Nourishing Bites | A Common Language
First things first.
Thanks to so many of you who expressed concern for our well being this past week. What an outpouring of love!
We’re happy to report we are safe and healthy. There is a lot that still must be done, and so we mask up and do it. We miss keeping our window cracked open at night. We remain concerned for our animals who can’t escape the smoke.
We’re pleading for rain.
And all the while, we’re so grateful each day- for a house, for clean water, for the stability of our farm. We are still harvesting. We are still sowing winter cover crops. We are still saving seed for the years to come.
We miss the sky.
And yet, the doe and her fawn we’ve watched all spring and summer are still visiting us at dusk to munch on ground fall apples. Our colorful peppers are still ripening, our fall cole crops are vibrant and robust, our winter squash leaves are fading back to reveal bright fruits, and it’s just about time to plant garlic.
In short, Life is moving onward, and with as much gratitude and patience and hope as we can muster, we are too!
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Over the years, I’ve written quite a bit about my belief in systems thinking, that we are all connected, that my farm is full of intricate, never-ending exchanges and interactions of a complexity hard to imagine.
Yes... hard to imagine until smoke fills our skies and we realize how even clean air is a common language.
During these tenuous times, it’s so important to recommit to the work of protecting such connection points- these touchstones to which we all can relate, to which everything is at stake.
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Lullaby the Barred Holland arrived at the farm as a day old chick in September 2017, and immediately made quite an impression. Each day I’d tend to the brood of chicks, she’d jump right up on the window sill and insist I pick her up so she could coo (sing her lullaby) to me. Then I’d feed her a special treat out of my hand, at which point she’d turn and fly back to the flock without a glance back. Every day, the same sweet song. What a bird.
Last week, when walking back from the field, Lullaby met me at the gate. We walked across the drive lane together, and she did most of the talking. I rescued an overripe tomato from the compost bucket and set it at her feet. She sang a little cluck-cluck thank you to me and suddenly I remembered an essay inspired by Lullaby and my Mom and finding commonality by celebrating individuality.
It seems more timely now than when I wrote it. For this is the time to take stock, to assess both where we are and where we want to go.
Boy do I miss free hugs.
It takes sheer effort- this living wholeheartedly in the world.
It takes unwavering intention. It takes practice. It takes failing and getting back up. Too often I muddle the lines between committing and doing. I renegotiate what I said I would do because when the moment comes, I don’t “feel” like it.
Phshaw. We can’t control life.
But, now, of all times? It’s best to get on doing the work.
“Systems thinking leads to another conclusion, however—waiting, shining, obvious as soon as we stop being blinded by the illusion of control. It says that there is plenty to do, of a different sort of “doing.” The future can’t be predicted, but it can be envisioned and brought lovingly into being.
We can’t control systems or figure them out. But we can dance with them (see “The Dance”)! I already knew that, in a way, before I began to study systems. I had learned about dancing with great powers from whitewater kayaking, from gardening, from playing music, from skiing. All those endeavors require one to stay wide-awake, pay close attention, participate flat out, and respond to feedback. It had never occurred to me that those same requirements might apply to intellectual work, to management, to government, to getting along with people.
But there it was, the message emerging from every computer model we made. Living successfully in a world of systems requires more of us than our ability to calculate. It requires our full humanity—our rationality, our ability to sort out truth from falsehood, our intuition, our compassion, our vision, and our morality.” ~Donella Meadows
I keep a copy of The Dance at my desk. It never fails to motivate me. It’s a common language of care.
It’s my road map for living life. Together.
Mask or no mask, right now I’m so thankful for meaningful work that needs doing. ~AJ
The Dance
By Donella Meadows
Get the beat.
Listen to the wisdom of the system.
Expose your mental models to the open air.
Stay humble. Stay a learner.
Honor, protect and distribute information.
Locate responsibility in the system.
Make feedback policies for feedback systems.
Pay attention to what is important, not just what is quantifiable.
Go for the good of the whole.
Expand time horizons.
Expand thought horizons.
Expand the boundary of caring.
Celebrate complexity.
Hold fast to the goal of goodness.
One path forward
“I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change....I’m changing the things I cannot accept.”