddened not for her but with her.

The reasons for our struggles are never simple, and fighting to overcome our weaknesses alone is incredibly hard. Amy struggles in her own way. I struggle in mine. My role is not to fix Amy or to judge her. Like me, Amy knows her own wounds. Picking at them over and over again only causes the infection to worsen. Our relationship reminds me that my role here at The Well is to be present, to encourage people when they're struggling. I celebrate with people when they have the courage to face their own demons. I mourn with them when they fail. They mourn with me when I fail.

The name Amy means "dearly loved." I think that we are all Amy. We struggle and fight and fail and try again. And to the extent that we face this life together, hand in hand, we are stronger for having each other, and we are dearly loved through all of it. 

Streets of Gold: Rediscovering Abundance

"When our hearts were golden our houses were wooden, when our houses became golden our hearts became wooden." 

Unnamed Mennonite leader - 1670s

Few earthly things have been more prized throughout time and across cultures than gold. The picture of Heaven painted in Revelation is of streets paved with gold. Yet, to uncover the significance of gold in this vision of a perfected world, we must dig deeper than our culture's frequently shallow conception of material wealth.

As beautiful as gold is, the value ascribed to it is has always been primarily due to its scarcity. The rarest metals and gems are generally treasured above all others. By recent estimates, there has been some 171,300 tons of gold discovered in human history, which equals roughly 1.33 ounces for each person currently living on earth. Based on today's market value, that's an average of $1,576 USD for every woman, man and child alive - and that's just in gold mind you. The reality of wealth distribution is of course is far different. Many Americans may never be in the same room as an ounce of gold in their entire lifetimes. Access to wealth is so rare that the bottom 20 percent of Americans have an average total net worth (both financial and non-financial assets) of zero dollars, while the wealthiest 40 individuals control more than half of all wealth in this country.

Since humans first began conceiving of wealth as something to be hoarded, this shiny metal has been considered precious despite offering little intrinsic worth. As much as we prize gold for it's scarcity, we premise our understanding of abundance on more of it consolidated under our own control. The "Midas touch" mythologized by Aristotle two millennia ago has now entered our collective vocabulary to symbolize the "skill" of proficiency at procuring wealth. In our hyper-competitive global economy, those who have this so-called skill wield tremendous power and receive the ultimate societal privilege. "He who has the gold makes the rules," is how Jesus' words are satirized. The separation between those with gold and those without is far more than statistical; indeed, these individuals experience in their lives very different daily routines, opportunities, lifestyles and customs.

It is in contrast with this deeply divided world we know, that we must now examine a Heavenly city with streets of gold, gates of pearl, and foundations of gemstones. To understand this vision as simply "more for everybody," is to grossly misunderstand abundance. Imagine yourself in this New Jerusalem trying to buy something to eat from your neighbor with a gold coin. What value does gold have as currency in a city paved with the same? Formerly a rare sight, gold is now in abundance and is in the public domain. Apart from scarcity, it has lost its value as a bargaining tool.

We often forget that in the story of King Midas, he dies of starvation as a result of his "vain prayer," unable to eat because everything he touches turns to gold.  Surely we don't imagine Heaven as a shining city full of starving people. How then will we get food to eat, if we have nothing to offer in return? The answer is still gold, but perhaps better understood as manna.

While gold in its scarcity separates us, in its abundance it unites us. In a city where that which we formerly hoarded is now of no bargaining value, everything we need is now free. Our idea of abundance is no longer based on more of anything for ourselves. We are provided all we need, and we give freely out of our abundance to any who are lacking. When we imagine Heaven on Earth - when we pray "Your Kingdom come, Your will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven" - we should imagine the real impact of those streets of gold.

Finally, ask yourself this: can you conceive of Heaven as more than just a place we go when we die? After all, Acts 4 describes Heaven as perfectly as Revelation 21 does. "There was not a needy person among them, for as many as were owners of lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold and laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need." Their supply of resources came through the same mundane sources that you and I must rely on today, but they understood it in its abundance, and treated it like the manna it was.  This is simply a community of like-minded people emulating the abundance and generosity that Jesus taught them.

We can do that too. We can do it right here in our city. 

The Well hosted a retreat for our core community just before Christmas, where we practiced dreaming of the Heaven on Earth that we so often pray for. I shared mine from a few months ago. Carlo, who has been a part of our community for just over a year now, put this dream to paper during the retreat:

My eyes are opened to a city comprised of people taking it slow. Not necessarily lazy, unmotivated individuals but a community that is slow to giving up. A city made whole because it values reconciliation, its members embrace confrontation for greater good to come. Composed of people that sometimes have more than others, the differences amongst them do not stop or prevent them from having relationships with one another.

I see Tampa becoming more like the canvas that Jesus paints for us to see and to share. Where every person does not rush to make things right with their own strength, but instead everyone is quick to seek each other in humility for forgiveness and reconciliation. The outlook on oppressor/victim is of less importance because an understanding of a broken, imperfect city weighs heavier on people's hearts. Restoration is valued more than one's appearance, skin color, educational background or socio-economic status. Tampa, altogether focused on seeking mercy first above all else; an awareness of inadequacy, weakness and sin surrounds us but grace encourages us to pursue each other more.

My dream for Tampa is for a city whose voice is heard across the United States. That we are not silenced by evil, but God propels our city to cry out to Him. We bravely step into confrontation believing that good will always prevail. Citizens will openly discuss matters that may become uncomfortable, and communities will engage in listening to and sharing in each other's pain. We will be a city extremely slow to prescribe solutions to problems, and will not step down or shy away from proclaiming changes that need to be deliberated. I see Tampa embracing and looking forward to conversations that involve the poor, injustice, violence and inequality.

If I were to describe it in a parable, I would say our city has so much flour. An abundance of flour that if not properly used and shared would otherwise go wasted. This flour - food, clothing, shelter, medicine, education, jobs - will continue to remain only flour and not something greater unless we also add each of our yeast into it. The many resources in our city remain insignificant until we each add our yeast by giving freely, and then the flour is transformed. The yeast works its way through the dough, and only then can a new creation be birthed. This is how the Kingdom of Heaven will come to Tampa. 

Do you have a dream of what Heaven on Earth looks like, and how it will change us as people? If you do, share it here and let it become part of our collective vision for Tampa. If you don't, I challenge you to start 2015 off by imagining what your neighborhood might look like if it were paved with streets of gold, and then ask yourself what you can do to bring that dream to life. 

Will to Value

I love this place.

I love every person who comes through The Well doors to find some rest, food, help of some kind, transportation, a shower, a friend, a restroom, a couch to sit on to watch a movie, or just an outlet to vent.

The ReCycle Bin, where i spend most of my time around here, is beautiful. It’s running like an old machine, reassembled and dipped in oil, slowly but surely working the rust and kinks out of a broken community.

Sometimes it’s hard not to get upset with people who want to take more than they need. But who am I to tell someone who has nothing how much they need? Who am I to tell someone who’s constantly being stolen from and pushed around, that they shouldn't steal things they want, or keep more than the bare minimum? Who am I, one who has the privilege to decide that I have too much, and need to get rid of things, because I have piled up far more than I need, to tell someone that they shouldn't be selfish. What has this society taught them? That selfish people come out on top. The people who get the privilege to be acceptable in public without being criminalized and rejected are the ones who can literally buy into it.

Property equals respect. Attain property and you will be given respect. I can’t get mad when someone steals tools. I can’t get mad when someone builds a bicycle and then sells it for the money. It’s the cost of living, no matter what it’s spent on. Cigarettes, booze, food, a place to sleep for the night, bus fair. Our friends on the streets sell their own blood plasma on a weekly basis because it’s something that they already contain that is worth money. They don't have to acquire residency or a resume to get paid. It may be the most worth some people feel as far as the system allows- The fact that some entity is willing to pay money for something that is completely born of their own bodies. It might even be a source of satisfaction. What future could I possibly expect my brothers and sisters to see for themselves? God forbid, they lose their property, else they’ll be cast out, thrown in jail, rejected, viewed as flawed, less than human, blamed, chased from their own neighborhoods, unworthy of mercy.

No matter how difficult it can be sometimes, I know that what we are doing is important. Every conversation had, every bike built, every skill and grease towel shared is a lesson on how this community can be healed if we work together.

"Oftentimes have I heard you speak of one who commits a wrong as though he were not one of you, but a stranger unto you and an intruder upon your world. But I say that even as the holy and the righteous cannot rise beyond the highest which is in each one of you,
So the wicked and the weak cannot fall lower than the lowest which is in you also. And as a single leaf turns not yellow but with the silent knowledge of the whole tree, so the wrong-doer cannot do wrong without the hidden will of you all. Like a procession you walk together towards your god-self. You are the way and the wayfarers. And when one of you falls down he falls for those behind him, a caution against the stumbling stone. Ay, and he falls for those ahead of him, who though faster and surer of foot, yet removed not the stumbling stone."

-- Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

No Gray

When it comes to serving God

Shortly after I turned twenty-three I decided to rededicate my life to Christ. I somehow thought that by doing this my troubles would evaporate and I'd be blessed with a struggle free life. Oh how wrong was I. 

I found myself doing the same things that I promised God I wouldn't do. 

Blessing people with the same mouth I cursed people with. Speaking words of encouragement to all who needed it, only to turn around and engage in senseless chatter. 

You see, when it comes to serving God, it's either all or nothing,  either white or black.....no gray.

Granted we may not know what God has called us to do in our life and won't know until God is ready to reveal that to us. And so I have learned to use my season of waiting as a way to listen to the Holy Spirit. And by allowing the Holy Spirit to move me, abide in me and then change me, I was able to fully dwell with him and let go all of the earthly things that I was trying my hardest to hold on to. God doesn't expect us to be perfect. He just wants us to be His. 

When it comes to serving others

I had always had a heart to serve, even before I got saved. I tried volunteering at different organizations only to retreat at the last minute. Even though my heart was in it, I couldn't shake this feeling of hollowness. 

When I allowed Christ to lead, he began to show me a thing or two  about serving others. He showed me that although we are all different shades with different personalities; we are all children of the same God. 

 Although it would be more comfortable for some to serve in a nice environment with air conditioner and cable, we are also called to serve to those who haven't seen soap or shampoo in weeks-such as our friends in the Free Market. 

When we humbly serve, not only are we a blessing to those of whom we are serving, but by being faithful with a few things, God will put us in charge of many things. Only then are we able to share in our master's happiness. Matthew 25:21. 

When it comes to Unity

What I've learned by serving and being in community is that race, gender and ethnicity do not need to be the barriers we make them out to be. What I mean is that hunger does not discriminate, nor does poverty, nor homelessness. And so we must not be quick to turn away our brothers and sisters who do not look like us. We need each other. We need unity. 

If there is anything to be learned, know that although there are areas of our lives that are not yet clarified; and because we do not have clarity, these areas may seem gray to us. But when it comes to sin there should be no compromise. Perhaps it would be nice to do whatever we wanted to do and love the Lord at the same time, but it doesn't work like that....it's either black or white. 

There are many shades of gray; aim to be none of them. 

The Revolution: Tilapia, Torches and Pitchforks

As Jon alluded to in the previous post, The Well is now operating a fledgling hydroponics system for the shared benefit of our broader community. This week, a small group of us has the privilege of participating in aquaponics training at Morningstar Fishermen in Dade City, Florida. We are joined by students from around the globe to learn more about using this unique combination of aquaculture, hydroponics and agriculture to create healthy and reliable food sources. In addition to a shared interest in plants and fish, many of those in attendance also have a common burden for communities that struggle with hunger. A fellow student from the U.S. shared over dinner yesterday evening that he too was frustrated with local efforts in his state to criminalize not only being poor, but the efforts of others to feed the poor. He then remarked with a grin that teaching people to raise their own food was his way of "giving the finger to the system." His is a frustration that I know all too well, but I also share his optimism for the growing influence of small food producers on larger systems. I wanted to take this opportunity to share why.

A glimpse of the collaborative economy by Jeremiah Owyang

Over a span of nearly two centuries, armies of "farmers and peasants" in nearly every country on the American continents have fought successfully for independence from colonial powers. This most recent century witnessed the transformation of all workers into what Peter Drucker referred to as knowledge workers, and the erasure of a separate class of laborers. During the last decade, the so-called maker movement has emerged to so enthrall millions of industrious Americans, that they have abandoned traditional education and employment in droves. Even among those struggling with poverty in our own community, we at The Well hear voiced constantly a desire to labor, serve and innovate. Today's revolutionary farmers are more educated in biology, technology and the mechanisms of global economics than any generation that has preceded them. Makers and tinkerers of every kind also have unparalleled access to empowering information from Wikipedia to MOOCs. Perhaps most encouraging to me is the thriving collaborative economy that has emerged in the last few years that indicates a cultural shift toward de-stigmatizing cooperation, shared-use and interdependence.

Specifically as it pertains to nourishment, demand has exploded in the last few decades for foods that are grown locally and sustain both healthy bodies and a robust ecosystem. A growing number of visionaries are now working to take the energy and creativity of the masses and combine it with a knowledge of local food production that is sustainable, scalable and enormously subversive. As a result, the balance of power over what we eat is slowly shifting from monopolies and global conglomerates to the local producers who treasure our planet and value an intimate relationship with those for whom they produce food.

Viewed together, these trends converge into a single "mega-trend" that could be described as the democratization of the means of production. Put simply, everyday workers increasingly have all of the knowledge necessary to produce every material thing that we need to live full and abundant lives. It is only natural that, as a fundamental need and the basis for a healthy mind and body, food should lead the way in this revolution. People who are not hungry have the time and energy to be creative and pursue other interests - interests that may include creating and building things, or more ominously for some, the energy and determination to undermine and tear down systems of tyranny and oppression.

The hope for our own efforts to cultivate fish and plants is to both feed and educate those in Tampa's urban neighborhoods who struggle with food insecurity. The familiar image of a revolution may be an angry mob with torches and pitchforks - but the sense of generosity, gratitude and peace cultivated by growing and sharing food serves as a reminder that ours need not be a violent revolution. After all, the greatest revolution was started using a few loaves and fishes along with the admonishment to be kind to each other and serve those in need. We live in an incredibly exciting time, and despite the resistance posed by self-serving institutions and the powerful few, we have every reason to be encouraged.

To you who are already laboring with this mission: Let your torches shine boldly from the hilltop and keep your pitchforks working toward the more abundant future we know is possible. 

To any who still dare resist this revolution: No matter. The farmers and peasants are coming.