I recently re-read Octavia Butler’s *Parable of the Sower*, a dystopian science fiction novel told through the journal entries of Lauren Olamina, a preacher’s daughter navigating the collapse of society in 2024. The book is a chillingly prescient vision of a world ravaged by climate change, inequality, and social unrest. Today, with rising wildfires, economic instability, and political divisions, much of Butler’s vision feels uncomfortably close to home.
At the heart of the novel is Lauren’s belief system, Earthseed, a philosophy built on the idea that “God is Change.” Earthseed isn’t just a set of verses—it’s the foundation for the community Lauren builds after finding refuge with a group of survivors. Re-reading this book after joining the Conscious Shala made me realize how deeply Butler’s philosophy resonates with my own experience. The Shala, our little refuge in a friend’s garage, feels like an Earthseed microcosm—a space where change is constant and communal.
One verse from Earthseed captures my time at the Shala perfectly:
Everything you touch, you change.
Everything you change changes you.
God is Change.
EARTH SONG – SONGS OF THE LIVING
Before I was diagnosed with autism, my mom often blamed my challenges on my medication. She needed an external cause, something tangible I could fight against. The idea that God had made me this way—uniquely suited for a life with autism—was harder for her to accept.
But this year, something changed. During lunch, she told me how much I’ve grown since I started exploring plant-based healing. It was the first time she’d expressed respect for my self-administered medicine, and in her voice, I heard something else: appreciation. For the first time, she didn’t wish I were someone else. She appreciated the son I am.
That conversation touched me deeply, just as my time at the Shala has. Writing for the Shala has become my way of giving back. My words touch the Shala, and in return, the Shala changes me. Then, through my words, I touch my mom, and she changes too. Call it grace, karma, or ki—for the first time, I can see the cosmic flow of energy moving through me, shaping my relationships and my world.
This Christmas, my mom wanted to touch the Shala, too. She’s an incredible quilter—probably one of the best in America—and while she only gives her quilts away, she asked me to bring one to the Shala. It’s now part of the pile of blankets by the sink, waiting for anyone to use. The quilt is a reminder that change doesn’t just happen through words or actions; it can happen through the warmth of something handmade, something gifted.
As much as we might try, there is little our small community can do to stop the larger forces of climate change. But Butler’s novel reminds me that survival is about adaptation, not resistance. And I, too, envision a plausible near future when ordinary people must make drastic changes to deal with climate’s ravages. But I don’t need to establish my own Earthseed colony. We already have one right here, in the Shala, where change flows through all of us, transforming what we touch—and what touches us.
