Mundane Musings at Teatime

Sunday began as a calm, serene morning with the wind turbines slowing to a delayed stutter, an ideal scene for Mother's day, a ritual duly observed by a Neubauer family gathering. Hopefully, my mother is receiving her wish, a clean house, though it remains to be seen. Anyhow, amongst the hustle and bustle of participating in multiple conversations, I noticed the large emphasis on family present from the wall decorations glorifying grandparents and grandchildren to the size of the gathering itself. Such things are foreign to me, whose family is scattered in Hawaii, New York, and England to name a few locations. Hence to see a family gathering is an anomaly (the last significant summoning of relatives occurred about a decade ago in Hawaii). Related is the idea implanted by documentaries, such as Food Inc., that family farms are slowly disappearing; yet, where does the family go once their agricultural careers are over? What do they do with a mismatched skill set? Perhaps they remain nearby or never lost their farms in the first place (some can never escape their roots even in South Carolina) much like the finches that feed just outside the window. Though corn replaces their arboreal habitats, the birds remain as mementos to a bygone era of the Iowa grasslands, untouched by the desires of human.

When food was being served with various dished placed upon the island, I noticed a mention of what was the most efficient method of commencing the line. Similar to the food line, much discussion on both the conventional and unconventional agriculture advocates deals with efficiency. Grow more corn, raise more hogs, create more jobs, make more money, live a better life...growth is tied to prosperity it seems.  Hence, when the economy stops growing, jobs are lost, real estate depreciates, and life in general worsens in the eyes of many. However, the birds outside merely grasp onto their feeder, a mesh bag full of seeds, in a most inefficient manner. One peck at a time, these birds acquire their nourishment, yet could they not break the mesh which nervously hangs in the air, thereby liberating the ambrosia locked within? Rather the birds meticulously gain the seed, never thinking about time management or even the ideal manner of gaining the seed enshrined behind the mesh lining. Growth and efficiency are foreigners in the minds of finches; the birds, plants, and life itself merely is.  Efficiency does not matter, but instead the act itself. Yet the world of the human has emphasized it to a point that very few can think in any other way. Planning out the fastest path to a destination, stressing out because a due date approaches, and many other activities spring to mind. In a similar vein, both the birds outside, now tenaciously grasping the mesh bag, and my nearly hour brewed tea, do not strive for efficiency, but rather experience everything and nothing simultaneously with every act. Applying the above to agriculture, can a farmer achieve the sensation of oneness that the cat gains by rubbing against my leg or the bitter black tea, by eschewing the moment for the sake of productivity? Unfortunately, tea time is complete, leaving both an unanswered question and a sense a prevailing empty serenity in my mind, with neither lasting longer than an inward breath.