On a Chicken Lesson
For the last five days, I’ve had seed packets, egg cartons, and starter soil scattered across the table. The kids “planted” a few seeds on Good Friday before they left for their dad’s, but I’ve avoided watering them because I don’t have them set up for success with a light, tray, etc. Today I haven’t even done a good job of watering myself, so my delay with the seeds seems wise.
After several weeks of pretty intense activity, I’ve had a few days that have felt slightly less frantic (I took an intentional nap on Sunday, please congratulate me). But I’m struggling because suddenly it feels like that tiny bit of space has created a vacuum for all my energy. I still have heaps to do, but I feel minimally functional. I am behind on a work deadline and tried to give myself a focused hour of writing time, but, even after getting appropriate sleep last night, all I wanted to do was put my head down on the desk.
I’ve also been without the kids for four days, which creates a kind of space that I don’t always know what to do with. I’m desperate for it, and then it arrives and something’s not right. I feel not-at-ease. I need rest. I need time for myself. But they should be here. It’s just…one of those liminal spaces I tell people it is so important to inhabit.
I know I need the space, but I’m less than thrilled at some of what pops up in the absence of the presence-centering of parenting. Today at my therapy session we ended up doing more processing around the end of my marriage, which I want to keep thinking I’m, you know, over.
When I got home from therapy, I let the chickens out of the run so they could enjoy the muddy yard while I walked the dogs. When I returned, one of the hens was under the table on the back porch. When she sensed me walking up the steps, she urgently tried to rejoin the flock by squeezing through the slats in the railing, but she couldn’t fit. She tried one opening, then the next, and then the next. Then she’d go back and try one she’d already tried.
There were flower pots and shoes littered over the deck that created some obstacles for her, but even when I moved them she was anxious to try going that direction. If she’d only come out from under the table, she could have easily flown over the rail and out into the yard.
Eventually, though, she explored far enough from the table – and close enough to me – to find the stairs that led to her relative freedom, and to her companions.
She’s been on my mind the rest of the evening.
Last night I applied for a job for what feels like the thousandth time, only to receive an email today that the position was filled last week. I’ve been applying to new jobs consistently for over two years. And while I’ve been emotionally and mentally distancing myself from financial stress and plummeting professional self-esteem, I feel like I am approaching a point at which something really has to change.
Am I like my little lady, desperately trying to fit through something that is not going to work for me? Is there a barrier above me that keeps me from stretching my wings? Are there obstacles I am afraid to wade through? For my hen, there were so many ways for her to get where she needed to go, but her frantic-ness kept her trying something that wasn’t going to work. In time, and in her continuing effort, she finally found the way of most ease, but she had to step away from what wasn’t serving her.
I don’t think her and my life situations are completely comparable, lol, but I find myself wondering how much my stress and frantic-ness keep me trying paths that are clearly not going to work. Like my chicken, I see the goal, but perhaps I am so focused on where I am going that I don’t examine my surroundings so I can understand what is actually going to get me there.
There is much of how I do life that I love. While there hasn’t been movement in certain aspects of my life, I remind myself that there’s actually been a lot of dynamic evolution in many parts of my life – organizing work, ordination, music, yoga, new friendships, etc. – that has opened up and awakened different parts of me. I’m not just a stuck chicken!
But sometimes I may need to step back, reorient to my surroundings, and consider if I might be pointlessly pushing myself to fit through an opening when I really just need to shift my path.
I don’t have any profound thoughts to sum this up, so just join me in meditating on this chicken-lesson. Eggstra-good chicken puns are welcome in the comments.
Listen: I’ve been really into Avi Kaplan the last few days, who is known for singing bass in Pentatonix but has some stellar solo albums. First Place I Go is somewhat apropos to this post, but also recommend Song for the Thankful and Healing.
Read: Palestine: A 4000-Year History by Nur Masalha – Okay, this might not make sense as related to the post! And I’m only halfway through it – it’s a TOME, and I am listening to it, which makes it a lot easier. But not only is it really giving me a deep historical perspective on the Holy Land when during a time when a lot of narratives are only going back 75 years, but it is also providing a powerful example of the sort of stepping-back and perspective-taking that is essential for discernment. It’s reminding me how much the telling of the story of the past is influenced by the teller, how much language affects our stories, as well as how we are part of a history that stretches back thousands of years and could go on thousands more. It is humbling, grounding, and applicable.