I read this interesting article today about a brain scientist who suffered a stroke and lived to tell about it. There is an 18-minute video of her presenting on her experience I found very fascinating. For a minute toward the end I thought it was getting a little froofy for my taste, but then I realized it wasn’t really, and I should cut her some slack for being so, well, right-brained about it all. We live in a very left-brained world. I recommend you take a look.
I had some theological wonderings about the experience and wished I had the focus and time to write her a letter and talk about the idea of the doctrine of the restored gospel–that spiritual mastery over the physical self (and not just extinguishing or denying the physical self) is the most powerful form of existence. Rather than discounting the value of the left-brain, we can make that amazing analytical function serve the the creative, unifying focus of the right brain. So, I don’t necessarily agree wholeheartedly with her conclusions, but found the whole discussion highly engaging.
And yes, I can very much see how silencing the left-brain “chatter” would bring nirvana. I find my brain-chatter highly annoying and counter productive.
Well, I’ve been in the dirt a lot. My blisters pop and reblister.
I learned the difference between a weed and a tiny potato plant coming up–the hard way of course. There are minute tops of chard and carrots peeking out. I’m hand-shoveling about 1500 sq. feet of new garden in the pasture, because the tractor guy is too busy and I need to break up the sod before we can till (and I have many tall tomato seedlings ready to go in now). I have three weeks before all the planting needs to be done, and I’m on a tight schedule to get soil shoveled, tilled, raked and ammended and seeds/plants planted.
I think I have the wrong ratios in my compost tumbler, so I’m adding more dirt and grass (plenty getting shoveled up in the pasture!) It is theoretically supposed to be done, but really it is just icky. I also found out the grass a friend lent me that I put in there had been chemically treated. Yuck. That could affect the bacteria doing their composting work. I may just start over. Mom gave me the give of 5 big bags of compost, so that is a comfort.
Chickens are so fun! At night I just go into the yard and clap my hands while yelling–“Go to bed! Go to bed!” and they all run in the shed. They have been getting out and going all over the yard–every hour or two we have had to go put them back in. This is due in part to our temporary (shoddy) fencing in the transition space, which I finally fixed up yesterday. But still, chickens everywhere.
Then I realized in the past three days the little ones had learned to “fly” over the fence (the littler the chicken, the higher they can fly–a word used loosely for a chicken). So, Sophie said she saw it this morning and I quit cursing my poor fence mending and went in there with a pair of kitchen shears and cut off half the wing feathers on the right side of every hen (just as the books said to–doesn’t hurt, just like clipping your nails–see pictures), and I’ll be darned if I didn’t have 100% reduction in loose birds today. Everyone happy and confined. Control is such a great thing (although in general, a sense of control over one’s life is such a delusion).
The chickens are also getting super fat, fast, especially the fryers–we’ve only had them a week and it is very noticable. We had lots of rain and everything’s green and pretty. We had a fun Memorial day with the Mocks, the Mosses, and maw/paw-in-law over for a BBQ.
I keep committing to updating daily, even if it is short. But I also commit to restarting the diet each morning. They are going equally well. I’m not good at keeping commitments to myself.