I jumped off a cliff, and did not want to die this time. The time and preparation I took with a new found value for my life, kept me breathing. The harness I wore hugged my hips I once hated, while the neon rope kept me far above rock bottom. As I clipped into my climbing belay device from the top of the rock rather than the bottom for the first time, I had a revelation; I knew the harness I was wearing held legs that were stronger than ever before, the shoes on my feet kept me scaling above the expected, and the rope I tied into would lead me to stability and adventure. Harnessing the last of my inner strength allowed me to step into the shoes of the man I knew I was meant to be, all while trusting the ropes I learned during the time that I was away. I learned how to love boldly and with transparency.
Recognizing my ability to love and be loved I set foot on a journey to develop my underlying drive to better the environment. I took the information in like a luffa squash sponge anytime I could, resulting in a vast variety of knowledge. I was taught how to sow, fertilize, maintain and sustain hundreds of species of vegetables, flowers and fruits on seemingly endless lengths of garden beds. Wise mentors and old souls graced me with historical lessons an artifact of how us humans have interacted with the native land for over four centuries. All while highly educated and selfless individuals devoted their time to teaching sustainable and invaluable information to myself and the next generations to come. I want to be one of the wonderful humans who has taught me everything I know about farming and the environment thus far. I want to be a good human too.
Before I started that week in late spring of 2018, I had recently finished pushing myself through my first year at a community college. I was not only grieving the passing of the most incredible person I knew, but I was preparing to lay to rest the female self I once lived for 18 years. I needed to grab onto something to stay in this lifetime. With hard work, maturity, perseverance, self reflectance, and the ability to be honest with myself and others, I healed and I learned. Holding a record of my rapidly growing 1000 hours of environmental and agricultural experience between last farming season and the current one, I continue with an undeniably honest passion for actively learning and striving to create a life I want to be in. Taking the time to restructure my life while connecting with a countless number of unforgettable people to teach and guide me along the way has prepared me for this moment. I am ready for what is next. The time as come to succeed. My name is Neive Doyle, an organic farmer, transmasculine individual with a purpose to save the only earth we have.
Jul 17, 2019
Jul 17, 2019 at 9:39 PM UTC
‘Drunk words are sober thoughts’.
What if we don’t drink but we just think?
Who said we need to set a code
Why does our kryptonite need to be a bottle of only god knows what?
‘You act drunk when you’re tired’.
What if we are tired of holding the bottle
Wondering who will open it for you
Who will share this container of commitment.
The second the top pops off
Untold stories and moments and words will be preached
Liquid courage will fuel the mind that once held secrets of ages
Why can’t we drink a cup of tea and speak till we sleep.
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 12:51 AM UTC
Picture a Rubix Cube.
Boxes fixed on an axel
Colored stickers plastered on each one.
If you are missing a piece,
The whole cube will fall apart.
The Cube will collapse.
Did you know?
In your mind, I bet the cube
Was shaped in a perfect box.
Symmetrical sides, 90 degree angels.
Maybe the colors in order, maybe not.
Either way, all parts in tact.
Picture a Rubix Cube.
Each box apart of me,
All Connected, with near infinite combinations.
Every side says something.
What can I show you next...
Is all in clarifying the question.
Why don't you just ask?
I am a Rubix Cube
And you will never solve me.
If you want to try
All you need to do is ask.
Just ask for the answer key!
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 10:16 PM UTC
She will see them always now
The angel numbers and the simple signs.
With the hope of learning the strings
Of all you have to offer
While the day is still light.
She will see them always now
The plate numbers and the street signs.
With the hope of seeing the truth
Of the third eye’s offer
While the day is still light.
She will see THEM always now
The strayed hair and the warmed face.
With the hope of experiencing all
Of the moments to be reached
While the day is still light.
She sees a human.
She loves my blistered, worn hands.
She loves my dreams of impracticality.
She loves my memories.
Thank goodness she’s my golden hour all the time
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 11:16 PM UTC
It’s the end of the night
The last of the chai
With a breeze meant to cool
Our forever burning hearts.
It’s the end of an era
The last of the sorrows
With a moment meant to heal
Our forever burning hearts.
It’s the end of the show
The last of the magic
With a tune to send us off
To seek our forever burning hearts.
It’s the end of the evening
The last of the chai
With the sky as our barrier
We ride our forever burning hearts.
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 8:56 AM UTC
A Once stranger told me
The story of how she got here
The moment she realized she knew
This is where she was meant to be.
A meaningful memory passed on from us
One she had known all her life.
While wandering in the woods one day
A regular routine
Became an amazing awakening.
She stood in a new weathered barnyard
Fulfilled with effortless emotion
The air became the adhesive
Between the energy and her soul.
Two feet on the dirt
Two hands lifted to the trees
Two eyes opened wider than ever
One heart
Ready to heal.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 10:25 AM UTC
The youth have charged us by storm
You soul is soft, weathered, yet tough.
Even though the thread is thin
We hold tight with a fatal grip.
After prolonged, inevitable erosion
It would make sense to simply let go.
To paint the line we’ve created
A string must measure the length
Of how much time it’s been
To find the end of the string
Is one no soul keeps in mind.
All we unconsciously ache for
Is the end of the line.
How sad that is.
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 11:29 AM UTC
There on the tar
Lies paint with a purpose
We wander too far
Over the lines of hierarchy
Destined to face the consequences
Set by the ones whose eyes
Have experienced this all before.
Troubled souls state simply
That lines are meant to be crossed
They say this with impulse in limbs
With zero regard for the tarnished ending.
Souls of this demeanor
Will never wholy construct the finish
Solely being because of velocity.
You’ve state the line is blurred
The paint is worn or faded
Yet I still stand here listening.
This road has been shattered by youth
The less weathered assume the sun
Would’ve dried the paint by now.
Little do they know
The paint has always been wet.
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 11:25 AM UTC
It’s an hour close enough
To the number of no return
We contact through the space
As we once did before time
A cigarette before ***
Is not what the humble mind
Would immediately jump to
Only the outsiders would assume so
A cigarette before ***
Simply means a breath of air
Before all wind is stolen
By the intimacy of a conversation
A cigarette before ***
May role off your tongue
Tarnished by a society
We constantly run from
A cigarette before ***
When the *** is climatic conversation
And the cigarette is just the breath before
To prepare yourself for the race.
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 12:55 AM UTC
The caution sign is blue
With the font in cursive
And the edges smooth
You said it was okay though.
Blue is no red
With nothing near urgent
The universe sees all
You said it was okay though.
The words are the same
But with a hint of tranquility
That is poorly placed
Cost someone an injury
Leave the caution sign Red
The description wears it worse
Even though it saved some limbs
It never even thought of the heart.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 11:40 PM UTC