Work is crazy.
Shopping is crazy.
Steem is crazy.
The internet is crazy.
People are crazy.
How the hell are we supposed to deal with all the craziness when it's literally everywhere these days? It's harder to avoid craziness than it is to avoid soy for Christ's sake!
Baby chickens exploring the garden fence by the potato patch.
I keep joking with folks saying things like "at this point, I'm really hoping I get coronavirus so I can stay home away from the craziness for a couple weeks. Please quarantine me to my house with my chickens and my garden, that sounds just heavenly." Of course, I'm only half joking. I don't want to get sick, but my garden and chooks are really grounding right now. They're my solace in a way, my way of escaping the crazy.
Baby Rhode Island red, about a week old
Same rhode island red, a day later
For me, the garden isn't necessarily about prepping for an apocalypse. A lot of folks think that's what I'm doing, but really I'm just trying to eat well for less money and with no destruction to ecosystems. Of course, a lofty goal, but there's still a long ways to go. Folks assume that I'm getting ready for ebola or SARS or coronavirus with my garden, ready for an economic collapse. But that's just an extension of the fear-based scarcity paradigm. I'm doing this because the natural abundance reminds me that there is no scarcity except what we create in fear.
Chickens in the corn patch, eating clover sprouts.
I don't really know exactly what it is. They say there's a soil microbe that's more effective than any synthetic antidepressants. They say the sun on your skin synthesizing the vitamin D from animal fats elevates mood. They say being in contact with the earth grounds you electrically, releasing positive charges that cause stress. They say a lot of things, but all I know for certain is that there is no crazy when I'm outside with the chickens.
Fluffy baby Cornish cross chicken that we'll be raising for homegrown meat.
So for a short answer to what I do to deal with the craziness of the world, I am creating my own space that's resilient to the craziness and that can support me more abundantly than the industrial scarcity model.
Twenty chickens is quite a lot of chickens.
Beyond building my own place, I love documenting it and encouraging others to build their own space. The more resilient spaces there are, the better off the world will be. It's as simple as that.
Baby chick exploring a pecan tree that I've blocked around with logs.
And put more chickens in your resilient spaces. Sitting in dappled shade watching chickens do chicken things is the greatest meditation.
Chooks exploring a garden patch
All action for the good of all