“When I use the word spiritual, I am not contradistinguishing it from the material. I have little patience with any philosophy or religion that seeks to transcend the material realm. Indeed, the separation of the spiritual from the material is instrumental in our heinous treatment of the material world. So when I speak of meeting our spiritual needs, it is not to keep cranking out the cheap, generic, planet-killing stuff while we meditate, pray, and prattle on about angels, spirit, and God. It is to treat relationship, circulation, and material life itself as sacred. Because they are.” – Charles Eisenstein
Down on the Farm: August is a busy
month at Opal’s Farm. The Texas summer reaches its apex in August and the
Spring garden crops are beginning to peter out. The summer squashes have about
run their course and the purple-hulled and black-eye peas are slowing in the
heat. We’ve been extremely blessed this year to have only had seven one
hundred-degree days. The average number by this time of year is eighteen. We’re
very careful in the heat: slow down, drink lots of water, and take more
frequent breaks in the shade of our only tree. When the “feels like”
temperature is in the triple digits it’s better to be safe than sorry. Heat
stroke is no joke!
The high temperatures haven’t
deterred our volunteers. A huge shout out to Harrison, Chuck,
Becca, and of course, Brendan for helping with harvesting and helping plant the
new Fall crops. As we transition to our fall planting there are beds to be
cleaned out, prepared, and seeded with all the great veggies that come in the
Fall. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love and appreciate our
volunteers and fellow “farmers”.
That’s why it’s difficult to write
today’s blog post. Many of you know one of our volunteers (and my trusted
assistant), Brendan O’Connell. Brendan has been with Opal’s Farm since we began
building the first beds and planting the first seeds. Not only has he put
countless hours of physical labor into the farm, he’s also shared ideas and
opened doors that have made our first growing season a success.
When Brendan contacted me about volunteering back in March, I had no idea how important he would become to Opal’s Farm or how much I would come to value his input, appreciate his hard work, and depend on him. For the first four months, it was Brendan who was right in the thick of things whether it was plowing, planting, or marketing.
Our First Cowtown Farmer’s Market
One day he mentioned one day that his school needed a title or job description for his volunteer work at the farm. He wasn’t sure what to put down on the paperwork, and quite honestly, neither was I. “Farmhand” was an understatement. He was far more than another hand. I wasn’t sure what to tell him. Until it dawned on me: he was the farm co-manager! It would be unfair to call him anything else. His sense of commitment and dedication to the mission of Opal’s Farm is indescribable.
Couldn’t have done it without Brendan – getting ready for our first crop!
Unfortunately, I knew his time would
come to an end. You see, Brendan leaves next week for the next step in his life
at Cornell University. He’ll be stopping by Cowtown Farmer’s Market briefly on
Saturday and leaving Tuesday. It’s a bittersweet moment for those of us who’ve
come to know Brendan over the last few months. We are extremely happy (and a
bit proud) for him and his new adventure, but it’s hard to see him leave (even
if we do get to see him at winter break).
Part of me is jealous, Brendan. For
those of you who don’t know, Cornell is in Ithaca, New York. Although Brendan
will be studying hard, he’ll be enjoying much cooler weather than those of us
here at the farm! Moreover, Ithaca has an actual Fall season and with it, the
accompanying explosion of color that will awe any good old Fort Worth native.
Winter will be a bit different from Fort Worth (what’s that white stuff called again?), but I’m happy to hear you bought your winter coat online rather than here. There’s not much of a market here for the kind of coats one you’ll need in New York…
Brendan, thank you for everything you’ve done for Opal’s Farm and thank you Mr. and Mrs. O’Connell for sharing your son with us. God’s blessings upon you all. We wish you adventure, happiness, and success in the coming school year. We look forward to seeing you this winter but please know you will be missed and thought of often.
I’m as voracious reader. I keep up on the news. I read articles and books that help me professionally: that hone my writing skills or help me learn to be a better farm manager. Above all, I love reading books and articles that nurture my spirituality and find simple pleasure.
I receive several newsletters each week about issues
important to me, especially those that help me help my clients better.
Recently, one of them reemphasized the basic marketing concept of successful
titles in catching the reader’s attention. From a marketing standpoint, classic
titles saying things like, “How to do
XYZ, Five Easy Steps to a better ABC”, and so forth, invite the reader in
and are more likely to be read. Basic copywriting and Marketing 101. I do it
for clients all the time.
However, it occurred to me while I was reading another “Five Easy Steps” article that it’s rare
for such articles to exceed the number five. It may on occasion be “Seven Easy Steps to” but that always
seems to be the limit. There’s a myriad of reasons why smaller numbers elicit
attention: psychological, neurological, and social. Everyone wants to solve
their problems in a few quick, easy steps. Unfortunately, it rarely works out
that way; at least in my personal experience…
For years I sought quick solutions to life’s pressing
problems, but “Five Easy Steps” never seemed to work. I always found myself in
the same state as before. It wasn’t until I discovered a recovery program from
my “seemingly hopeless” condition of mind and body my condition began to
change. It was going to require more (and steeper steps) if I were to become
the man I wanted to be. In fact, I found it to take twelve of them.
People tend to have a love-hate relationship with twelve step
programs. What can’t be denied is Twelve Step recovery programs have helped
thousands of people through the years, no matter what the specific problem
might be. It should come as no surprise there are around 240 such programs
today; each dealing with specific issues – alcohol, overeating, addiction,
gambling, sex, shopping, ad infinitum… I don’t know if it’s the solution to
everyone’s problems, but the twelve steps of recovery were for mine. I have
been transformed in mind, body, and spirit by taking all twelve steps. I have a
relationship with God today. Moreover, I’ve witnessed the change in countless
others as well.
I tried many times and countless ways to solve my dilemma.
If I just work harder, if I do it this way or that way. Hey, I’m a reasonably
intelligent guy. I can handle this. I should be able to reduce twelve steps to
something more manageable like five or seven, right? It wasn’t until I was
completely beaten that I decided my way didn’t work. I’d take the steps like
those before me had. Maybe, just maybe I could achieve the same results and
move toward positive change.
The stories the same for so many. The evidence is (and was
always) right in front of me. So why did it take so long to believe it?
It may have to do with the number of steps involved. Maybe
twelve is overwhelming. Maybe it’s difficult to see past three, five, or seven
of them. Maybe it’s just poor marketing on the part of all the people involved.
I don’t know.
The bottom line for me is in the results. I’m not who I used
to be. I’m becoming the man God meant for me to be. Had I been able to see into
the future all those years ago I probably wouldn’t have cared how many steps I
had to take to get here today. It’s easy to say that in hindsight though.
The payoff has been far greater than any investment on my part. If I were developing a marketing campaign for such programs, I’d eliminate the whole “Twelve Step” thing. Too many steps. Won’t attract enough readers, you know? I’d break it down to what has become a bit of a mantra to me: “I can’t, He can, and I think I’ll let him”. It’s the cycle of threes seen in all twelve and, hey, it’s only three easy steps, right?
Life loves to grant opportunities for introspection and
growth. Sometimes they come from unexpected, and often, unpleasant places.
Sadie, our Rottweiler/we’re not sure what else, is the happiest dog that has ever graced our home. She’s the smallest of our three rescue pups but has been known to take on a pit bull that made the mistake of jumping into our (more appropriately “her”) backyard. She’s sweet, gentle, and incredibly smart. The “smart” part can sometimes be a problem…
Our little stinker! I can’t stay mad when I see this face…
She recently discovered a space where she can jump the fence into our neighbor’s yard and escape to the front yard. She loves to explore, and our cul-de-sac offers endless opportunities. Our other two dogs, Jameson and Maggie, are bigger and I just assumed she had found a hole somewhere to crawl through. After several attempts to block any small holes she might have found, our neighbor informed me where she was jumping the fence. Our neighbor went on to explain that he didn’t want her in his yard. He has a two-year old daughter and was fearful of Sadie. I dutifully affixed a guard to prevent her from jumping in the same spot.
Did I mention Sadie was incredibly bright? She apparently
found another spot. I put her in the house and tried to figure out where she
was jumping the fence. It wasn’t long before the White Settlement Police came
knocking on my door asking about the “dog problem”.
I’m somewhat ashamed of my initial response. While I was quite friendly to our local law enforcement (who threatened us with “doggie jail”), I wasn’t so gracious thinking about our neighbor. I fantasized all the possible ways I could make his life miserable. After all, we had put up with the chaos coming from their house – the noise, the loud swearing at the kids, and the dog who stayed on our front porch rather than in their backyard (a cute little cuss who ate our cat’s food) and never said a word. They, they, they! Mouthing off to anyone who would listen (sorry Son for interfering with the hockey game), I made for a great self-righteous, pompous victim…
Self-righteous anger doesn’t serve me well. I had time to
calm down and go on to bed. Sleep is amazing. I awoke with a far calmer
attitude: that is until my morning routine was broken by having to take time to
take Sadie out on her leash. Agitation quickly returned.
I finally grabbed my coffee and greeted the morning in my usual way with morning prayer and meditation on the porch. However, thoughts of the previous evening’s police visit kept interfering with my prayers. Suddenly, I remembered Jesus’ words:
“If you enter your place of worship and, about to make an offering, you
suddenly remember a grudge a friend (or in this case, a neighbor) has against
you, abandon your offering, leave immediately, go to this friend and make
things right. Then and only then, come back and work things out with God.”
(Matthew 5.23-24 The Message)
I didn’t think it wise to go to my neighbor at six o’clock in the morning. I pondered the situation further. I began to look at the incident from God’s perspective, forcing me to look inward rather than outward toward my neighbor. To be honest, I wasn’t thrilled with what I found.
A little back story is in order…
We live in a well-kept, older working-class neighborhood.
Most of our neighbors have lived here for years. They are either retired
military or retired Lockheed Martin employees. The only time children are
playing outside is when grandkids (or great-grandkids) come to visit, so it
tends to be quiet.
The neighborhood demographics are changing. There’s far more diversity even in the few years we’ve been here. There’s more younger people, families, and racially and culturally diverse residents. Several of the older residents on the block have passed away over the last couple of years. Their children, who already have places of their own, usually put the homes up for sale. The housing market is tight in our area, so a couple of the houses have been purchased by investors to either “flip” or keep as rental properties. There’s far more diversity even in the few years we’ve been here.
The house next door is one such property. It’s always been
bit more run down than other homes on the block. It’s been bought and sold a
couple of time in the last year and a half. The first owners did little in the
way of improvements so when the present owners began working hard to bring it
up to current building code, we were thrilled.
New Neighbors…
We watched with a degree of trepidation as the new family
moved in next door. They were loud and seemed to have a hundred people helping
them. After they settled in, we learned all the “helpers” were family members.
It turned out they had ten children and one on the way. So much for our quiet
little cul-de-sac!
The solitude of my evening porch time has often been broken
since they arrived; by the younger one’s screaming and crying and the parents
yelling at them with a variety of swearing and threats. The two and
three-year-old kids have repeatedly been found walking around the block without
parental supervision (or clothes). The older ones often block the street
playing basketball daring neighbor’s vehicles to interrupt them. It goes without
saying that our new neighbors are difficult to live with. No wonder I felt
justified in my anger about the dog incident.
Unfortunately, justification only goes so far. It’s a great substitute for reality. Was I mad because they called the cops on my dog or was it because I couldn’t stop Sadie from getting out? Who was I upset with? What was I afraid of? It always seems to come down to fear.
The questioning began growing deeper and deeper. The guy had told me he was concerned about his two-year old. I know Sadie wouldn’t hurt a fly, but does he? Could I not see he had a point? The deeper I looked inside the less I could point fingers at him. I hate it when that happens!
Shifting Perspectives
One of my favorite prayers is the “Saint Francis Prayer”,
especially when the line asking to “understand, rather than be understood”.
It’s amazing to me how quickly I forget it when things don’t go my way. While
I’m grateful my perception, my thoughts, and my actions are less self-centered
than they used to be, I still have days when the world just needs to “do as I
say”. Father may know best. I do not.
I probably won’t be running next door and apologize for my
ill thoughts. Thank God for the pause button between my thoughts and my
actions. I tend to re-act slower and think a bit more before acting these days.
I don’t appear to step on as many toes and quite frankly, making amends and
corrective action is not on my favorite list of things to do. As my friend Jim
used to say, “Crow is best eaten fresh…”
What I will do is pray to “understand, rather than be understood” and stay here on the porch enjoying my morning coffee. It’s funny how much easier it is to bask in the peace and solitude that follows a bit of understanding…
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