A friend of mine invited me to go with her and her kids to visit the Amish and see their produce and canned foods that they sell at their farms.
It was a beautiful sunny day and that really added as much to the visits to the farms as the wonderfully bountiful produce did.
To see the choice of lifestyle which places both blessings and burdens in their path was a journey into a different time. Their clothing was simple and clean. Since it is summer, no one had on shoes. Of course, I seldom wear them myself unless compelled, but since most people that I see DO choose to wear shoes it was odd seeing the adults and children moving about barefooted across everything from grass to gravel.
The tomatos were beautiful and rich with colors of the spectrum that generally don't make it to "a store near you". They had yellow and orange and blood red tomatos in addition to the plump beefsteak variety that are so common. They had the green tomatos that reminded me of scampering out to bring in a few choice ones picked from the vine for the supper on a summer night.
Jars sealed with fruits and jellies filled the shelves along side soaps and candles that had been made to sell to the "Englishers" who come to buy, to gawk and to give their community the one thing they can't make for themselves - money.
I plan to go back in either late September or the first part of October and pick up some butter and cheese and milk along with the fall vegetables that can fill my pantry and freezer for the coming winter.
It's well worth the drive up and most certainly worth the trade. They get something that they cannot make themselves and I get produce that is better than what the grocery store carries in stock.
August 9, 2007
August 7, 2007
To Be Heard
There is a need within every human soul to be heard.
Not just that passing and passive listening that really doesn't do much more than offer a temporary patch to the soul that needs the restorative balm of real time, real concern and real love.
Though people tend to lump men into one box and women into another separate box (perhaps with nicer furnishings), the fact is that everyone needs the basic commodities of life to survive.
Food.
Shelter.
Clothing.
Love.
All of those things and certainly the intangible but nonetheless real emotional quantity of love are important. However, I would like to add another intangible that can only be measured through the looking glass of retrospect.
TIME.
The kind of time that takes an afternoon off just because.
The kind of time that flies kites on a brisk April afternoon.
The kind of time that baits your hook and helps you cast out into the channel.
The kind of time that holds the fussy infant and reassures them that they will be fine.
Time to put your feet up and just talk about anything, everything and nothing.
Time to kiss and hug your children before they are grown, gone and absent from view.
Time to plant a garden and reap the harvest of fresh peas for a late supper in the setting sun.
Time to read a favorite book or to read the expression on a face and respond in love to a need.
We need to find the kind of time that lets the warmth of a furry friend soothe our sorrows.
We need to find the kind of time where we drive around together just being with each other.
We need to find the kind of time often offered more to strangers than to family to be truly kind.
We need to find the kind of time that brings quiet and calm to the soul of everyone in our circle.
Most of all, there is a special thing about time that we need most of all.
Time given with no expectation of reward or recompense.
Time offered with no agenda or personal goals.
Time gifted to one who has so little left but needs our time the very most.
Time remembered as a treasure from those moments shared with friends.
Maybe all of the above are the reasons that I am obsessed with time. Or maybe there are reasons still circling that have not yet come in for a final approach and landing.
Either way, time is not my enemy. It never has been. Instead, like the line from a movie I watched a while back, I believe time is a friend that helps us along our journey.
Not just that passing and passive listening that really doesn't do much more than offer a temporary patch to the soul that needs the restorative balm of real time, real concern and real love.
Though people tend to lump men into one box and women into another separate box (perhaps with nicer furnishings), the fact is that everyone needs the basic commodities of life to survive.
Food.
Shelter.
Clothing.
Love.
All of those things and certainly the intangible but nonetheless real emotional quantity of love are important. However, I would like to add another intangible that can only be measured through the looking glass of retrospect.
TIME.
The kind of time that takes an afternoon off just because.
The kind of time that flies kites on a brisk April afternoon.
The kind of time that baits your hook and helps you cast out into the channel.
The kind of time that holds the fussy infant and reassures them that they will be fine.
Time to put your feet up and just talk about anything, everything and nothing.
Time to kiss and hug your children before they are grown, gone and absent from view.
Time to plant a garden and reap the harvest of fresh peas for a late supper in the setting sun.
Time to read a favorite book or to read the expression on a face and respond in love to a need.
We need to find the kind of time that lets the warmth of a furry friend soothe our sorrows.
We need to find the kind of time where we drive around together just being with each other.
We need to find the kind of time often offered more to strangers than to family to be truly kind.
We need to find the kind of time that brings quiet and calm to the soul of everyone in our circle.
Most of all, there is a special thing about time that we need most of all.
Time given with no expectation of reward or recompense.
Time offered with no agenda or personal goals.
Time gifted to one who has so little left but needs our time the very most.
Time remembered as a treasure from those moments shared with friends.
Maybe all of the above are the reasons that I am obsessed with time. Or maybe there are reasons still circling that have not yet come in for a final approach and landing.
Either way, time is not my enemy. It never has been. Instead, like the line from a movie I watched a while back, I believe time is a friend that helps us along our journey.
August 6, 2007
Microwave on High
Thanks to the efforts of a small but vocal minority, we have the ability to cast stones at glass houses with impugnity and apparently get away with it. The debris is still settling and falling from the bridge disaster in Minnesota and already the cries of 'foul' are echoing through the streets of the city.
It isn't enough that a Presidential visit and assurances of aid were offered. It isn't enough that money will be expended to repair and make passable again. It isn't enough that sorrow was expressed for lives lost and property damaged. What is wanted is a microwave solution to a decades old problem.
Wouldn't it be nice if all human suffering was reduced to the time required to heat up a plate of leftovers in the microwave?
Within 5 minutes there would be no abandoned children or hungry orphans seeking a roof over their heads and a meal in their belly. At the lightening speed of making popcorn we could end all wars and greed could be totally eliminated from our vocabulary (as soon as someone determines a fair standard while the soup heats up). Infrastructure would be replaced between red lights and sorrow would be a word in an ancient text.
But I do not believe that would serve to make us better people.
I truly grieve for those who have lost loved ones in tragedy of epic or private proportion. I cry for those who remain displaced and adrift since the violence of Katrina turned New Orleans from a tourism hub to a filthy bathtub full of crime and decaying ruins.
What I can't understand is the belief that not enough is being done that has become part of our collective experience.
People were on their way to help the suffering before the dust settled from the bridge collapse. Food and water headed to New Orleans along with people to aid in the recovery. But the plain truth is in both cases that whining started before the wind and rain died down and before the last piece of bridge rubble fell into the Mississippi.
There is not a speed at which human effort can match undiluted human want. Regardless of circumstances that may be suffered by the unfortunate, the fact remains that adding more ruin to the wreckage doesn't make sense.
Rescuers become victims when they plunge headlong into the fray without waiting for the storms to cease or the bridge to stop falling. And sadly, there will never be a way to save everyone.
But to hear the militant voices crying, you would believe that no one cares, no one came to the rescue and no one intends to help at all. There are those who also complain about the quality and quantity of help extended.
No matter what is done, how it was done, or the speed at which it is accomplished, there will be grumblers who are waiting for someone to rescue them and make everything rosy again with no effort on their part.
Tragedy happens. Rain falls. Storms rage.
But within all of that there must be some sort of spiritual compass that points the way to a peace that surpasses all understanding.
I don't believe we were sent to this life to live in the lap of luxury with every need and want met. While there ARE people who do have that particular burden to bear, there are far more who bear up under suffering that doesn't get daily media attention because the circumstances required to bring news people into their lives is frankly unpleasant and most disturbing to their delicate consciences.
No one likes being a victim. And face it, all of us are blatantly guilty of ignoring the warning signs and bulletins from time to time. Most of us skate by with minimal consequence but sometimes the dire warnings are right and we lose it all.
Then there are the circumstances that place us in the role of victims that had no forewarning.
Unless there is proof of gross negligence or deliberate acts of domestic or foreign terrorism to the bridge or to the storm walls in our chosen examples, we are left with but one choice. Accidents happen. Whether by nature or the choices of another individual, there are always consequences that were unintended and unplanned.
We have to assess our own responses to personal and global suffering. When was the last time that I personally rolled up my sleeve and donated blood, or opened up my wallet to give a few bucks to the Red Cross or another organization who sponsors relief efforts?
Until I can match the microwave with my own response, I can't decide what is fast enough from another person, be they in the private sector or in the government. It's time the microwave was put back into the kitchen and left out of our personal timetables and government responses.
Now is the time that we need to focus on doing what we truly can do at the speed in which it can reasonably be expected to happen.
It isn't enough that a Presidential visit and assurances of aid were offered. It isn't enough that money will be expended to repair and make passable again. It isn't enough that sorrow was expressed for lives lost and property damaged. What is wanted is a microwave solution to a decades old problem.
Wouldn't it be nice if all human suffering was reduced to the time required to heat up a plate of leftovers in the microwave?
Within 5 minutes there would be no abandoned children or hungry orphans seeking a roof over their heads and a meal in their belly. At the lightening speed of making popcorn we could end all wars and greed could be totally eliminated from our vocabulary (as soon as someone determines a fair standard while the soup heats up). Infrastructure would be replaced between red lights and sorrow would be a word in an ancient text.
But I do not believe that would serve to make us better people.
I truly grieve for those who have lost loved ones in tragedy of epic or private proportion. I cry for those who remain displaced and adrift since the violence of Katrina turned New Orleans from a tourism hub to a filthy bathtub full of crime and decaying ruins.
What I can't understand is the belief that not enough is being done that has become part of our collective experience.
People were on their way to help the suffering before the dust settled from the bridge collapse. Food and water headed to New Orleans along with people to aid in the recovery. But the plain truth is in both cases that whining started before the wind and rain died down and before the last piece of bridge rubble fell into the Mississippi.
There is not a speed at which human effort can match undiluted human want. Regardless of circumstances that may be suffered by the unfortunate, the fact remains that adding more ruin to the wreckage doesn't make sense.
Rescuers become victims when they plunge headlong into the fray without waiting for the storms to cease or the bridge to stop falling. And sadly, there will never be a way to save everyone.
But to hear the militant voices crying, you would believe that no one cares, no one came to the rescue and no one intends to help at all. There are those who also complain about the quality and quantity of help extended.
No matter what is done, how it was done, or the speed at which it is accomplished, there will be grumblers who are waiting for someone to rescue them and make everything rosy again with no effort on their part.
Tragedy happens. Rain falls. Storms rage.
But within all of that there must be some sort of spiritual compass that points the way to a peace that surpasses all understanding.
I don't believe we were sent to this life to live in the lap of luxury with every need and want met. While there ARE people who do have that particular burden to bear, there are far more who bear up under suffering that doesn't get daily media attention because the circumstances required to bring news people into their lives is frankly unpleasant and most disturbing to their delicate consciences.
No one likes being a victim. And face it, all of us are blatantly guilty of ignoring the warning signs and bulletins from time to time. Most of us skate by with minimal consequence but sometimes the dire warnings are right and we lose it all.
Then there are the circumstances that place us in the role of victims that had no forewarning.
Unless there is proof of gross negligence or deliberate acts of domestic or foreign terrorism to the bridge or to the storm walls in our chosen examples, we are left with but one choice. Accidents happen. Whether by nature or the choices of another individual, there are always consequences that were unintended and unplanned.
We have to assess our own responses to personal and global suffering. When was the last time that I personally rolled up my sleeve and donated blood, or opened up my wallet to give a few bucks to the Red Cross or another organization who sponsors relief efforts?
Until I can match the microwave with my own response, I can't decide what is fast enough from another person, be they in the private sector or in the government. It's time the microwave was put back into the kitchen and left out of our personal timetables and government responses.
Now is the time that we need to focus on doing what we truly can do at the speed in which it can reasonably be expected to happen.
LiLo on the down lo
How relieved we must all feel! The newspapers and online journals of the lifestyles of the rich and famous herald the good news for us all to bask in and feel warm and fuzzy all over.
Lindsay Lohan is in rehab. . .again.
In UTAH, of all places.
Certainly those nice tee-totalling Mormon people and their fabulous choir can do for LiLo what the Hollyweird crowd was unable to manage. Having determined the evil influence of Tinsle Town must be replaced with HOLY-wood, it is now time to give those pesky current and former polygamists a chance to clean up the cash cow for another run at box office glory and fame, or at least the money that she generates.
While LiLo is gratefully drowning in the vitamin shakes and blended nutritional beverages straight from the Shaklee dealers hands, she will most certainly be approached about joining the most mystical of Mormon icons that is both revered and feared by the world at large. She may not have the willpower to resist drugs and alcohol, but the question here is whether or not LiLo has the ability to resist the seductive pull of becoming a dreaded member of that strange money grubbing cult that is so pervasive in the mountain west.
From Disney saint to sinner to AMWAY distributor - the rise, fall and subsequent meteoric ascent of a Hollywood B-List starlet to dewy eyed saleslady for Tahitian Noni International or Nu Skin, we helplessly watch her become what everyone feared she would be - a pitch woman for everything MLM!
Sure, she's no longer hitting the sauce or snorting up her box office earnings through one nostril with a rolled up twenty on a cracked makeup mirror, but now (horror of horrors!), she has morphed into something that people fear more than a drunk driver on a one way street.
LiLo has become a power broker in a pyramid scheme that make the builders for Cheops and Khufu look like pikers. With her celebrity past and slightly tainted soul, everyone falls at her feet to see redemption in action for only $29.95. Flashing a dazzling smile and a toss of her variously hued hair to the camera, all can be forgiven on the installment plan so long as you provide the names, addresses and phone numbers of 20 of your very best friends who will join you in your own personal building block to Ms. Lohan's new and vastly improved career as a marketing genius.
Who knew?
Soon, her smiling visage will grace the cover of the monthly sales reports for XanGo and 4Life. She will be approached by adherants to the Qing Mei lifestyle to represent the fung shui of the MLM lifestyle.
LiLo will forsake all of Hollywood to be enriched by the freely offered dollars of stupid and deluded Utahn's who honestly believe that if they join her in the pursuit of riches and fortune the MLM way that they can be granted, if not their own day in the sun, at least the money from the venture, which will all be appropriately tithed.
That's the buying power of celebrity.
When the lights go down on the spectacular crash and burn, all that is left is someone who was famous once pandering to the disinterested mainstream and the hapless wanna-be's who might give them one more chance at the bright lights of the big city.
And failing all of that, LiLo is close enough to Sundance to work as a ski-shop bunny hustling boots, bindings and bibs to the rich and/or famous who pass through Utah for its fresh, powdery snow. You know, that white stuff that covers the MOUNTAINS, not to be confused with the white stuff that usually lines their nostrils.
If she gets off of her work shift in time, she can rush to the conference center in Salt Lake City and catch the rehearsal of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Rumor has it she can sing or that she put out a record once. Or twice. Maybe they will give her an audition or invite her to participate in an outreach program to former starlets run amok.
If not, she can console herself that she is in a state where forgiveness is both a wonderful gift and, sadly, a sellable commodity. Everyone likes to see the bad seed made good. That is why the movies that fill our theaters are so popular. We all enjoy fantasy. It is such a refreshing break from the realities of our daily life.
Good luck in Utah, Ms. Lohan. I hope you get it right this time and more importantly, that you do it for the right reasons and the right person - namely, yourself.
Because if you don't, we may well be reading one of those delightfully vague celebrity obituaries that fill a tiny spot of our time until the funeral is over.
And that will only enrich the pockets of the vultures who are omnipresent - just waiting for a chance to make money on the suffering of lost souls.
Lindsay Lohan is in rehab. . .again.
In UTAH, of all places.
Certainly those nice tee-totalling Mormon people and their fabulous choir can do for LiLo what the Hollyweird crowd was unable to manage. Having determined the evil influence of Tinsle Town must be replaced with HOLY-wood, it is now time to give those pesky current and former polygamists a chance to clean up the cash cow for another run at box office glory and fame, or at least the money that she generates.
While LiLo is gratefully drowning in the vitamin shakes and blended nutritional beverages straight from the Shaklee dealers hands, she will most certainly be approached about joining the most mystical of Mormon icons that is both revered and feared by the world at large. She may not have the willpower to resist drugs and alcohol, but the question here is whether or not LiLo has the ability to resist the seductive pull of becoming a dreaded member of that strange money grubbing cult that is so pervasive in the mountain west.
From Disney saint to sinner to AMWAY distributor - the rise, fall and subsequent meteoric ascent of a Hollywood B-List starlet to dewy eyed saleslady for Tahitian Noni International or Nu Skin, we helplessly watch her become what everyone feared she would be - a pitch woman for everything MLM!
Sure, she's no longer hitting the sauce or snorting up her box office earnings through one nostril with a rolled up twenty on a cracked makeup mirror, but now (horror of horrors!), she has morphed into something that people fear more than a drunk driver on a one way street.
LiLo has become a power broker in a pyramid scheme that make the builders for Cheops and Khufu look like pikers. With her celebrity past and slightly tainted soul, everyone falls at her feet to see redemption in action for only $29.95. Flashing a dazzling smile and a toss of her variously hued hair to the camera, all can be forgiven on the installment plan so long as you provide the names, addresses and phone numbers of 20 of your very best friends who will join you in your own personal building block to Ms. Lohan's new and vastly improved career as a marketing genius.
Who knew?
Soon, her smiling visage will grace the cover of the monthly sales reports for XanGo and 4Life. She will be approached by adherants to the Qing Mei lifestyle to represent the fung shui of the MLM lifestyle.
LiLo will forsake all of Hollywood to be enriched by the freely offered dollars of stupid and deluded Utahn's who honestly believe that if they join her in the pursuit of riches and fortune the MLM way that they can be granted, if not their own day in the sun, at least the money from the venture, which will all be appropriately tithed.
That's the buying power of celebrity.
When the lights go down on the spectacular crash and burn, all that is left is someone who was famous once pandering to the disinterested mainstream and the hapless wanna-be's who might give them one more chance at the bright lights of the big city.
And failing all of that, LiLo is close enough to Sundance to work as a ski-shop bunny hustling boots, bindings and bibs to the rich and/or famous who pass through Utah for its fresh, powdery snow. You know, that white stuff that covers the MOUNTAINS, not to be confused with the white stuff that usually lines their nostrils.
If she gets off of her work shift in time, she can rush to the conference center in Salt Lake City and catch the rehearsal of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Rumor has it she can sing or that she put out a record once. Or twice. Maybe they will give her an audition or invite her to participate in an outreach program to former starlets run amok.
If not, she can console herself that she is in a state where forgiveness is both a wonderful gift and, sadly, a sellable commodity. Everyone likes to see the bad seed made good. That is why the movies that fill our theaters are so popular. We all enjoy fantasy. It is such a refreshing break from the realities of our daily life.
Good luck in Utah, Ms. Lohan. I hope you get it right this time and more importantly, that you do it for the right reasons and the right person - namely, yourself.
Because if you don't, we may well be reading one of those delightfully vague celebrity obituaries that fill a tiny spot of our time until the funeral is over.
And that will only enrich the pockets of the vultures who are omnipresent - just waiting for a chance to make money on the suffering of lost souls.
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