Chicken Epiphanies

Someone sent us an unexpected surprise ~ 15 “rainbow layers” from McMurray Hatcheries (and one poofy headed “exotic” who we have our fingers crossed is also a hen. Be a hen, little one! We have two roo’s, so that job’s covered)

Anyhoo — how random!

Delightful, yes, and the only reason we hadn’t been expanding our flock after some losses to predation this winter (sniffle) was because I felt it was irresponsible to expand a flock that we’d have to rehome should we fail to reach enough people who believe in our dream of a gift economy farm before someone else buys the land.

Upon reflection, a poofy little chicklet fast asleep in my hands, I realized that line of thinking wasn’t in line with what we’re intending, and what we believe to be possible.

This past week or so has been hectic and filled with rejection, and I’ve been a little down.

The news of the “rape manual” kickstarter campaign being funded eight times over was an unexpectedly hard blow, and really knocked the wind out of my sails for a few days.

A lot of news will do that, frankly, which is why I’m pretty selective with it and Vanessa tends to eschew it altogether.

The concept of crowdfunding is so uplifting at it’s very core, that to see someone using it for something so uncompassionate, so out of line with what I feel to be good for humanity — and getting funded eight times over — was deflating.

Coupled with the process of scrabbling to get media coverage and so far not being very effective at it, and the rush to get the farm ready for opening day of what could, in theory, be our last berry season here if we don’t get media traction and reach enough people (eek.) — well, it wasn’t in me to be chirpy and vocally optimistic.

Which is fine. Life is cyclical, and without the bitter, we’d miss the wonder of the sweet.

Thankfully, these surroundings have a way of helping you go within yourself, and gently untangle that which has snarled.

Being immersed in such beauty seems to have a healing effect, and I believe that there’s something deeply special about this land.

It’s not just that we love it, it’s not just that we want to stay rooted here, and grow our dreams — there’s something here that’s deeply magical, spiritual…divine.

We’ve seen and participated in more than a few small miracles here. There’s every reason to believe a big miracle can happen here, too.

I believe that everything is possible, if you believe in it, it resonates with what you know in your heart and gut to be right, and you show up and actively participate in its manifestation. What John Halcyon Styn calls “row with the flow.”

In the same way that seeing the blueberry blossoms become fascinating little alien things, and move through an odd rainbow of colors on their way to blue is a revelation every time I witness it, there’s something uplifting and rejuvenating about new life.

Were these peeps well-timed? No and yes. A squeaking-tight schedule was tossed way off-kilter by the scurrying around preparing for and tending these tiny birds required.

But on an emotional level, they couldn’t have arrived at a more perfect time.

The tender green tips of enthusiasm that were about to break through the crust of discouragement are growing like weeds after a good rain today.

Several of the chicks had pasty butt, which is possibly one of the least pleasant chick-tending things to deal with, and while gently cleaning the tiny, chirping so-alive birds I found myself smiling and thinking of nothing.

That’s what I needed. It’s so frequent outside of the “busy season,” and I’d let my spiritual and self-discovery practices slide without realizing it. I rely on them to stay positive and enthused in the face of resistance. Without them, this vision is unlikely to succeed.

These tiny, adorable little lives have been the perfect reminder.

Thoughts become things. In this case, they seem to have become surprise chickens.



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