easy like sunday....day

Today was Sunday. Sundays on the farm are glorious. It is as if everything stops in the world of agriculture to slow down and enjoy its rewards.

This is a list of reasons why Sundays at the farm can't be beat:

-waking up to the smell of mango scones and then enjoying them together
-weekly Ted Nugent radical conservative rants http://www.wacotrib.com/news/content/news/opinion/nugent.html
-all community members discussing where they are/aren't going to attend church
-hour long bike rides through the ghetto to get to church
-haphazardly preparing a chicken (previous post)
-enjoying the chicken ( from previous post. which was infreakincredible. baked with rosemary garlic and grapefruits.) and fried potatoes
-sitting out on the grass listening to someone play music, reading Rilke poems, and discussing the vagabond lifestyle with a visitor/friend.
-watching the sun go down over the vegetable gardens
-Kristin bringing back cheese and cookies from College Station

These are some of the things that really make life around here. It's not the work or the delicious food. It's the time when we all can really live together and share in life's joy.

for too long.

For too long
I've been afriad of change,
afraid of losing change,
afraid of being change.

For too long
this body has failed me,
I have failed this body,
I have loved this body.

For too long
we've watered the plants,
waited for the plants,
planted in gardens.

For too long
I have believed in God,
Hoped for God,
Forgot who God is.

For too long
I've wanted the end,
dreaded the end,
acknowledged an end.

Loud and Proud!

I went to mass tonight with a friend. Behind us sat this little girl with her mother. Both were wearing lacy headcoverings. I didn't think much of them until we sang the song "Sanctuary". This little girl was singing this song at the top of her lungs! Not many of the folks in the congregation knew the words or really even seemed to care, but this girl was belting it out like her life depended on it.

Someday she realize just how much her life depends on it! But for now the gaudy, obnoxious singing should serve as a example to the rest of us. We must be out there. We must be odd. We must be his. This little girl was singing her loudest and best and she is first in the kingdom.

An old saying goes, "If you can't dance, it's not your revolution!" And this is my cry.



Let the lover be disgraceful,
Crazy, absentminded.
Someone sober will worry
About things going badly.
Let the lover be.
-Rumi

Here comes!

Alright, new blog! I will begin this as an experiment to check my responsibility to a blog. I will attempt to post both past and future blogs I have written. Good luck.