Still deprogramming

My grandson who is ten was very excited to attend a simulated business opportunity designed for children to learn about money making and business. There were several schools participating and all the children were given a role to play. My grandson and his friend are good students so they were chosen to have positions of greater responsibility. His friend was the CEO of the recording company that their class was in charge of, while my grandson was the CFO (chief financial officer) because he is good at math. Needless to say he had a great time. It was especially fun when they got their paychecks and were able to purchase things at the store. He got more money than other kids but no, he didn't share his money with those children who didn't get as big a paycheck. I think he thought that was an odd question for me to ask. Charity, gift giving and the equitable distribution of wealth were not part of the lesson plan that day.
It is interesting how young children are when we begin to teach them the ways of business including how some people will make more than others and therefore enjoy both life and the game much more than the rest.
Recently a neighbor stopped by and asked me about the chickens we keep. Specifically he was interested in whether or not we would ever sell eggs. I had never met him before although he seemed familiar, was quite pleasant and he told me that he often was jogging or walking by the house. Many people do that since we live close to a popular walking trail. I told him that I hadn't really thought about selling eggs but we exchanged phone numbers and I told him I would call if we had eggs to sell.
When I brought the subject up to my husband he said that it didn't seem like we should get into the egg selling business, but if we had extra eggs we could give them away. My husband is really clear in his thinking about such things. Our first chickens were given to us full grown and ready to lay eggs but no longer wanted by their former owner. The chickens freely give us the eggs and we take care of the hens whether or not they are laying eggs. We often have more eggs than we can use and in such a situation usually give them away to our adult children... but they are not always around or in need. Anyway, this logic seemed quite sound and made me a little embarrassed at myself that I should so easily fall into the buy and sell routine even when I had no need for the money.
The next week when I was clear we had an extra dozen eggs I sent a text to my neighbor and he called asking how much we would charge. I said we wouldn't charge and he began to negotiate with me. But I was firm about no charge although it was a little awkward. In our culture something that has no price is generally worthless rather than priceless. Things we get for free seem to be of little value while that which has a high price we think of as really valuable. Why is this?
Air, water, earth and sky: all were freely given and yet we have so little regard unless of course the air is conditioned, the water is bottled, we have a deed to prove we own the earth and the sky... well clearly we don't have much regard since we continue to pollute it with carbon and methane and anything else we can emit. Love, family, friendship, neighbors these too are freely given, how do we value them?
My neighbor came to pick up the eggs and he had cash in his hand but I said no. He went into the familiar argument about our need to buy feed and watch the chickens etc. but I still said no even though it was a little awkward for us both. Finally I said, say thank you. And he did and we both laughed. He took the eggs and we said good day. Now I text when we have eggs and he or his wife bring the empty cartons back when they remember.
Charity, gift giving and the equitable distribution of wealth were not part of the lessons in my school either. I thank my husband for helping me to deprogram myself of the need to make everything a commodity.

Fly Away

I had the opportunity to connect for a little while the other day with a friend who made a deep impression on my life. Over a pot of black tea in a lovely little tea shop, The Tea Zone, in downtown Portland we were able to catch up and to say good-bye before the imminent move that will take my friend away from this city.
There have been other times when someone important to me went away and there was no time to say good-bye, either because I did not know they were leaving or because I did not act on the desire to connect one last time, waiting instead until it was too late. Good byes, even those that are not permanent but will only be for some extended time, can be difficult especially when there is the added business of packing and storing things and many people who want a bit of time.  But I am glad that we were both able to find some mutually acceptable space in our day to connect.
It is energizing to encounter a kindred spirit, or have time with someone who is fully present to offer their wisdom and listen to yours. I believe that all of the connections that we make in this life remain, keeping us attached even when those connections are not as positive as we would have hoped. We give something of ourselves to everyone we meet and in return there is something given. Too often, unconsciously, but sometimes even with knowledge, we give silence, or indifference, or even dismissal because we are too busy to relate, too self absorbed to notice. In return we receive the same, or perhaps a snub or even a curse. It is far too easy to remain in our own world and miss being present to what is going on around us in time and place.
Many years ago I attended a workshop with a Benedictine Priest, Fr. Aidan Shea who addressed the common human practice of living life semi-consciously. Too tired or busy or distracted to be fully present in our own lives, we allow ourselves to drift without really being aware of where we are going or who or what might be in our path. We do things that we have been enculturated or programmed to do by our families or society at large without paying attention to the damage or hurt that might be associated with our actions unless it is immediately in front of us. If we do something with consequences out of our range of vision, we remain blissfully unaware. We need help to see beyond our narrow place in time.
Last night as I washed the dishes a mosquito flew into the sink and landed on my hand. Without thinking I immediately swatted at it. I felt discomfort that I didn't recognize even for a moment that there was life there, but honestly, I felt much more alarmed that the mosquito was there at all. It is March. Mosquitoes don't arrive until mid to late summer, except this year. The water level in the river is at August level and my friends who crew say they must take precautions against grounding their boats when normally at this time of year they are fighting strong currents in high water. Things are changing but we must be paying attention, be really present to our surroundings if we expect to recognize the signs before it is utterly too late to make the connections between the way we are living and the way that nature is shifting course.
Friends take flight and mosquitoes land. In everything there is connection.
     

speed of time

I remember older people saying that time sped by faster as you aged and now of course I know what they meant. My husband told me once that our experience of the speed of time is in direct relationship to how long we have lived.  When you are 10 years old a year is a tenth of your total age so the school year drags on and summer takes a long time to arrive. When you are 50 years old a year is just a 50th of your age and years go by much faster. Add more years and you can see how this makes a difference. Think about a preschooler being told that their birthday is "just  a month or two away." For the child it will seem like ages and they may ask everyday if the time has come. The same amount of time will flash by for their grandparents who will have to be ready to celebrate on a moment's notice because one day they have two months to prepare and in what might seem like just the next day they have to rush or they will be late!
My mother was once very distressed because a neighbor cut down a hedge that had given her backyard much desired privacy. I remember telling her that the other plants and trees would fill in the open area in no time but she responded that it would not grow back in her lifetime. We sold that house when my mom was no longer able to live there by herself but I am sure if I went back the gap from the missing hedge would be filled in and my mom is still living. In fact for me, it seems like that event was only five years ago when really, it was more like ten.
The speed of time is what pushes at elders to make a difference while they still can; making some people act a little obnoxious or pushy. When people over 50 or 60 hear that the climate is changing and the window of time to make a difference is just 5 or 10 or even 25 years, there is either a sense of real urgency to do something or else they may express a pitiful resignation because "there is not enough time" to do anything. Younger people experiencing time in a less urgent way don't often hear the message in the same way. They may think that there is plenty of time to come up with a solution so they keep on living as usual. This differing experience of time is why it is extremely important for generations to converse about important issues. It is critical that elders make the changes they see as needed whether or not they think they will be around to see any results from their efforts.Talk will not have the same impact as example. But it is also why younger people who begin to make changes at a younger age must be encouraged when visible results don't come as quickly as they expect.
I work with an incredible elder, old enough to be my father... a young father but old enough nonetheless. He is closer to 90 than 80 and still has the capacity and desire to make significant changes in his life. In fact, I believe that capacity is what keeps him young in mind and body. He walks an hour everyday and reads and reads and reads. When I transitioned to a vegan diet, he watched the movies I loaned him and read the materials I sent and now we converse about how to cook tempeh or tofu and what sauces to use for various meals. He inspires me to keep going. If he can change, then I can.
At the same time I think of young people in their 20's or 30's who have already caught on to the need to live differently. I was encouraged to get the DVD Cowspiracy from a young woman who is dedicated to youth ministry and service to the poor. She rides her bike everywhere. She is conscious of her lifestyle choices and works to keep her environmental footprint on the very low side of the scale. When I think about how elevated her consciousness is compared to where I was at her age I am amazed and a bit sad that I was so unaware. She also inspires me to keep going, too keep learning and changing and rejoicing at being alive.
We each are given just a bit of time in the life of the universe and while we are moving through at various speeds we are all going the same direction. It makes sense to travel as lightly and compassionately as possible, and as open as we can be to the wisdom of others. 
  

   

Daylilies and other perennials

All around our yard in the summertime are these lovely wild daylilies that remind me of very delicate irises. There are a number of different colors and they seem to grow quite easily since they are coming up all over. I tracked them down in a plant guide one year so I know that they are daylilies, a flower that is native to Asia where they are often eaten! The buds are supposed to be especially good, sauteed in a little oil with garlic or salt and the bulbs are eaten like fingerling potatoes. Every year I think I will try eating some of the many day lilies that thrive in our yard but then I get busy and they start to bloom and look so lovely that I hate to pick the buds before they bloom. This year I am determined.
Since the daylily plants grow well everywhere in the yard, or so it seems, I am trying to cultivate a daylily patch that will be especially for eating. Today I transplanted several large clumps of day lilies into a garden bed that is near the house and the kitchen garden. I moved them away from the sunchoke plot since the day lilies seem to be crowding in and we do like to eat sunchokes. I hope that the chickens will leave the daylilies alone since they don't seem to nibble on them when they are out in the yard growing, but anything I cultivate to eat seems to intrigue the chickens! They do like to jump around and get under foot when I am digging or planting so there were a few very chaotic moments when I was transplanting. Now however, I am hopeful that they will just see the daylilies as an ordinary part of the yard and leave them alone. (I tried this a couple years ago but the clumps I moved were kind of small so the chickens were able to trample them down searching for bugs in the newly turned soil. I am keeping my fingers crossed this time.) You can see Princess eyeing the newly transplanted daylilies.

When I first began gardening in earnest I really liked the idea of perennial edible plants, especially ones that were native or served a duel purpose like flowers and food or medicinal herbs, but I was not sure how practical or realistic that was in spite of encouragement from my permaculture trained friends. Now however there are many edible plants growing pretty well. The little horseradish transplant that my friend gave me is thriving in two locations in the yard and I had some to eat just today! There are three different kinds of raspberries growing which provide as many berries as we can eat. The break from the usual rainy weather gave my husband and I a chance to get them trimmed and tied up, a task that we sometimes can't get to until the berries are spilling all over.  Then there is the patch of sunchokes which we dig up and eat throughout the winter and some burdock as well. The asparagus and artichokes we planted have never done very well. We get a few small asparagus spears to eat but the artichokes I just let bloom since they are too few and too small to eat.  The artichoke flowers are beautiful and rare enough that people stop when the flowers are in bloom and ask me what they are.
There are also lots of herbs that come up year after year; rosemary, thyme, sage, oregano, lemon balm, and peppermint among others. We also have Oregon Grape, kale in a couple of varieties, some Echinacea that we have yet to harvest, French sorrel that is yummy early in the season before lettuce is available and several fruit trees; apples, plums, figs and a grape arbor. It is really gratifying that there are so many perennials growing and producing. We don't have a big yard... just a standard double lot that has been cultivated with care.  

The Dilemma of the Eggs

   I eat eggs when our chickens are laying. Eggs are the only animal product I still eat. I don't know what happens to eggs on sanctuary farms. I have written to several sites but have never received a response. I mean, as a transitioning vegan is it more ethical to throw them out or to eat them? If the eggs were fertile they could produce more chickens of course, but when there is no rooster around, there are eggs to contend with. In the spring there are lots of eggs.
  We have six chickens in our little flock. Princess is the oldest at just under 8 years old. She is an Australorp with lovely black feathers mixed with green and blue. She was part of our first flock of three Australorps. Her sisters died; first Queenie then two years later Persephone. After Queenie died we got April, Rosie and Jackie because we thought that Princess and Persephone would live about the same length of time. As it was, Queenie died young and we were never sure why. She just stopped running one day, sat down abruptly then fell over dead. It was very sad.
   We took our two youngest grandchildren with us to pick out some new friends. They got to name the hens they chose. Rosie was picked because she was BIG. She is a Black Sex Link with black feathers tinged with red. She has always been a little bossy. Jackie was picked because she was white and there were not many who were white. She is a Leghorn and lays lots of white eggs. I read up on Leghorns and one commentary said that Leghorns were flighty. I thought that meant nervous until she began flying up into the trees and over fences. She doesn't do that so much anymore, seems to be more content to stay closer to the ground. I have some interesting pictures of her to remember that stage, however, like the one below that I took from inside the house. It seemed to us that she had flown up into the tree in order to see what we were doing inside.

   My husband gave April her name because it was the first of April when the three girls came home with us. April is very independent. She is a Plymouth Rock and has white and black feathers. For a while we had five chickens since it was another two years before Persephone died. She began to  lag behind the others and we made sure she got her share of food even when she would sit in the coop for long hours alone while the others were out running around in the yard. It was during a particularly cold spell that she finally gave up living. We buried her near her sister under a large Camellia Bush. Rosie, Jackie and April are now four years old and Princess is still going strong.
   A year ago we were given two more young hens. Penney, who is a Rhode Island Red, is named for the copper color of her feathers which is also reflected in the color of her eggs. Susie is an Ameraucana whose feathers are black with grey streaks. I named her after the friend who gave her to us. Susie lays light blue eggs which are very distinctive.
   I used to think that chickens lived only a couple of years, which of course is true if they are born into the captivity of an egg farm. On egg farms chickens are forced to lay eggs day after day with the use of artificial lighting. Their beaks are clipped and if they have any room to move around at least one of their wings is clipped to keep them from flying. If they are kept in a tiny cage as most enslaved hens are, then they don't need their wings clipped but they never ever get a chance to walk either. Those chickens are lucky to live for 18 months before ending up as someone's chicken soup.
  Our girls call the shots regarding egg laying. We don't use any artificial light so we have come to expect eggs seasonally. I was surprised to discover that chickens don't lay eggs regularly around the year, but how could I know that when I bought eggs in stores that had them aplenty year round? I was surprised this year when we didn't see any eggs at all from Penney over the darkest days of winter. Since she is young, laying a couple of eggs a week would have been more normal. But we didn't see any at all. My husband and I did go out and look for a secret nest periodically - the girls do that from time to time - but we couldn't find any until quite recently.
  I was poking around in the woodshed and heard some soft clucking and after some minutes of trying to determine where the clucking was coming from I discovered Penney underneath the board that was keeping the stacked wood off of the ground. Not wanting to disturb her, I waited until much later to check and found not one nest but two, her current one and an older abandoned one with no more room to sit. There were a total of 31 eggs. Eggs do last a long time outside unless they are washed. Then they lose their protective coating and must be refrigerated. Eggs that come from factory farms are sometimes refrigerated for months before they get to the store! But eventually, without refrigeration, the eggs do go bad. You can check them by putting them in a pan of water. IF they are good, they DO NOT float. If they are turning bad they stand on end and eventually start floating.
  We had 19 eggs that were beginning to float! They were in a basket on the table in the kitchen for a couple of days while I tried to think what to do with them. There were too many to put in the compost and we don't have regular garbage service. Finally, I decided to find a place inside one of the fenced vegetable gardens where I could dig a hole and bury them. Anyway that's the second part of the dilemma of the eggs. The first part; is it ethical to eat them and if not, what to do with them?  The second is, how to dispose of rotten eggs?
   Any readers out there with ideas or comments, PLEASE let me know. 

  

A little history

   I was impressed by the testimonies of people who attended the commemoration of Bloody Sunday this past weekend in Selma, Alabama. Especially moving were the stories of those who were actually there on the bridge that day 50 years ago, people like Rep. John Lewis. Politicians and religious leaders and ordinary citizens remembered together an event that for many people, marked a turning point in the understanding of race relations in the United States. I was 15 that year. I would like to relate my own reactions to the news that day but I don't remember anything about the day or the event which makes me feel disconnected to something very critical for the nation's history. People my age who were living in Alabama certainly remember it as do many non-whites living in other parts of the country. I can say I was aware of societal turbulence at the time; the war in Vietnam, the civil rights movement and the push for women's rights were all coming into my consciousness a bit at a time.
    My mom was especially vocal about politics, but she and dad were not ones to talk about racial issues. That is interesting given that my maternal grandmother was against their marriage due to my father being a brown eyed, dark skinned Italian! ( She considered him to be of another race.) My parents both grew up in Oregon which has historically had a very low number of African American citizens compared to the size of the population; just 2%. Once my mom told me that she used to say hello to the dark skinned men coming up and over the hill when she visited her grandmother who lived close to the river and rail traffic in northeast Portland. She told me this because she wanted to let me know she was not afraid of "them." She also told me that she used to have a "little black" friend. Yet, when I was in high school my mom was not open to my being friends with people who had friends who were black. It was strange. There were only two black students in my high school class of 600. Later in life my mom became more open minded and worked with an organization that helped young mothers who were struggling. Many of these young moms were black. Once I reminded my mom of the restrictions she gave me when I was in high school but she denied that she had ever said anything like that. The residents and staff where my mother lives these days are racially diverse. Mom can't really talk anymore but there seems to be sincere mutual affection regardless of race which please me.   
   Today my husband and I took a walk with our youngest granddaughter. We like to walk down the local pedestrian and bicycle pathway and head toward a little coffee stand. There we buy chai or hot chocolate made with soy. We were chatting as our order was being made by a man at least a generation or more younger than us. We brought our own cups except that the one for our granddaughter was a paper cup, clean but used. This led to a conversation about local regulations for using second hand cups which eventually moved into a discussion about local versus federal laws. The young man remarked that he preferred local to federal oversight. I said yes but, with some things like minority rights it took federal action to make needed change. He looked surprised and said he never saw any discrimination in Oregon. I remarked that the sundown laws had kept people of color out of Oregon, so really we are a pretty white state. He told me quite earnestly that those laws had ended in 1862. He was quite definite about the date.
   The truth is that the sundown laws and towns were not officially outlawed statewide in Oregon until 1957. Oregon entered the union in 1859 as a State with laws that were designed to keep Oregon white. These laws made it impossible for people of color to stay overnight since they could not rent housing, stay in a motel or hotel or eat in any restaurant. In addition they could not own property. It was the work of the Urban League, NAACP, and other groups along with Mark O. Hatfield that finally brought an end to the laws that discriminated. However, we still have a long way to go. I generally cringe when I hear the words of the Oregon State song which includes the lyrics "Land of the Empire Builders, Land of the Golden West; Conquered and held by free men, Fairest and the best." Just what does "fairest and the best" mean?
    Today it is hard to discover which towns were sundown towns because the laws have been erased from the books and there is a desire to pretend they never existed. I don't think it is possible to transition to a kinder more inclusive society if people are not taught, or willing to face up to the truth of the past. It is too easy to revise our memories or our history and forget the lessons that need to be taught in order to move forward. 
  

Faint scents

I spent the afternoon cleaning up last year's herb and flower beds. I know I should have done it in the fall, but there were still some flowers lingering. Then without much warning it was cold and wet and the time was past. But today, on a winter afternoon so sunny that I needed my sun hat I decided it was time for a thorough cleaning. By the birdbath that is really a watering bowl for the chickens, I sat down to remove the grass that was intruding among the sprouts that with spring will become delicate purple irises. I worked at digging carefully around the bulbs, trying hard not to disturb them. My chickens, who had coming running at the whispered scent of freshly turned soil,  were not so delicately jumping on anything that moved including my gloved fingers. So I moved to my kitchen garden which is inside a wire fence and off limits to the hens.
  I pulled away the dead stems of last year's glorious blooms and began scooping out the fallen leaves that were covering this year's tiny green shoots before I remembered that it was a winter afternoon. The sun had me fooled just as it was fooling the tiny shoots so I gently tucked them back in under their blankets of damp smelling leaves. The northwest is notorious for late freezes. We had snow flurries once on April 12th. I remember because it was my parent's anniversary, but that was really a long time ago. Nonetheless, like a mother sending a small child out overly bundled up "just in case," I kept the tender shoots covered up though not layered quite as thick.
 When I reached the herbs the faint scents of oregano,  mint, and thyme teased my senses. How could those withered brown leaves still have fragrance after all the rain and wind? But they did. And just how many holly trees will try to grow before they figure out that they are not invited to join the kitchen garden? Four or more I had to take out just today.
 Working in the garden, pulling weeds, cleaning up, these things free my mind to wander. Sometimes I make plans and think about what I will plant. Other days, like today I spend time worrying about things I can do nothing about. Friends going through hard times. A grandchild who is ill. My mother, who is fragile and no longer communicates with me, but still, she has the soft scent of my childhood about her. A winter afternoon. 

In the garden

    I made my first post winter venture out into the garden today except that it won't officially be spring for a couple of weeks. Usually I don't get out into the garden until late in March or even April because the soil is usually to wet to work with. I am conscious of the weather shifting and changing. The lack of snow in the western mountains means we will lack water this summer even though we had near normal rain fall in the valley. Gardening will be challenging this year. 
    We have had a streak of dry weather with cold nights and warm days the last week. So, I was able to cut back last year's dead branches on my herbs, prop up the border fencing where it had been pushed down by rain drenched soil, and cut enough sprouts of broccoli and kale for dinner. I was dismayed to see aphids on some of the green sprouts. I can usually count on the over wintering spring greens to be without aphids. I look forward to the luxury of not having aphids to deal with like I do in the late summer and fall gardens. Evidently there was not enough really cold weather this year to inhibit the little critters. I have yet to learn how to manage aphids. I don't use pesticides and none of the organic or natural methods have have been proposed to me seem to work very well so far. 
    A friend of mine showed me how to capture fruit flies without hurting them. I often end up with fruit flies in my office at work and really they are too small to catch and release even if I could catch them as I do flies or bees.  At the bottom of  a jar or glass you place a piece of fruit with a drop or two of apple cider on it to increase the scent. Then you make a cone with a very small opening out of paper and put the pointed end down into the jar, but not touching the bottom of the jar. Then be sure that the large opening of the paper cone is up close against the rim of the jar. The fruit flies will then fly into the cone and down to the fruit but they will not fly back up the cone. I tried this and within a few hours I had many fruit flies feasting on the fruit. I took the whole thing very carefully outside and let them all go.  
   I was pretty happy that my fruit fly trap worked so splendidly. There were no more teeny flies buzzing around in my office, but I left the trap up one night too many. I had placed some left over bits of my lunch in the bottom of the jar before going home and when I came in the next morning I found the jar filled with ants who were busily taking the bits of food apart and carrying them back to their homes. Ants are very clever and they will crawl right up the cone and out. I watched them for a while and determined that they were not getting into anything else. I am always careful to cover any foods that might be around. So I left the ants alone to take the food I didn't need to wherever they were going. 

   On Tuesday there was a prayer on the World Peace Diet website (www.worldpeacediet.com) for all of the "nations of insects and other small creatures." It spoke of "all the tiny beings who live in the soil, the trees, the water, and the air, creating harmony and balance." It was really quite lovely and I shared it with several people. When I was out in the garden working I was very conscious of all the little beings moving around. I also remembered how dead the soil was when I first began gardening in earnest some years ago. The little beings bring life to the garden. They are an important part of life-- and there will be more of them in the garden to watch for this year; a mixed blessing!  

Do you really want to know?

Every year we have a St. Patrick's Day Party at church complete with Irish Music, Storytelling and of course Irish food like corned beef and cabbage. I was talking to some friends today who were questioning if corned beef should be served since the whole community has been talking about the effect of meat eating on the environment. One lady said that she really enjoyed the colcannon which is basically cheesey potatoes with cabbage - although some people make it with cream instead of cheese. When I offered that I would be eating only the vegetables made without meat or dairy I was asked: "What is wrong with milk and cheese?"  Most of the community has known of my vegetarianism for the past 20+ years but going vegan is still new to some people. Since the woman was very sincere and surprised that dairy was not good I had to ask: "Do you really want to know?"

I remember the many years when I thought that the dairy industry was so much better than the beef industry. At least I thought, they didn't kill the cows. How little did I know! And once again I had to face the fact that most people have no idea how the milk in their refrigerators is produced. Sure they know that milk comes from cows, but the idea that the cows are not treated well, that they suffer when their babies are taken away, suffer again when they are re-impregnated only to have another baby taken away so that humans can have the milk, and then, after giving birth 5-6 times, and giving thousands of gallons of milk to the dairy industry, when they get tired and their overworked bodies wear out, they are sent to be slaughtered, ending up as hamburger - this does not register well with kind hearted ladies who are trying to be nice and live with love and compassion. 

We humans certainly have an amazing capacity to avoid things we do not want to know especially if it will force us to change our ways, or give us nightmares.

But sometimes we really need to know.

Catching Up

I had an infestation of mice a number of years ago. I live in an old farm house. It was awful because the infestation got so bad we had to use traps. Sometimes a mouse would fall into the dog's water dish and I would find it swimming frantically - and then I would have to catch it and release it outside. When I killed a mouse using a trap I felt terrible. I buried them outside in the earth since it felt wrong to throw their little bodies into the garbage can. Eventually I connected with a humane pest control company that found the entrances that mice were using under the kitchen floor and closed them up. I also learned to cover all foods and keep pet foods covered as well. Later, I discovered piles of stored pet food stashed in corners by busy little mice. I tried to imagine them running with one little piece at a time for hours to create the stash. After the pest control people left, there was no more trouble. The mice were gone, or were outside at least and not in my pantry. I felt okay again. I just hate killing anything.

I have always admired the Buddhists who are so gentle with all of God's Creatures. I think of the Buddhist way whenever I find myself spending a good deal of time trying to catch and release flies, wasps, spiders and the occasional yellow jacket who wanders into my house. I wonder now how I could ever have participated in the inhumane raising and killing of animals for food. Part of my mind had to have been closed down. 

I found a really good book by Will Tuttle, Ph.D.who is a Buddhist, a teacher and a professional musician as well. His book is titled The World Peace Diet: Eating for Spiritual Health and Social Harmony. New York; Lantern Books, 2005. He has this lovely passage on page xvi of the preface:

     "The calling we hear today is the persistent call to evolve. It is part of a larger song to which we all  contribute and that lives in our cells and in the essential nature of the universe that gives rise to our being. It is a song, ultimately, of healing, joy, and celebration because all of us humans and non-humans alike are expressions of a beautiful and benevolent universe. It is also a song of darkest pain and violation, due to our accepted practices of dominating, commodifying, and killing animals and people. In order to confine and kill animals for food, we must repress our natural compassion, warping us away from intuition and toward materialism, violence, and disconnectedness.

     The song of the new mythos that yearns to be born through us requires our spirits to be loving..."

There is something exceptionally compelling about the way Dr. Tuttle writes and calls people to a reorientation of how we eat and act in the world. I highly recommend the book. There is a website as well:  circleofcompassion.org

I have been researching and reading some books by Christian authors on the same topic, but so far, I have not found an author who writes from such a deep place in the heart.

But, then again, I think that most Christians are only beginning to catch up.