Thursday, March 15, 2012

The Honor System

I feel like a vegetable seller putting what has grown, by the hand of the Great Mother Father God, out by the side of the road. Meticulously have I scoured the forest and lowland for marsh hay and rotting wood. Elements of my compost piles. I have tended what was once cast off as worthless to enrich my understanding and do my homework. I have continued to hone my craft turning sow's ears into silk purses. Over the years, I have let vast heaps of crap decompose under my hand, with watchful eye and watering can at the ready, intent on just keeping it "going". I honor the unfurling banners of protesters back through the generations, still inspiring vitality, in my blood. I have accepted gracefully the decades-long process of nourishing the great soil that supports my garden of thoughts and ideas. A single pass over with a bit o' mulch would never have done for the produce that I pedal, no. Nor could a single crop of rye, no matter how many swollen heads it might yield stand up to the complex and diverse offerings which I gladly put to the road for the hungry, the needy, the travelers.

Who among us has not passed a wagon by the side of the road or the rustic lean-to or shack with it's tattered awning for shade over the precious morsels sprung from the cornucopia of the land?  Rough tables or benches set about with squash, corn or tomatoes, strawberries and peas of Spring or beans and cabbages of Summer? Whilst the farmer, unseen, continues to tend and prepare more food for our tables we have the luxury of touching these fruits, touching and smelling them or by our own choice taking them home and making them part of our selves, the beneficiaries, of one others labor.

The times that I cracked the hard-pan, cleaved great clods of clay, broke them with finger wilting will, enhanced them with my own breath, with life. The times that I ruminated upon and scattered about the building blocks of new growth, balanced the elemental forces which would care for and nourish the soil. These times are reflected in the auburn orbs which burst delightfully onto the palate. In times of no rain, I had to be water-boy to my tender tendrils and burgeoning spinach. When the hail hit I mourned the disheveled Swiss chard and the holey leaves of the rhubarb. Through this, the building up, the tearing down and the faithful tending to the needs of my charges, it was always out of a concern and devotion to others. People I may never see, but who I care greatly about and have great compassion for. People who need to hear the ideas that I cultivate, patiently divide and nourish.

My ideas are set out to the side of the road in this forum and I humbly ask that for my toil, which is but a labor of love for you, that you put a reasonable fee in the coffee can. You know, the one with the slit in the lid and some coins rattling about along with the bills. I have heard that this method of payment can work. A restauranteur www.facebook.com/panerabread has instituted a pay what you can system for several new restaurants across the country. and the prospects of opening more is quite good. I believe that the St. Louis store typically gets about 30% more than the asking price from about 1/3 of their clientele. About half pay full price and for the small percentage of people who pay less than the recommended amount, for their part they are not only grateful, but take great pains to show their appreciation in other ways. The loss in revenues for these folks in need are more than offset by the premium that others willingly put in to support the system.

I try to take everyone at face value and do not want to judge. To continue to progress, I must have my can by the vegetable stand as it were. I continue to cultivate some of the best loved soil about "these parts" and when I find seeds worth planting, I rarely miss an opportunity. I see by my increasing readership that many of you have been sharing this blog with friends and I do appreciate it! In looking over my posts, there must be several magazines worth of information here. When I was buying several magazines routinely, I would spend about sixty dollars each month for that stimulation, but it was well worth both the time and money. I recently heard of an Irish storyteller who publishes stories through Amazon, he charges just a dollar per story and he offers a few for free to prime the pump as it were. For my part, I will try the honor system. If you are so inclined and want to read all of my material, shoot me what you would spend on your three favorite magazines. If you want to read just a few of my posts, put in a dollar or two for each, we never question what comes into the coffee can and we certainly won't spend any of that money until we are sure that we can pay for next year's seed order!

Thank-you for your time, consideration and belief that within each of us lies the power to change the world. If I did not leave this realm without blazing a path to sustainability for future generations, my life would have been lived in vain. Compassion and caring for this generation translates into better lives for our children and theirs. We must never lose sight of the fact that our decisions today will outlive us. May my words, more often than not, attune your perception to things that truly matter, not just for today, but forever. Blessings, All!

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