The Navajo are renowned for their work on the loom. Scrutinize any weaving from a Navajo artisan and you're bound to swear the work is perfect. But you'd be wrong. It will only be nearly perfect, because each weaver intentionally places an imperfection, called a "spirit string", in each piece. The spirit string serves two purposes. First, because they put so much of their soul into their work, they leave a loose string so their spirit can find a way out of the weaving and not be trapped in it. Second, they believe the things of man cannot be perfect and take ownership of the imperfection, weaving it consciously into their work so they know where it is.
I confess I am the inverse of a Navajo weaving. I am a tapestry of flaws and shortcomings, with failings too numerous to enumerate (but that hasn't stopped anyone from trying). Label me a misanthropic malcontent who has found it difficult to reconcile my personal values with the commonly accepted goals and motivations that are the basis for living in this culture - especially in the area of employment. Curious and philosophically unsettled, the hobo way manifest itself early in my youth where, after my release from my high school sentence, I began hopping trains: finding work in a migrant camp picking cherries in Springville, Utah, roughnecking in Utah and Wyoming, working section on the railroad in Helper, Utah, planting trees in the mountains around Telluride, Colorado, working as a painter's assistant in Petaluma, California. As I got older, jobs took on a more "professional" air and I found work as a teacher, nurse, sales manager, marketing director [this is a much abbreviated list] - but still moving from one job to the next, finding little satisfaction in any of them for very long. Restless and lacking financial stability, I am any spouse's nightmare - imperfection personified.
There is another side to imperfection, however. Coming to terms with man's, nature's, and/or our own deficiencies can be a driving force for change and an impetus for creating. As I mentioned in an earlier blog, it was the realization of the failings of the industrialized food system on the macro level and a bust pumpkin crop on the micro level that awakened my desire to explore sustainable agricultural practices and to create a small working apiary and farm. My own social flaws make me an ideal candidate for farming. It fits my introverted personality, allowing me to work without being surrounded by the noise of others and to joyfully focus on the job at hand.
Don't misunderstand me. I enjoy the company of others; the gathering of the Farmer's Market or sharing a well prepared meal with friends. But I seldom seek a crowd just for the sake of being around people. I'm not one to have the television or radio on in the background when I'm alone. I'm often alone but rarely lonely.
The land too is "imperfect" in the context of growing crops other than grass, so I compost the soil to enrich it. I plan on putting pigs on a section of the farm this coming spring that I want to plant the following Spring. The pigs will "roto-till" the soil, eating the grass and plants that currently grow on it, while working in their droppings, providing a premium organic compost as they go about their business. Imperfection is not failure. It is contextual and temporal.
It's counter intuitive that all these forces of imperfection should coalesce to generate something of greater value than their flawed individual parts, but it is true, nonetheless. The farm for me is a spirit string that allows me an escape from my imperfect weavings. I find some personal redemption in that.
Don't misunderstand me. I enjoy the company of others; the gathering of the Farmer's Market or sharing a well prepared meal with friends. But I seldom seek a crowd just for the sake of being around people. I'm not one to have the television or radio on in the background when I'm alone. I'm often alone but rarely lonely.
The land too is "imperfect" in the context of growing crops other than grass, so I compost the soil to enrich it. I plan on putting pigs on a section of the farm this coming spring that I want to plant the following Spring. The pigs will "roto-till" the soil, eating the grass and plants that currently grow on it, while working in their droppings, providing a premium organic compost as they go about their business. Imperfection is not failure. It is contextual and temporal.
It's counter intuitive that all these forces of imperfection should coalesce to generate something of greater value than their flawed individual parts, but it is true, nonetheless. The farm for me is a spirit string that allows me an escape from my imperfect weavings. I find some personal redemption in that.
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| My friend Pat enjoying the grueling work of brewing |
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| the mash |
Winter is a great time for brewing. With the weather gray and cool and the outdoor work load reduced, brewing provides a creative activity with which to occupy oneself. I spent the greater part of this past Sunday in the garage brewing a 15 gallon batch of Oatmeal Espresso Stout with the help of my friend Pat. I even worked in two pounds of honey into the recipe, giving my bees a part of the process. As I write this, I can hear the sound of CO2 bubbling through the airlocks on the fermentors as the yeast converts the sugars to alcohol. If there are any all grain homebrewers who would like the recipe, you can email me at: lostroadfarm@yahoo.com. I would be happy to share the recipe with you.
