Yoga Tales from Rural Maine: You've got to hug your farmer

Peter and I have a very small weekly food budget. It works out to be about $2.50 per person per meal for three meals a day, 7 days a week—and in weeks where there are very few yoga students, that budget drops even lower. There’s a direct connection between work and food for us, which is, by turns, equally stressful and beautiful. It grounds us, but it also often freaks me out. Finding creative, nutritious mostly vegan ways to feed us is a high-stakes adventure. Like everything in life, it’s a practice.

This spring/summer we have made the decision to dedicate 25% of our food money to fresh, local produce from our beloved local farmers. 20% of our weekly budget will go toward our CSA share in Lally Broch Farm, a compassionate and creative homestead doing really good work in the world. We had to pay in advance, which took some kerfoobling, but I made it happen because it matters; it matters in all sorts of ways. The other 5% will go to farm stand and farmers’ market purchases.

Yesterday, I got very panicky about my decision to write such a big check. What if the weather is poor and the farm’s crops fail? What if I’m too tired or too busy or too confused to find ways to prepare or store all of that beautiful perishable produce? In the past, my farm shares have often wound up being compost shares, because I had to compost so many things that wilted before I could figure out how to eat them. (What on earth does one do with celeriac? How much kale can one person really eat?)

But having taken a few years off from farm-sharing, I spent that time doing two vital things: healing my body and learning to cook. I’m still not 100% well, but I have enough energy and stamina to cook more often than not. And I’ve learned how to improvise with what I have in the kitchen. Armed with a salad spinner, a good knife, and my stick blender, I can make anything into a soup or a smoothie.

My hand shook as I took out my checkbook this morning to write my farm share check, but, like everything in life, eating well is a practice. Having faith in one’s ability to be healthy and strong and creative enough to cook is a practice. And if I know how to do anything, I know how to practice. This is what yoga teaches us. Don’t worry; just practice. So, I took a nice, deep breath. I let it out. I found my courage. And I wrote the check. Two and a half weeks of food money all at once, to one place. I made the commitment.

And I was rewarded by a visit from the kindest, most beautiful farmer you could ever imagine. She arrived as planned on my doorstep this morning, wearing striped tights (my favorite!) and beautiful jewelry she made herself out of eggshells (eggshells, I tell you!) and she handed me my pre-season delights: radishes, chives, fresh rosemary, thyme, & mint; beet greens and bok choy (I think); and a spring salad mix. All washed and neatly bagged and fairly broadcasting the loving energy with with they were planted and cultivated and cleaned and brought to me.

We stood there in the sunshine on this bright June day, both overjoyed. She thanked me for some kind things I had posted on Facebook, just when she needed them recently. Her eyes welled up with tears of happiness and gratitude. And when I opened my beautiful bag of greens and herbs, mine did, too. (She even threw in a welcome gift of lavender soap!)

I wanted to hug her, but I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, so I said, “Are you a hugger?” And she embraced me in the warmest hug you could imagine and then she stepped back and smiled and said with jolly vibes and deep sincerity: “You’ve got to hug your farmer!”

Indeed, my friends, you really, really do.

My first pre-season delivery from Lally Broch Farm.

Tales from Rural Maine: Peace, fellow mammals

Yesterday, I worked with an animal communication client, a Dachsund in Florida who wasn't feeling well at all. His beloved human had made an appointment with me because she knew things weren't right and wanted to ask her dog how he was feeling.

I was able to tell her that, among other things, there was fluid in his lungs and that his heart felt congested and there was a sharp, nagging pain in his chest, in or around his heart.

She took him to the vet where the vet used her ears to identify what I had used my body to feel; there was fluid around the heart and lungs. She took xrays, which revealed the other things I had described in our session and they decided on a course of treatment.

My work as an animal communicator never--ever--replaces proper veterinary care. I can't diagnose any condition or recommend treatment. But what I can do is help to efficiently locate sources of pain or illness. I can also communicate directly with companion animals so that questions like, "How do you feel?" "What do you need?" and "Is there anything you will eat?" can get answered. Those of us who have gone through illness and aging and end-of-life decisions with our beloved pets know what a blessing it can be to have answers to these questions.

Yesterday, for instance, we were able to find something this sick dog was willing to eat, so that while we were on the phone, he ate for the first time that day, which was a relief to both human and animal.

Animal communication is telepathic work. It happens over time and space, so location is not an issue. If you have a phone and you speak English, we can work together.

And it's one way that we can offer comfort to both animals and their humans in moments of crisis. One of the most difficult and beautiful things I do is to stand calmly in the moments of profound suffering when it's time to ask an animal if they want help out of their body. I can be there for you in this, and it helps.

If your reaction to this story is "bah humbug" or "she's nuts," that's okay. You don't have to work with me. But if you feel open to the possibility that maybe I can help you and your pet(s) to communicate, about health, behavior, transitions, or anything at all, I encourage you to get in touch. We can even talk to animals who have already passed on. Peace, fellow mammals!

Learn more at my website, http://www.peacefellowmmammals.com

With my niece and a tiny mammal we hoped to adopt from Peace Ridge Animal Sanctuary.