The rhythms of life...

During the holidays I read a biography of John Seymour. He was a guru of self-sufficiency and wrote one of my favourite books. ("The Complete Book of Self-Sufficiency") I loved the book for the heap of practical advice in it, its philosophies and its sense of humour. One example was when he wrote about a tree he suggests burying a dead dog at the base of it. With tongue in cheek he says, "If you haven't got one, find one and shoot it!" The biography showed that here was another writer whose personal life was not as idyllic as his writings might suggest. But it reminded me of my experiences of and yearning for living out self-sufficiency principles. When we were at Apiti we experimented with Self-sufficiency and it has been a part of our lives ever since. We still try growing veges and fruit, still keep making and repairing things and still keep hens. I hope when, and if I retire to get back to doing more of it, there were deep rewards. I will list off some nostalgic memories.

• We purchased year old battery hens and free ranged them. At first they lacked feathers, could not perch and did not know how to peck at grass and insects and such. They were scared of sunlight! It was so great a few months later to see the same hens running around, fully feathered, enjoying the paddock and the stream and being harassed by an ever horny rooster. The eggs had a thick consistency and were a rich yellow.
• We drank copious quantities of goats milk and made our own yogurt and cottage cheese. Simply delicious.
• We installed an old wood stove and would clean up farmers' fallen trees to keep it going. We could cook, heat the water and heat the house with this stove. A kettle perpetually sizzling on the stove was a great feeling of "home".
• There was something really neat about looking at your big colourful meal of meat and fresh veges and knowing that you had grown everything on your plate.
• There was the absolute joy of watching, sometimes helping kids to be born. They were always a delight with heaps of energy and mischief.
• There was a sense of peace, quietly rounding the goats up and one by one milking them. Each had a different personality and each had their preferred order of walking in and being milked. Sitting milking a goat with your ear up against their warm tummy, hearing it rumbling away there was something so real. You knew that this "machine" had taken grass, dock leaves, blackberry leaves and all sorts of other greenery and turned it into beautiful milk! And it would do the same by tomorrow morning, and again at night. If it was cold and wet, production went down, the goat had not eaten as much. One goat would finish eating whatever pallets you put for her to have while you milked her,then pick the container up throw it aside and turn her head and softly nuzzle your ear until you finished milking.
• Then there was the killing of hens or male kid goats for meat. What was a job you tended to put off became a sacred experience as you realised that this animal's life was sacrificed for your table. Food became so much more precious and meaningful.
• You appreciated the weather so much more. If it rained you were thankful for it, it was not just a nuisance. The sun too was appreciated and the balance of hot and cold, night and day and the different seasons. There was a new sensitivity and appreciation of life, creation and its balance.

One of the hassles of modern society is that we lose touch with the rhythms of life. We lose that sense of appreciation, sensuality and awe at the provision of nature. I recall once we offered someone I was budgeting for some free surplus eggs. He turned us down, he wanted "real eggs from the supermarket". He was suspicious of home grown ones. I once heard of a program for troubled young people that taught them to do a vege garden and raise hens. I would think these simple activities would bring so much that is "spiritual" into their lives. I will always dabble in self-sufficiency, thank you John Seymour.