...quiet, about a lot of things...
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
God and The Manure Pile
Which is to say she, produces great mounds of manure.
So she is an elephant...and her stall mate is a pig. Not so much it the production department. But careless, even hostile in the placement. If Roux, my gelding, was a man,he would DEFINITELY leave the seat up...and pee all over it while he was at it.
Odd subject matter, Wendy, you may be saying right about now, and of course you would be right. But this, folks, is part of my life. Housekeeping for farm animals.
Farm animals. If they could speak, I know that both of my horses would not be happy with that moniker. If I still had my grey mare, Callie...Well, she would have slapped me hard right across my face. Farm animals indeed! Pleasure vehicles is more like it.No.... HIGH END Pleasure Vehicles!is even better...
But, whatever they may be named, I pick up after them..a lot.It's strenuous work. It's dirty work. However, it's also some of the most spiritual work I do.
I read Eat,Pray,Love over vacation. I'm very late to this party I know, but I finally read it. While on a spiritual mecca in India, along with chanting, the author was given WORK to do. Hers was scrubbing floors. Mine is scooping poop.
Same thing. It's service work. It's lowly work. By this I do not mean it is beneath me. Just the opposite. I just mean that it is work that does not feed the ego. It is repetitive, physical, and necessary. It's also something that will never win much recognition.
And yet, if neglected, things quickly become a real mess. Now here's the service part for me. They become a real mess for my horses, who again, if they could talk..would probably say That they don't care a rats behind whether their stall is clean..(sorta like my teen aged daughter...but I digress.)They probably don't even notice as I drag four huge muck buckets of dung out of their pen everyday.
Still, this is what I do. I humble myself to them...The same one who sits on their backs and trys not to bark the orders too loudly.. The one who points them at obstacles and demands they actually JUMP them....The one who insists on molding their necks and dictating their tempos..at the end of it all, it is that same one who picks up the fork and tends to them.
Where is God in all of this? He is in the ebb and flow of power. He is in the rush and fall of leadership. He is in the humble strength of submission. He is in us both, as we give service to one another.
He is in the pride of a simple, sweat producing job well done. He fills my heart with purpose, as I survey they pristine pen; my fork tine having made quiet marks all over it like a large sand zen garden. I am peaceful.
He is also in my horses...as one of them always seems to meet my eye...and then proceeds to leave a little..shall we say, FLOURISH...to finish my masterpiece. One new pile in the tranquil space. One new pile that represents the NOW.
God is in that Laughter, too.