Thinking about the love that my heroes put into their life’s work made me wonder what I could love. I have many interests. I know I couldn’t love only one thing forever – it would need to be something more like a category or mission which somehow involved all these different skills and activities that I care about.

I remembered something I said to myself when I was a little girl. I had just learned what the word “matriarch” was. (I think I’d been watching a show about elephant herds, which are led by a matriarch.) I said “I want to be that.”

Of course, modesty precludes the possibility that I would ever admit such a thing out loud. It’s barely tolerated for one to joke occasionally how things would be different if one “ruled the world”.

I don’t want to get my nose up into strangers’ business. I don’t want to be tyrannical or force anyone to believe anything or do anything they don’t agree with. But I do want to lead. I want to design a place where people can share a lifestyle that they all enjoy, and which promotes health and happiness. I want to build a village. A sustainable lifestyle of abundance for all.

All the things I’m passionate about blend together in this one direction. All the time I’ve spent learning to make soap and build tiny houses and grow a permaculture farm etc. would come in useful if and when I ever got the chance to do this. Someday I hope I can. I want to find a place where I can shape a nurturing home that will attract like-minded people to want to move there and share in the vision.

I don’t know about legalities much. (I hope one or more of the people I will attract can be lawyers.) I don’t actually care about having any title of authority. All I want is to set things up so that folks can have a model of community that works for them. Everyone should have a home that is nice, safe, and small. Everyone should have access to plenty of local food. The land should never exceed it’s own carrying capacity. Everyone should have the freedom to raise a family well on even a minimum-wage job, though there will be no stigma against earning more if you can. It isn’t communism. It’s just community that I’m after.

I saw a video once about dry toilets at a music festival, and always thought that sounded so attractive. I want to make a place where artists and musicians and smart, amazing people from all over will feel happy to come and share their gifts and camp out and party together.

I want to build cabins for festival guests to use, showing off many different housing styles like straw bale construction, or cob construction. I want to plant fruit trees and vegetables everywhere in a semi-wild state so they can pick their own dinners, or even catch their own fish. Doesn’t that sound like an awesome campground?

That would be a life I could love. Providing a place for people to visit and enjoy themselves. They’d come for the festival, and the company of like-minded people. They’d come for the camping and the adventure. They’d pick up the permaculture stuff almost incidentally. Then they could take those experiences and copy them elsewhere. 12 months ago

I just saw a TED video by Dan Barber (a chef) who interviewed Eduardo Sousa, who is a farmer that loves geese. He loves them. He practically worships them. Or perhaps it would be more fair to say he sees caring for the geese as a way to express his worship of God, to whom he gives all credit.

He provides for his flock a goose paradise. He gives them everything they could ever want, including beautiful pasture and water and specially planted herbs and fruit trees to feast upon. He could make more money selling the herbs and fruit than he makes selling the geese, but he lets the geese take whatever they want and he sells the remainder.

In the fall it is natural for geese to put on a lot of fat, as most animals do, in order to prepare for winter. He harvests his geese after this time, and makes pate de foie gras from their livers. This foie gras is unlike any other foie gras in the world, because his geese are never force-fed. And he adds no spices or even salt to his foie gras, though Chef Barber said he could distinctly taste a complex variety of seasonings in it. It is because the geese are given such a rich and free-ranging diet of every kind of herb and forage that the foie gras has such an intricate flavor.

I’ve never eaten pate de foie gras. I was disgusted when I saw what “gavage”, the standard form of force-feeding geese to produce it is. It is one of those things that is so cruel when you see it you cannot be the same person afterwards. There is no gavage involved in how Sousa produces fat goose livers.

What makes this story elegantly beautiful to me is this same quality I’ve been noticing over and over again in my heroes; this quality of deep, deep love. They love something so deeply that they pay attention to it in every detail. They do not try to fight with it. They allow it to be and do whatever it wants, to find its fullest expression. Eduardo noticed that there is a natural state of goose bliss, which results in this heavenly food beyond anything cruelty can produce. It is a food in which you can literally taste the love.

Chef Barber said he will probably never serve foie gras again in his restaurants. Not because it is cruel. Not because the public KNOWS it’s cruel and will hate him for serving it. But because having tasted this REAL food, he suddenly realized everything he’d ever tasted before was NOT real. This is a food which does not point to the skill of the chef for its preparation. It points to the bliss of an animal, whose life was near-perfect.

I want to find something like that. I want to create such bliss in the world. Not the whole world, probably. But in one corner of it I want to find a way to be so in love that I can devote my whole soul to knowing something, and crafting a niche for it which honors its soul to that degree. 12 months ago

Today, just for a kick, I decided to check around and see what land costs in my area. I wasn’t surprised to see it is quite expensive. What did surprise me was the payment calculator I stumbled upon at one site, which told me quite likely I WOULD be able to afford the payments on a small place, if I had so much as a minimum-wage job.

Of course, that begs a question for me. If Section 8 is happy to make rental payments for me for years, lining the pockets of near-slumlords, why couldn’t they make mortgage payments for me instead? The same amount of money put towards a mortgage would actually go a LOT farther than this 900sf apartment with no playground and no garden.

But that’s just an aside. The real point of this post is that it got me thinking about home ownership as something potentially POSSIBLE, instead of despairing that it could NEVER be possible. I even noticed that if I am willing to relocate there is land available in other states at VERY reasonable prices! Southern Oregon in particular looks extremely attractive. The weather would be warmer and drier, but not desert-like as California can be. I could get LOTS of space out there, and build the little micro-village of my dreams!

Well, maybe I could and maybe I couldn’t. But it’s a fun dream! And meanwhile, I’m focusing on taking the next step in front of me, which is to move into my new apartment, and begin to tend a few plants and work some small animals into a symbiotic cycle. I know that even on that nano-scale I will learn a lot and make a big difference in my life and my diet, and that of my family. 12 months ago

In designing my container garden it seems I will be growing nine different herbs (not counting multiples of each variety), five things I can count as “fruits”, and seven things I can count as “vegetables”.

My goal is to have something edible out of my garden for as long as possible. Preferably fresh. It would be ideal to be able to pick something on any day of the year, but for now I’ll settle for the warm months.

The reason behind this goal is that I want to increase my family’s nutrition, and support local agriculture. You can’t get more local than your own back yard! It will also be nice if this garden saves my family money by providing us with alternatives to what we would otherwise have to buy.

I will still buy staples like potatoes and carrots at the store, because they are cheap and easily available. I’ll buy organic if I can, but I can’t promise to shop at farmer’s markets. Much as I support the idea, it’s really more for middle-class people with more disposable income in their food budget. It makes me very sad to have to say, but I just don’t have the luxury of that kind of choice.

But a home garden fertilized with guinea pig poo and vermicompost should produce enough food to really make a difference to us.

Any scraps can obviously be fed to the piggies, which will complete a rather harmonious circle of life. I hope I’ll be able to raise enough guinea pigs to eat the garden scraps we produce! I really have no idea what quantities I’m talking about yet, though. I guess I’ll find out as we go along.

12 months ago

I have plans that at my new home I will have a container garden. It is in quite a shady spot, but it does get some sunlight. So I will focus on growing salad vegetables, and herbs, and some of my favorite flowers. (Often my favorite flowers, like daylily or lavender, are edible!)

I will have a vermicompost bin, since I probably won’t be able to keep a regular compost heap.

I’m considering raising a couple of rabbits in a hutch. I think I may do that whether or not I believe I could eat them. I miss having a pet, and I DON’T want an indoor pet again because I really hate fleas, and yet I’d like something fluffy to care for and pet sometimes. Rabbits don’t take up much room in a hutch, and in my new home I’ll have some sheltered space I think would be perfect for them. 13 months ago

Today was wonderful. I got to be helpful to two very nice ladies, and get lots of work done. I learned a lot, too. Plus, there’s just something satisfying about being part of a process which honors the “chickenness” of the chicken.

Today I helped process about 50 chickens, getting them ready for market. I saw these chickens go from live, happy birds walking around in green grass and sunshine, to being plump freshly-packaged birds sold for $3.29/lb. I am very satisfied that these birds never knew a single day of pain in their lives.

I helped with all stages, except the actual killing. Since I’ve had plenty of experience cooking at home with raw whole chicken, this wasn’t a very difficult transition for me. As it turns out, I’m pretty darned good at several tricky stages which the other worker had a bit of trouble doing. So to make our work more efficient, at one point I was doing all my “favorite” or best parts of the process, and I left the part I didn’t enjoy so much for the other worker, Alice.

Karen, the owner, did the outside work which included killing and plucking. The killing was done in the sunshine, on the grass right next to the birds’ travelling pen called a “chicken tractor”, so as to minimize the birds’ discomfort at being handled. The other birds in the pens were not even disturbed at seeing their comrades’ dispatch. The birds still happily flocked towards the farmer as the source of food and water and other care. It’s good to know that they trust her, and see her as a friend right up to their last moments.

Examining the innards of a bird was a new experience for me. It was not as disturbing as I thought it might have felt. One benefit of this for me was that I got to see what a healthy bird’s organs look like. I was educated as to what to look for to know they were as gleamingly healthy as possible. Having seen giblets packaged with market birds before, I could easily tell the difference.

This farm is very small. She currently owns only two cows (rescued from a major dairy facility and nursed back to fine health), and two chicken tractors, as well as perhaps one or two dozen laying hens (which roam free as if they own the entire place).

I was surprised most by the live chickens’ reactions to the dead chickens. There was no revulsion or fear. There was only a sort of interest, obviously hoping that a choice piece of liver or something might be shared. They weren’t much of a nuiscance…it was a bit like having a cat nearby who wanted something off my plate. (Not that I was eating any chicken today.)

It is obvious to me that though humans (especially Americans who are quite distanced from such natural processes) may have their issues with the supposed inhumanity (or even outright immorality) of killing an animal for food, the animals themselves have a different take on it. Not that they are eager or exactly “happy” to die, but it just isn’t something that bothers them. They care about having a comfortable life. They aren’t burdened with angst about a soul or an afterlife. They just live the best they can, and take their place as a natural part of the food chain.

Karen said to me that she was most surprised that I even showed up today. Apparently, she’s used to people offering to come help her, or saying they’re interested in learning about her farm, but nobody before me has ever followed through and come to work. Thanks to my extra hands she was able to flow through this heavy chore day with remarkable speed, accomplishing at least 30% more than usual, and marvelling that she may yet get her daily nap today (that she obviously very much deserves and needs). I am very proud that I was able to be so useful.

Payment was not expected for my help. I only did this for the joy of service and education. But Karen very generously insisted that I take home with me three fine bagged chickens, which together had a value of at least $50-$60. Certainly not a bad return for six hours of volunteer work! I also snagged a bagful of chicken feet (which had been headed for the garbage), because I hear they make excellent stock. Karen has extremely high standards for the quality of her product, and the chickens I got happened to have minor imperfections, such as a slightly torn skin or broken wing bone from the plucker. Karen said they were “not of high enough quality to sell”, even though I know I’ve purchased many chickens from Tyson which were in much worse shape than that. Still, it was a happy reward for a good day’s work!

Next processing day is on the 19th. I look forward to helping again. Karen is now also my friend on Facebook and Farmville (when does she find time to play??) and I will be looking for more opportunities to work and get other sorts of experience at her farm. 22 months ago

I’m so excited! I get to go work on a farm soon!

It was a chance excursion yesterday that did it. I was buying raw milk from a local store, and noticed the lable contained the name and address of Blackjack farms, and it was very local. I was out with a friend, and we decided to drop in to see how that farm is operated.

When we got there a woman met us in the driveway. Turns out she’s Karen, the owner. She gave us a quick tour and explained some of her goals. It turns out that she is a big fan of Joel Salatin, as am I. Therefore it was very simple for us to understand each other as we discussed the chicken tractors or whatever. Her setup doesn’t seem to be quite as thoroughly managed and integrated as his yet, but then she has only been doing this farm a year or two and hasn’t had time yet to perfect everything.

I mentioned that this was the sort of farm I would love to intern on someday, and you could see her freeze for just a moment, and she said, “You mean, like working for free?”

I laughed and agreed. I would gain a lot from hands-on experience. I’ve read and studied these things about as much as I can through books and videos. I need to really do them to take myself to the next level.

So she admitted she could use a little extra help, especially around processing time. Next processing day is July 6, so we agreed that I will show up and lend a hand then. If all goes well, I will return and do more work throughout the summer.

I had come to her farm on a whim, while out on a date with Fred. Therefore I was wearing a pretty, flowing skirt, long painted nails, and jewelry. I suppose I didn’t make the most convincing testimony to a woman ready to handle farm realities. Her parting words to me were, “Don’t dress up too much.” LOL!

The next thing we did was stop at Value Village and I got a new set of work clothes. I want to be confident that it’s okay for me to get covered in unspeakable filth while on the job, and not be the least concerned that my clothes can’t take it. I cut my nails as soon as I got home. Today I’m headed to Wal-Mart to buy a pair of rubber boots. When I work I’ll have my hair tightly pulled into a bun. I want her to see that I mean business, and can handle whatever she needs me to do. 22 months ago