philosophy

Lesson # 1,499,789,321

 

A bear got into one of my hives last week.  The carnage was, well…it was a bear.  Right behind where the hive sits there was a large place where it was obvious that he just laid down and slicked up the frames.  There was wax and wood all over the place, but there were three or four frames that seemed like they were laid gently next to some bricks.

I didn’t notice the hive had been massacred right off the bat.  During the day I like to look out the back window of the soon-to-be shop and watch the bees fly in and out of their home.  I did this, and I noticed.  Running out and realizing what had happened I didn’t get angry; it was strange.

I picked up the leaning frames and instantly saw a huge glump of bees: was the queen alright?!  Gently I set up the hive again, and put the three frames (full of globs of bees) in the middle,  surrounding them with clean, unadulterated frames.  The next day I added a frame of honey; they weren’t so nice.

Everyone has told me that bears attack hives; up in the mountains of Colorado, and evidently in Northern New England.  I can’t blame the bear, it must eat as we all do.  I only have myself to blame.  That is in fact lesson that is cyclical: it is my fault and no one else’s.  The lessons we learn are seldom about bears or bees, accidents or bad “fate”  (There is no such thing you know).

It is our fault, the blame is our own; and we must learn because to make mistakes is human, but to learn from them is god-like.

Carpe Diem

 

When starting a project that seems overwhelming the best thing to do is…start.  This is how people who have started such projects eventually got them done.   While it is true that we ride the shoulders of giants, those giants accomplished their amazing feats with a simple decision to try.

No matter what it is that catches our eye, tickles our fancy, gets our attention, we must simply pick up a hammer, a saw, a shovel, a pen (or a computer) and get to work.  Take the time away from the thieving habits in our lives that steal that precious commodity and take on a project, create a goal to achieve: start something that you are not sure you can finish.

One day, it might be after sleepless nights, soreness, profanity, and hopelessness, but one day you will step back and out of the corner of your eye you will notice that the last nail has been hammered, the last plant planted, the last period placed.  It is at this point that you lay the tools down and wait for the smile to cross your lips and the heaviness to lift (ever so slightly) from you shoulders.

Carpe diem!

Bartering

 

 

Slowly, but surely we are rebuilding our farm.  New starts, sometimes, require new starts and such was the case with us.  So much in two years, but all necessary; difficult but necessary.  At least we have our hens back and they’ve started laying.

Every morning I turn into our dirt driveway and look forward to opening the hen house and watching the girls (and Bentsen the rooster) pour out.  There are always a few girls in the boxes.

At the end of the day I go out to collect the eggs.  This is the ritual.  The day begins, by the way, with scrambled eggs and often at dinner we do a southern favorite: deviled eggs.  Of course, we always have a supply of hard boiled eggs.

The other morning I just couldn’t do eggs (I just couldn’t!); yogurt instead.  And the girls kept laying as hens do.  Happy hens picking around on the farm all day finding ticks, eating grass and taking dirt baths and laying eggs.

We have about five dozen eggs in the fridge as I write this; we eat eggs almost every morning and now my favorite childhood treat, deviled eggs, is starting to lose its luster.  This is just not right!  More eggs tomorrow.

And the hens keep laying; happily clucking away after they do. And the thought came to mind: this is why people began bartering.  Not because they wanted a profit: because they got tired of eating eggs every day.

Don’t get me wrong: fresh eggs are a wonderful thing that sadly many people never experience (other lost experiences include fresh, self-slaughtered pork and chicken, and unpasteurized milk).

Eggs are wonderful, and hens are wonderful.  There is a downside to happy hens: lots of eggs.  In big cities these are premium: $5-7 a dozen, but out in the country people just grin at such prices.

“I’ll trade you some eggs for some of that homemade cheesecake?!”

Well, some things you just can’t turn down.

Space

spaceSpace is amazing thing.  We create things to create space; we place things to create certain spaces and we rely upon people to give us space.  Space surrounds us; it makes up most of the universe and yet we are surrounded by barriers.

Once asked the job of government the answer was simple: to create space for a civilized society.

Once asked why read, the answer was simple: to create space in our minds for imagination.

Why learn?  To create space for curiosity.

Why be curious?  To create space for progress.

We all need space to ourselves and to allow space for others.  This is not just tolerance; we must not tolerate stupidity or incompetence.  But we must leave space for those who do not want to be or to remain stupid; to be or to remain incompetent.

There must be space for them and the change that they search for in the space that they live in.

There must be space for change; and it is in the spaces that we create that life happens.

Last Man Standing

PHOTO: Mohammed Doyo, head caretaker, caresses Sudan, the last male northern white rhino left on the planet. (Nichole Sobecki for The Washington Post via Getty Images)

For so many people an animal, far from their reality, that dies is a news item and nothing else.  Their families, their jobs, their lives take precedence over the importance of a single rhino that dies thousands of miles away.  But this death is important to us as a species: it represents our disregard for those around us and the world in which we live.

With the passing of the last white rhino, our world becomes a little less interesting, and much less diverse.  The world that we live in becomes smaller as our understanding becomes more narrowly focused.  Selfishness is not a virtue that we can count upon to survive; human beings are not the center, focal point of all things.  And so as another animal dies due to human action, this lesson becomes more important.

But how can we take into consideration an animal that dies thousands of miles outside of our perspective when we cannot take into consideration those around us, those outside of our own families?  This is, of course, a rhetorical question.  To say that our families must always take precedence over all things is not enough.  The kind of life we want our families to have is directly correlated to the kind of life we want everyone and everything to have and so as the world becomes a poorer place the quality of life is diminished; it goes quietly.

Our decisions cannot in any moral sense be limited to our own narrow perspective; easy is not an option.  Somehow we must realize that it is not the quantity but the quality of life that matters.  Until this sense of virtue is understood there will always be a last man standing as the world putters by.

Producing Good Work

One of the more difficult things to do is to explain to others what it is, exactly, that we do.  As a newcomer to homesteading, this is especially difficult.  Most people are not comfortable with the vaguely nuanced answers that sometimes come with homesteading.

“I’m a farmer…”, you might begin.

But, there’s more.  What about the carpentry?  the mechanics, the weather, the forest, the land?  What about the canning and the cooking?  What about the slaughter and the butchery?  It takes a lot of work to eat; more than most realize.

“I’m a homesteader…” you usually end up saying.

But that is ambiguous and what about the money?  Perhaps the issue and the real question is money: people want to know what you do to earn your living.

Nowadays the new homestead is demanding some demolition: tearing out drywall and knocking down walls.  Unscrewing screws and pulling up nails; there’s the cleaning up and the three dumpsters (so far).

The answer was given while watching video: “I earn my living by doing good work.”

MISTAKES, MISGIVINGS, AND MOTIVATIONS: IV

face roadmap

Leaving; there was no where.  Looking; there was no road.  The silence of the forest and the whisper of the wind off of the ocean; the mists off the mountain tops and the death of the desert’s heat; the man had been many places and was still looking.

Still, looking.  “I am still looking….”, thought the man, “still looking for my home.”  The past in his pocket and the future on his mind he stilled his weary thoughts and lifted the weight once again of what would have to be done.  The difficult task ahead, that he knew all too well, was once again upon him.

“This is life.”, he said to himself as we walked along noticing all of the people who had there own pockets and pasts, their own illusions and dreams, their own weights to bear.  And it showed in their faces and in their eyes.  It showed in how they walked away and to, how they moved and sauntered; how they sat and slept as he past them by.

“Mirror’s everywhere.”, he thought.  “Mirror’s everywhere.”

The Sun Goes Down

A new place; a new beginning. Pulling the old, familiar tools out again I go to work. Things are the same, but yet (as people always seem to say) they are the same. The smells that make up a home coat this house, but they are unfamiliar as they always are. At first, not knowing where to begin, I begin; and the day goes. The sun comes up.

I throw old memories down the staircase knowing that at one time they were important. They aren’t mine, but I feel for them nevertheless. Almost as if time as stopped I pause at a few, looking at them and understanding that there is a time for everything and an end to everything as well. The house is full of these memories; some are good, and some are just…memories.

The wood stove warms up the place and it comes to life. The house was never dead as some that I have known were near. It is a heavy feeling to work in a near-dead house. This one is tired, it is worn out but friendly. Silent, but thankful. Years go by in an hour. Days go by in a minute. I put another slice of wood in the stove and the cinammon smell of dried oak and pine fill the room.

The house is patient with me as I go about my chores. I leave for while to start a tractor, to make plans, to pick up wood, to have coffee, but I come back and start again. Each time I walk into the house the musty smell of smoke, incense, wood and beer fill my nose. It is not a bad smell, not a good smell; it is the smell of years of life, of existence, of survival, of talks and fights.  It is not my life, but somehow it is all of our lives. Human life is messy and the house as experienced all that people can give it.

And now, like me, it begins a new adventure. I almost see it smile as a close the door as the sun goes slowly down behind the trees.

MISTAKES, MISGIVINGS, AND MOTIVATIONS: III

face roadmap

As he realized, there was no explanation and searching for answers to the puzzle that the past posed, he found none.  With the past in his pocket, there was only the unknown, the future left to pack.  And as he folded and flipped the future a new realization dawned: it was not his own.

“The future is not ours…”, he thought out loud.  “The future belongs to no one; it is, in fact, nothing.”  As the thought settled in his head he reached for another piece to pack and found that there was always something to put into his bag, into his pocket to become the tear-soaked past.

“Something out of nothing is the truth; finally!  The Truth!!”

And what of meaning and these dangerous days of wonder and worry.  There will come more mistakes and more misgivings, but of what?  And about what?  If the future is truly nothing, than we are left with the pocket full of past and the present that we cannot notice.  Are we truly slaves to the limits of time or are we burdened with the freedom of space?

Philosophical nonsense made meaningless by poetry and prose, by literature and leitmotifs.  And as these thoughts ran through his head, the responsibilities that he had once believed he had had continued to create something that was never his.  Picking up his empty bag and feeling the weight in his pocket, he turned to go.