Farm Fresh Blog

On occasion the stage tilts and as actors in this great play of life, we reach and flail in a desperate attempt to grab hold of something stable to catch ourselves as we slide into the abyss. On some days we are chess pieces on a board shaken by an angry child. Some would argue the child is merely a misunderstood, downtrodden victim of society. The media would have the world believe that we have brought this temper tantrum upon ourselves, that the child is merely acting out in defense, that we are the cause in this shift.

We watch helplessly in anger and disbelief as one by one our brothers are tossed into the air and smashed against the wall. The media provides round the clock coverage, fueling the tantrum of violence. We watch the stories ourselves and shake our heads in wonder as more fuel of lies and half-truths are tossed on the flame, and sheep dance with wolves around the fire. When did the sheepdog become the enemy?

The sheep mock and jeer at the very men and women who have sworn to run through the flames to protect them. Wolves peek from underneath sheep's clothing as they whisper and shout that all sheepdogs are really wolves with badges. We sheepdogs find ourselves running a game of defense before we can even ferret out the wolves in our own ranks. And even as we hunt, our brothers are smashed in pieces on the floor by wolves, their deaths cheered by sheep.

The sheep may stare in brief horror but their attention is soon diverted by the wolf's whispers. We sheepdogs quietly bury our dead, put on a badge the next night, and go out again to protect the sheep. Our world has recently become one big Mardi Gras parade of drunken sheep and wolves dancing behind masks as the confused sheepdog tries to sift through the shouting and chaos to find the truth.

This wildly spinning drunken parade weighs heavily on those of us who wear the badge and carry the responsibility. I know these sheepdogs. I am one, so is the single mother with the new baby who lives in a state of exhaustion to provide for her child, so is the young man whose wife was just diagnosed with breast cancer, so is the student who goes to college during the day and fights crime at night, so is the old man who has lost years of baseball games as his children grew up while he was out protecting your children.

The wolves paint us all as nameless, faceless soldiers hiding behind raid gear, bent on world, and sheep, domination when the truth is that we just want to get up in the morning, enjoy our lives, provide for our families, and protect yours. I ponder all this as I milk a goat in the early mist. Yes, we all do have lives outside of world domination; I am also a farmer. The chaos on CNN and FOX News is slowly dulled by the pinging of milk hitting the side of a bucket. I have a brief respite from the media storm raging outside as the goat patiently chews her grain.

Time slows as the bucket fills and the milking becomes silent meditation. I am lulled away from the chaos of an artificial world of concrete and hatred to a simpler place where sheepdogs are black and white collies and wolves don't wear sheep's clothing.