Yesterday morning I was cleaning the bathtub when a flurry of feathers attracted my attention. There were three chickens in the hollow trunk of our family tree, the one pictured on the homepage, and there were five more trying to nudge their way in. The brown one is named Nicole's chicken, the black Donna after my Grandma Donna, and the golden is named Henny Penny. She is my favorite.
I reminded me of people trying to break a Guinness World Record for how many people you could cram into a telephone booth. But what motivated these hens? They were completely unaware of the notion of seeking notoriety for the sake of fame.
I saw that they instead sought clarity. They yearned to take a bath and free themselves of an accumulation of 'ick.' Chickens take a bath in the dirt. Odd but true. When they can find a patch of dry loose dirt, they nestle into it, ruffling their feathers and filling themselves with loose dirt. They lay there for a bit and then they stand up and shake all of the dirt away and along with it goes all of the 'ick.' All that clung to their bodies that did not serve them.
I too was able to find a few places where the dirt was dry, loose and workable despite there still being piles of snow in the low-lying areas. I crawled around on my hands and knees gardening, or as my Grandma Donna calls it, 'playing in the dirt.' When I play in the dirt I find myself to be bathed of the 'ick' much like my chickens. Layers of 'ick' the plague me seem to get washed away. Senseless repetitive thought gets washed away and tension in my body gets washed away. After an hour of so of playing in the dirt I am fresh and renewed.
Spring is here. A time of growth and renewal. I'm ready to get outside and revel in the healing affects of Mother Nature… air, light, water and let's not forget dirt!
I reminded me of people trying to break a Guinness World Record for how many people you could cram into a telephone booth. But what motivated these hens? They were completely unaware of the notion of seeking notoriety for the sake of fame.
I saw that they instead sought clarity. They yearned to take a bath and free themselves of an accumulation of 'ick.' Chickens take a bath in the dirt. Odd but true. When they can find a patch of dry loose dirt, they nestle into it, ruffling their feathers and filling themselves with loose dirt. They lay there for a bit and then they stand up and shake all of the dirt away and along with it goes all of the 'ick.' All that clung to their bodies that did not serve them.
I too was able to find a few places where the dirt was dry, loose and workable despite there still being piles of snow in the low-lying areas. I crawled around on my hands and knees gardening, or as my Grandma Donna calls it, 'playing in the dirt.' When I play in the dirt I find myself to be bathed of the 'ick' much like my chickens. Layers of 'ick' the plague me seem to get washed away. Senseless repetitive thought gets washed away and tension in my body gets washed away. After an hour of so of playing in the dirt I am fresh and renewed.
Spring is here. A time of growth and renewal. I'm ready to get outside and revel in the healing affects of Mother Nature… air, light, water and let's not forget dirt!