This post is not about home-brewing, although we do have three carboys (15 gallons) of "hooch" currently fermenting in our kitchen.
Rather, this is about my own personal fermentation. I have been reading On Becoming an Alchemist by Catherine MacCoun these past several weeks. Before you all decide that I've completely gone all mystical, I do want to point out that her approach to alchemy is about transmuting the self. For example, transmuting desire into devotion, false roots into confidence, territoriality into integrity, vulnerability into compassion, and obsolete desires and ambitions into magical will. That last one is what she calls "fermentation" and magical will is basically an unconscious will. For example, after fermenting, one may wake up being able to do things that he or she didn't previously know how to do. Or, one may find that his or her subtle perception (perception of energy and things that aren't matter) has sharpened. There's nothing really hocus-pocus about alchemy; it's just a greater state of awareness. If you've ever practiced mindful meditation, then you've worked on your subtle perception, and are practicing one aspect of alchemy.
MacCoun is quick to point out that the whole process of transmutation is messy; it doesn't feel good. When we go through calcification (burning) it feels like all hell is breaking loose. When we experience fermentation, we have the blahs. I definitely have the blahs. It has manifested as a sort of stagnation, which has shown up not only mentally, but also physiologically (reduced circulation). I'm sure I could fit my symptoms into a western medical paradigm (Seasonal Affective Disorder?, Raynauds?), but I prefer to use this more holistic approach as I feel it better encompasses who I am, who I was, and who I will become.
On a related vein, I had lunch with a good friend and former colleague or mine a couple weeks ago. We were talking about meditation and self-awareness and the idea of the inner saboteur came up. We are all familiar with this concept and I think many of us struggle with it. My saboteur comes in the form of "This is a really great idea, but I'll just put it off" usually because I have no idea how to implement it. I am not a go-getter nor am I a natural leader. For example, I could have pursued a lead to get a full cord of firewood through barter on Craigslist. I had a 1998 Civic lying around ("out to pasture") that I would be willing to barter. But I didn't pursue it. My friend said "Don't let your inner saboteur get to you". MacCoun's philosophy points out that the inner saboteur might really be your spirit sabotaging your material self for a greater purpose. Self-sabotage may not be a neurosis, but instead a sign of wisdom and I took comfort in that thought. I ended up donating the car to the Kidney Foundation and we bought a half cord of wood (that's a half of a full cord) from a farmer down the road who also sells us grain and hay. It was a situation that I felt more comfortable with, and while I like the idea of bartering, our farmer friend is aware of that preference and is definitely amenable to bartering in the future, but it didn't work out in that particular circumstance.
Anyway, I'm sure I will continue to ferment for a while yet. It's not a bad thing; it just is. Keep that in mind with the ups and downs of life. The uncomfortable and/or tricky parts of life facilitate our growth, not our demise.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Top Three Unexpected Country Moments of 2011
I know we are already well into the second month of the year, but while spinning some wool this evening, I was inspired. And I haven't been inspired in a while (hence, no posts) so here it is. Three of the top unexpected country moments of last year.
3. At spinning group back in December, we were going around the circle for show and tell (I know, sounds elementary, but it's how we get to see each other's work and share ideas and upcoming events). We get to Mother K, who is a nun and shepherd of actual sheep at the local convent. Mother K had spent all day tending to the animals and had basically decided she needed a break for a while, so she came to spinning group. She stated somewhat sheepishly (no pun intended), "Nobody there knows I'm gone." Then in a more playful confident tone, "It's easier to ask for forgiveness than to seek permission!" Maybe I shouldn't be surprised by this statement as country nuns are people too and need breaks just like the rest of us. And they certainly aren't infallable either.
2. The husband of a friend of mine who is a nice guy and a "real" farmer and do-it-yourselfer (rough around the edges, slaughters his own beef cows, owns multiple tractors, hays his own fields, fells his own trees, builds his own house) stopped by one morning asking me for advice. The questions were initially about nursing school, which caught me even more off guard, because it was the last thing I would expect from this person (he was looking into pursuing a "real" career). We stood around for a while, looking at the pigs, talking about farming, the new USDA-approved slaughterhouse opening up, the harvest, etc. like any country farmers would do. Huh. While my darling husband has been able to navigate this road much more easily than I (no doubt in part because he is male and the perceived "head of household"), it only took me 5 years of running a small farm to earn some farmer respectability. Not bad, in the grand scheme of things. Kristin Kimball writes about a similar experience on her farm in The Dirty Life (I can't quote it exactly because I lent the book out to somebody but I don't remember to whom!).
1. My darling husband and I were sharing a quiet meal together in the kitchen one December day when the dogs started barking. Old Farmer J down the street (another "real" farmer) was at the door. He wanted to know if we were interested in a Kitchen Table discussion about local food and fiber. Here is a guy who has worked on a farm his entire life, who puts up 10,000 bales of hay a year, sells his own grain mixtures and basically lives off the land, and now is spear-heading a local movement. While we have bought hay and grain and lumber from him for the last three years, he is probably the last person I would put under the label "visionary". And yet, here he is, driving up and down the valley, stopping at all the farms, big or small, wondering if we would be interested in such a discussion. The group has already met twice, and what a lovely range of farming personalities. The group consists of a couple life-long, honest farmers; there are several yuppy farmers; there are the farmers who want to be organic and use environmentally friendly practices; there are farmers who want to raise exotics; there are farmers who want to barter; farmers who want to sell their goods down in NYC. We have already decided to set up a farmer's marker right in our little village on Thursday afternoons during the growing season. Goods ranging from fruits and vegetables to honey to the fiber arts to meat to homemade goat milk fudge and breads will potentially all be available for sale. Even if it never really gets off the ground, the fact that this particular person had a vision and acted on it is a testimony to all that is good and surprising in the world!
3. At spinning group back in December, we were going around the circle for show and tell (I know, sounds elementary, but it's how we get to see each other's work and share ideas and upcoming events). We get to Mother K, who is a nun and shepherd of actual sheep at the local convent. Mother K had spent all day tending to the animals and had basically decided she needed a break for a while, so she came to spinning group. She stated somewhat sheepishly (no pun intended), "Nobody there knows I'm gone." Then in a more playful confident tone, "It's easier to ask for forgiveness than to seek permission!" Maybe I shouldn't be surprised by this statement as country nuns are people too and need breaks just like the rest of us. And they certainly aren't infallable either.
2. The husband of a friend of mine who is a nice guy and a "real" farmer and do-it-yourselfer (rough around the edges, slaughters his own beef cows, owns multiple tractors, hays his own fields, fells his own trees, builds his own house) stopped by one morning asking me for advice. The questions were initially about nursing school, which caught me even more off guard, because it was the last thing I would expect from this person (he was looking into pursuing a "real" career). We stood around for a while, looking at the pigs, talking about farming, the new USDA-approved slaughterhouse opening up, the harvest, etc. like any country farmers would do. Huh. While my darling husband has been able to navigate this road much more easily than I (no doubt in part because he is male and the perceived "head of household"), it only took me 5 years of running a small farm to earn some farmer respectability. Not bad, in the grand scheme of things. Kristin Kimball writes about a similar experience on her farm in The Dirty Life (I can't quote it exactly because I lent the book out to somebody but I don't remember to whom!).
1. My darling husband and I were sharing a quiet meal together in the kitchen one December day when the dogs started barking. Old Farmer J down the street (another "real" farmer) was at the door. He wanted to know if we were interested in a Kitchen Table discussion about local food and fiber. Here is a guy who has worked on a farm his entire life, who puts up 10,000 bales of hay a year, sells his own grain mixtures and basically lives off the land, and now is spear-heading a local movement. While we have bought hay and grain and lumber from him for the last three years, he is probably the last person I would put under the label "visionary". And yet, here he is, driving up and down the valley, stopping at all the farms, big or small, wondering if we would be interested in such a discussion. The group has already met twice, and what a lovely range of farming personalities. The group consists of a couple life-long, honest farmers; there are several yuppy farmers; there are the farmers who want to be organic and use environmentally friendly practices; there are farmers who want to raise exotics; there are farmers who want to barter; farmers who want to sell their goods down in NYC. We have already decided to set up a farmer's marker right in our little village on Thursday afternoons during the growing season. Goods ranging from fruits and vegetables to honey to the fiber arts to meat to homemade goat milk fudge and breads will potentially all be available for sale. Even if it never really gets off the ground, the fact that this particular person had a vision and acted on it is a testimony to all that is good and surprising in the world!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)