the essence of the thing

Wow, the semester is over! Already! And what a great one it has been for me. I have totally loved the Communication and Culture class that I taught, and am completely impressed with the thinking my students did. I definitely learned a whole lot from them.

This semester we looked at narrative and McDonaldization as ways to better understand how our culture communicates and functions. It was fascinating. For their final papers, they wrote about areas of our culture that are McDonaldized and explored whether or not they thought it was beneficial for our society. For example, a few looked at the McDonaldization of the music industry, recycling, the educational system, and even the McDonaldization of murder and the porn industry. It was fascinating. But what was most fascinating to me was that for many of these areas, McDonaldization actually has led to de-mcdonaldization! People are starting to look around and realize that with the efficiency, calculability, predictability and control that is McDonaldizaion, there is something that is being lost. The "essence" of the thing, if you will. The spirit , the "being" behind the thinking that has created a more efficient and predictable way of life is gone from us.

In between reading the students' essays, I've also picked up Barbara Kingsolver's book, "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle," Eckhart Tolle's book, "The essence of now," and an interview with Wendell Berry. Reading all of these things together has been really interesting. Both Kingsolver and Berry are writing about the absolute importance of farming and community, and the ways in which these things counteract the loss of essence in our society. (That's a bit paraphrased, but I think quite valid.) Tolle's writing seems to focus on the essence that exists behind our thoughts, if we would only stop thinking long enough to recognize it. Regardless, in reading all of these things, I am feeling, more than ever, the importance of being on this farm, (even though it is such a small farm), both for the sake of our family and for the community. This is all good timing, because every so often, like this morning, I feel a bit scared about being here. Like, What the heck am I thinking? kind of thinking. I don't know what to do in certain situations, and it frightens me. It would be totally ok if I were the only one involved, but there are other living things that I am responsible for! And if I don't do the right thing, they will suffer.

I'm reminded of Watkins the goose who died this summer. There were a few days when she kept getting out of the goose pen and heading to the barn. I assumed she was looking to nest, and I wanted her to nest with Waddlesworth. I don't think that's how the goose family works. There was one day when I was working on the deck, busily pounding on something, and I turned around and there she was, just looking at me. She didn't say a word. She just stood there quietly and looked at me. WIthin a week she was dead. What was she trying to tell me, I wonder now? What if I had really stopped and listened to her? Maybe I wouldn't have understood, but the point is I didn't take the time to listen. I wonder now, in hindsight, if she stopped eating because the others wouldn't let her nest. Even so, when she died, Station wrapped his neck around her body and cried like I have never heard any animal cry before. He loved her, and he grieved for her. And if I think too long about it, I feel responsible. And sick to my stomach.

This morning, when I went out to feed the animals, I noticed that Nutmeg wasn't her usual pushy self. She really hasn't been the same since Richard came to live with us, and I've been a bit worried about her, but I just don't know what to do about it. Maybe it's being pregnant. Maybe she's having a hard time carrying the baby. Who really knows? In a few years, with a few goats behind me, maybe I'd be able to tell instantly. But for right now, I have no clue, and that's frustrating.

So I've needed to be reminded of the importance of what we are doing here, as small as it might be. I need to remember that, in the past, people lived on farms for generations, making it seem as if they had some innate sense of what to do to keep their livestock and gardens healthy and strong. I grew up on a farm, but that was 20 some years ago, and the memories I have are somewhat fleeting. Then there is the fact that I really didn't have anything to do with the raising of the animals -- my dad did most of that. So I am in new territory here, floundering here and there, and probably, no, for sure, not looking too suave.

But I'm here, and I think the folks whose work I'm reading would be happy with that, and would be telling me that regardless of how ridiculous I look at times, the here is most important. And maybe that is the essence of the whole thing.