3 Lessons Learned from Foxes and Farmers

Three lessons this week, as I work with intensity on shedding some old roadblocks, boil down to foxes….and farmers.

Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

I have been hyper-focused on this line from Wendell Berry’s “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front” all week.
I try to read a sampling from 2 or 3 inspirational books every morning before I start my day of paid linear thinking. In order to set and reset my soul, I require these early morning deep dives into reading, writing, music and absolutely no math.

Wendell Berry has been in my stack of reading since college, but I only recently returned to his wisdom and voice after many years away. It fits for now, and I have no idea why I wandered off in the first place.

Held up to the light of current language and opinion, his writings might appear to be more conservative, as lines in this poem reflect. The more you read him however, the more he emerges as a champion for anything but the nasty rhetoric now associated with conservatives and “patriots”. Don’t get me started.

1. Make tracks in the wrong direction, on purpose

The fox is a master at trickery, much like the coyote, but smarter. The fox is social, but not to be confused with a dog. To retrace one’s own tracks, or even appear to wander off trail for a while, throws off the larger predator and prey* I don’t think I have any predators (that’s another story) and I’m not looking to pounce on anything except opportunity, but it’s good to have skills. I’m famous in my own mind for wandering off in the “wrong” direction many times, but I always look back and see how to return to basecamp. The concept of basecamp is shifting daily, but the ability to find my way back to it and not leave a big mess on the trail is solid!

*I am not a wildlife biologist or expert Most of my knowledge about the fox comes from poetry and literature and a small family of foxes who live at my workplace – an agriculture research station. This is what they told me.

Your mileage may vary.

2. Relax: Fallow is the rest we need!

Factory farming and mega-ag producers have nearly wiped out the concept of letting the land rest. In our modern grab for more more more (sorry Billy Idol) and the pressure to produce and sell with no down time, the land is not getting rest and recovery. Smart farmers know that the time the land is at rest and recovery is what brings the crop back stronger in the next seasons. Soil needs a break, and so do we.

I’ve never been good at “relaxing” in the conventional sense. When a friend responds to my texts about taking a hike, she often uses the word “relaxing”.

That sounds so relaxing

I gristle and think, who the hell wants to relax? I want to chug my ass up a hill and paddle through high-desert sand and balance on rock outcroppings, followed by a cold beer while my calf muscles tense up and I can’t move when I get out of the car in my driveway. That hobble that comes from slightly overdoing it. ahhh!

something like that.

But she’s right. It IS relaxing, for me. Movement is rest. I’m exhausted from sitting all week in front of the paid linear thought laptop. I need to run or paddle or pedal in circles while my mind and imagination recover. There are so many more productive things I could be doing with my time. My blinds are dirty and dog hair is starting to creep its way into places where food is cooked. I should clean my office and find that file I lost last March. Not a deal breaker for me.

My fallow is to be as far away from a backlit screen as possible. I’m letting it rest. In doing so, I’m coming back better.

Find your fallow. If it’s an hour in some hot springs with a bottle of tequila, I won’t judge. Works for me too! 🙂

3. Chop Wood, Carry Water

The path to Enlightenment isn’t just for the woo-woo among us. I’m reading Seth Godin’s The Practice and it’s freaking amazing. Godin is no stranger to those of us who need a voice sitting on our shoulder constantly to say in his chopped but warm tone; “go on..make a ruckus!”.

He’s not a care-bear Jesus though. The truth is hard but he gets how so many of us just stand and stare at anything risky. His job is to push us off the cliff, but also understand that the WORK has to be done. There is no magic wand. There is process long before the outcome. The process is the most important thing.

Chop the wood and carry the water – every damn day. The rest will come. The farmer and the fox know this. You can’t throw some seed on the ground and expect a crop. Nurture the soil, let it rest, fertilize, compost, turn it under, pray for rain, irrigate, weed, prune (but not too much).

The fox knows food won’t come to where he is. Rest, wake, go look for it.

Hide, make tracks, wrong direction, go back, respect the season and rest, then eat what’s available until the next.

Simple. I think Wendell and the foxes would approve.

My corn light bread just came out of the oven and my house smells like a childhood memory of grandmas and aunts hovering over warm loaves and country ham. I let the mixture rest overnight, made some mistakes (wrong direction) and tossed that mess in at 350 for a while. Stay tuned for the conclusion of the sorghum adventure promised last week

, after I … relax

Making tracks, fallow or doing the work – what’s your secret? I’d love to hear from you. Let it rip – and subscribe. I’m working on making a ruckus that you’ll enjoy