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The Constellation Learning Newsletter
August 2005
“That
is well said,” replied Candide, “but we must cultivate
our own garden.”
Voltaire
The retreat site we used for years was located near fields
that had been farmed for generations. Rich, black soil produced
corn, potatoes, lettuce, tomatoes and more. The fields spread
out to the horizon, dotted here and there with small enclaves
of trees, barns and occasional homes. Cows wandered about
congregating around hay feeds providing ample supplies of
fertilizer. On days when the farmers distributed this dried
and pungent supply over the fields with tractor driven arms
of steel, the aroma floated on the wind for miles.
I was a city gal to these folk, many of whom – most,
actually – had lived in this rural area since they were
born. Their personal lives revolved around the climate cycles;
seasons of the year coupled with proper weather conditions
determine the daily priorities. So on “fertilizer days”
everyone went about their business without any disruption.
If they even noticed the acrid aroma, they never complained
about it. I, on the other hand, seemed always to be caught
slightly off guard. On a perfectly beautiful, crystal clear
day in early spring a sickening stench would suddenly assault
my nostrils. Why do they choose to spread manure on such
a beautiful day as this when people want to be outside?
Exactly. That’s why the farmers are in the fields doing
what they’re doing, you silly city slicker. It’s
a perfect day to spread manure.
Now, as any local dweller can attest, there are different
kinds of manure used for fertilizing: cow, horse, and chicken.
Cow manure gets used a lot, horse manure used less, and on
really special days they roll out the chicken cast-offs.
The first time I smelled that smell (it’s unforgettable)
I had stopped at the local gas station to fill up. Opening
the car door, I thought there might be something really
wrong somewhere nearby. I asked the teenage attendant if she
knew what the stench was.
“They’re spreading manure today,” she
said.
“Whew! It’s potent stuff,” I commented.
“Smells different than other fertilizing days,”
“Yeah, but it’s still sh-t – just chicken
sh-t today.” She started pumping my gas.
“Chicken sh-t?” I lifted my nose to the air.
So that’s what a chicken farm smells like.
“Yeah. Pretty bad, huh?” She followed my gaze.
“Believe it on not, you get used to it. It’s
actually my dad’s farm down the road. The stuff’s
really good for the soil, but it’s so concentrated
you can’t use it all the time else it would destroy
the crops. It’s too concentrated.” She paused
as she replaced the nozzle in the gas pump. “But when
the wind’s movin’ it can sure smell like sh-t
around here.”
We both smiled at the apt use of the euphemism and I paid
her and left.
Eventually I got used to the smelly days. They’re a
great metaphor for life; certain days are just “fertilizing”
days. Out of the blue, on a seemingly clear day, something
will happen and suddenly there’s a metaphoric stench.
Days I deem difficult, unfair or overwhelming are generally
days in which I’m being strengthened, nourished or refined.
Remembering the promise of future “crops” helps
me accept the “smell” of the inconvenient or painful
event. When a smelly day erupts from nowhere I remind myself
to:
- Trust in Mother Nature – she lets you know when
the time is right to fertilize.
- Invest in my Soil – it predetermines future crops.
- Acknowledge the Paradox – There’s sh-t on
sunny days and there’s sun on
sh-tty days.
It may not be true. It may not be right. But it sure does
help me when the wind’s movin’.
I like to think of it as chicken sh-t for the soul.
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