Week 5 Letter from a Farmer

First of all thank you for the many supportive letters we received from you as a response to Jody’s letter of “Gone to hail.” This week, I have chosen to write about some of our farm methods related to biodynamics. I could highlight all the quantifiable angles: the aspects you can count, measure and weigh. On this farm we rely a lot on numbers and good research and we respect the good science that comes from our friends at Cornell. So, what is it that opened us up to the rather extraordinary exercise of taking cow manure and placing it in a horn, to bury this in the ground over the winter, stir it for one hour in plenty of warm water and to spray this concoction over a field? Is this an exercise of faith and is there any science involved? And what is scientific anyway?
The natural world is always contextual; no creature lives by itself. No tree lives without the soil, sun, moon, birds, rain, bees, worms etc. We consider the farm as a whole to be an organism – a very messy concept indeed, as it includes not only the total farm and surrounding ecology, but also its economy, the community, etc. This goes way beyond our ability to accurately count, measure, and weigh. Therefore, some scientists will ignore an outcome that has too many fluctuating variables. A researcher friend once observed that something else is going on at our farm, and actually on all these biodynamic farms. “Whatever it is you do, keep doing it,” he said. The way he said it implied that he couldn’t quite put his finger on it – something intangible, something you can only feel and experience by walking the farm. Only by understanding the details will we fully appreciate the whole. Maybe contextual science is the “ultimate” science. But this will demand a complete new awareness whereby we can separate feelings from sentiment, and thoughts from garble. I am not ready yet, but I can imagine what it looks like.
The context of this biodynamic farm includes its relationship to the people who depend on it. Roxbury Farm is the result of a shared vision of the farmers and many of the original members. Following a dream or a vision means taking a chance, and our early members were fully aware of that. When we started the CSA, no one had heard of the concept. Following new ideas can be terrifying, but at some point you have to let go and jump. Visions are like dreams and are part of the context of this farm. Dreaming to me means “to sense an emerging future.” Someone who makes an effort to sense an emerging future is probably more likely to accept the idea of putting manure in a horn than someone who wants proof before the act.
When you act on a dream, you act more out of listening to an inner voice than out of calculation. Those decisions create either the greatest delight or the greatest despair, and usually the most memorable experiences. The greatest decisions in my life have been made by trusting the faculties that have little to do with numbers. Here we lean on a different ability – the words intuition, empathy and love come to mind. Fortunately, there is hardly a traditional learning process required: no downloading of information, only the ability to surrender and to develop an open heart and an open mind. (Someone once told me that the mind is like a parachute: it works best when it is open.) A long time ago, an inner voice told me to become a farmer. Since then I have felt blessed and cursed by my job, but I have never doubted that decision; it is a lifelong discovery to understand the purpose of this “calling.” (As I write this, Jody and I are feeling quite a bit of discomfort – I threw my back out and Jody had a minor farm accident – but I am writing this to make a point, not to gain your sympathy.)
Some people associate listening to an inner voice with spiritual or religious matters; maybe true, but even nonbelievers still utilize it when they make the most important decisions in their life. Art and religion cultivate or help us to articulate these experiences. Art might well be the vessel for the modern-day transcendental experience. I happen to have been raised as a Catholic, so I am most familiar with the stories of the Old and New Testament. If I had been raised as a Muslim or Hindu, I would be able to find stories of these experiences in the Koran or the Bhagavad Gita. In my mind, every religion is truthful, as all of them can be a meaningful way to get closer to the divine part of our Self and the world. Good religious practices allow us to open up our minds, hearts, and wills and stop us from listening to the voices of judgment, cynicism, and needless fear.
A Christian community priest once said that going out and spraying the horn manure preparation on the field is a similar act to that of the woman who poured expensive ointment over Christ’s head (Matthew 26 and Luke 14). The rational voice in me speaks like the apostles who scolded the woman for wasting such expensive oil. They could have sold the oil and given the money to the poor. Christ responded to the apostles that they should stop bothering the woman as she helped prepare him for his death. My heart tells me that the earth, its people, and other inhabitants are suffering, and that it needs the blessing of our love as much as our daily cares. We need to develop the woman in us.
From Hildegard of Bingen to Bernadette Soubirous, women have had strong visions or apparitions. In the story of Bernadette, Mary asked her to scrape the ground, saying to her “Go to the spring, drink of it and wash yourself there.” There was only a little muddy water to begin with, enough for Bernadette to drink. At first this water was muddy and dirty as the Grotto was a pigsty, then, little by little, it became clear. In its physical content, the water in Lourdes is really no different than the surrounding springs, so what allows it to heal? When I spray water with just a tiny amount of horn manure or silica in it, I intend for this water to heal the earth and its food. Do my intentions matter for this to have its effect? Am I crossing the line here between pure matter and universal life energy? Do I have to make a choice between facts and dreams? Why can’t I give them both their rightful place, as maybe the tension between the two is often imagined.
I have the dream that food will not only nourish us, but that it will eventually be a healing medium again – and this concept goes beyond “safe food.” My dream is of a world where farms and gardens are integral, vibrant, and diverse; in symphony with all living forms and rhythms. It is a world where people have Self determination. In this world, food will have vitality and authenticity. Food can give us the strength to discover our authentic Self, as eating allows for the spiritual world to whisper in our ears. When we listen closely, we might develop a new story for this planet: one that concludes that our presumed separation from this earth is an illusion. Call me a dreamer, but we have to start somewhere. ~ Jean-Paul