Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

The gifts we carry.

December 6, 2016


Our problem, I think, is dependency on disposable. I was about to say, 'on convenience,' but disposable doesn't necessary equal convenience, does it? I mean, our disposables have shrunk our living space, our breathing space, into a form that is most certainly not convenient or, more accurately, perhaps, not conducive to freedom and happiness. 


Now, one caveat--I'm not a parent, and I never will be, so I will refrain from the alien world of parenthood, babies, disposable items, and convenience. That's not the issue, anyway. No, the issue is wholeness. Where can we begin so that we may use the whole of something, rather than a conglomeration of its convenient parts? 


We raise a cow. We love the cow. We milk the cow, we drink the milk, we ferment the milk, we make butter and cheese, we use the whey to make fermented and preserved vegetables, we feed the leftovers to our compost/chickens/garden, we eat the cow (maybe, if that's our philosophy) or we let it live its life, either way, that life ends. When that life ends, it returns to the earth. Perhaps we use parts of it, perhaps not. But the earth can use all of it and, as such, so can we. 


Now, how the blazes is that not convenient? One animal, one humanitarian caretaker, years and years of food, and a legacy that enriches the earth rather than robs it. And you never (really) have to leave your house, which suits this little introvert homesteader right down to the ground. 


Is the cow literal? Well, no, of course it doesn't have to be a literal cow (but, like the best things, it works both ways--so get a cow if you're so inclined and prepared), but it can be a literal carrot, for example, from seeds to garden to food to seed to garden to compost. 


Everything about the world as we know it is cylindrical, circular, cyclical. In other words, the beginning and the end meet.


And isn't that just remarkably convenient? 












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