What I Have to Say About That

Are you there, God? It’s me, Goat

The rain came in while we slept, a soft rain, the sort that cultivates those sweet and hazy morning dreams, the ones at the very precipice of consciousness, never less sure of what is real and imagined. And if it matters, anyway.

It is fair to say that our lives are a bit intense at the moment. Last week, Jimmy and I installed the leach field; after that Pen and the boys and I set the foundation stones for the barn, the completion of which was followed in short order by the framing of the perimeter band joists with our friend Blake, who’s working with us two days per week. It’s great to have him, and I’d be saying that even if I didn’t know he reads this space: He is young (not even 30!! Can you even imagine?), cheerful and conscientious, at least half as rugged as me, and furthermore brings us loaves of the dense sourdough rye bread he bakes. We eat it with the butter we churned the day before, and the contrast in colors – the almost-orange of the spring butter, the deep earthen hue of the bread – is something to behold. I’d say it’s too pretty to eat, but the evidence suggests otherwise, so I won’t.

For the barn, we are utilizing a BFR foundation. The “B” stands for Big, of course, and the “R” for Rock. The “F” meanwhile, stands for… well, I’ll leave that to your imagination. The BFR was suggested to us by our friend Paul. It’s cheap, environmentally benign (unlike concrete, for instance, which is pretty rapacious stuff), requires minimal soil disturbance, and, with proper drainage, should prove exceptionally stable. Time will tell, I suppose, but so far, I’m feeling real good about it. I think it’s certainly better than piers of wood or concrete, both of which are prone tipping and tilting as the frost works its rude magic.

Oh, and what do I think about God? I believe that just like spirituality, God can be many different things to many different people. To some, the one creator; to others, the feel of soil in the palm or the sounds of cows grazing; to others still, us. I believe that organized religion is often held up as an answer to questions that can seem unanswerable, and that surrendering the mystery of these questions is a great loss. I guess I appreciate a certain amount of mystery in my life. If nothing else, it keeps me on my toes. I like being on my toes.

I do not believe the world is wicked. Nor people. Indeed, I believe precisely the opposite: That the world is almost unfathomably kind and generous. In my experience, the same can be said of people, and on those occasions when it cannot, it is almost always the result of people feeling compelled to behave in ways that are inherently contrary to their nature. I believe this contrariness is the cause of much current malaise, be it physical, emotional, or spiritual (as if we ought make these distinctions at all).

I think one of the great tragedies of the industrialized economy is that it too often it forces us to treat our fellow humans (not to mention all that is non-human, and this is yet another distinction we might reconsider) with something less than the reverence they deserve. I once heard someone describe capitalism as a sociopathic construct, and I believe there is some truth to this. Maybe a lot of truth.

And that’s pretty much what I have to say about that.