Talking with chickens

I know that you should never judge others with a label, calling someone “mean” or “stupid.” Labels distance us from others, making us “less than” or “better than”. If I make people seem grander than me or less than me, "communication experts" generally agree I could be doing something better. 

But what about with my chickens? Can skillful communication work with animals?

My experiment is starting now and will last through the end of the week.

I’ve been studying a communication method called Non-Violent Communication. This strategy proposes a sequence of: sharing your feelings, what you’ve specifically observed, what your needs are and, finally, what you’d prefer.

It might sound like: “Hey Fred. You know, I feel ashamed and frustrated when you criticize the way I make sandwiches. I guess I have a need for trust and respect. I would prefer you tell me the veggies you want on your sandwich, without saying there’s a ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ way to make sandwiches.”

Clear, simple message. I think I’m understanding. Now, when to apply it? My challenge is that I am living alone, without many opportunities to practice with other human beings. This last time I spoke with my parents over the phone I thought I had the perfect opportunity to practice using some Non-Violent Communication communication. I was going to say something about feeling awkward and put upon by the construction workers that suddenly appear ten feet from my bedroom window at 8 am each morning, constructing a chicken coop/chicken mansion. 

Old habits die hard I guess because I completely botched it and basically just complained instead. One missed opportunity. Happily I’ve developed a new strategy: communicating with my animals!

It’s been 3 weeks and no eggs. My chicken population is not insubstantial. With almost 20 chickens and one rooster, it hardly seems like an unreasonable expectation to get one or two eggs a day – at the very least! I wouldn’t complain if they laid me 20 and I could sell them in town. But alas, no eggs at all.

Will less aggressive, non-labeling messaging induce my chickens to start laying eggs again?

Last night, walking towards the setting sun to put them away, I had the idea to try NVC with my chickens. I began to craft my non-violent communication message towards them. It occurred to me that my subconscious messaging of “You stupid, lazy hens who refuse to perform your sole purpose here and still eat my food” was possibly having an effect on them.

Upon arrival, I attempted a non-violent, Nora to chicken intervention. Here’s what it sounded like:

“Dear Chickens: I feel discouraged and distraught when you lay 0 eggs each day for 21 days. I have a need for cooperation, commitment, and eggs. I prefer you lay at least one egg each day as a signal to me that you are aware of this issue while you sort out whatever is going on.”

That was rewarding and fun! I felt that my chickens understood my more gracious energy as I fed them and locked them in for the night. Inspired, I thought I would try it with my other animals!

“Dear Cat: I feel slightly amused – but also exhausted - when you sit on my pillow and plod your paws and spikey claws into my hair while I am sleeping. I have a need for relaxation and rest. I prefer you lay quietly at the foot of my bed, or elsewhere.”

I will have to wait until this evening to see how effective this communication was.

NVC can also be used to express gratitude, and indeed, it should be. We don’t give each other enough gratitude in this world. We assume that the important people in our lives know it, and that the rest don’t deserve it, or should find it from their important people, instead of from us. To counteract this habit, I said to my geese:

“Dear Geese: I feel pleased and warm inside when you sit right by the gate during the day in order to be near me. I feel this way because I have a need to feel cared about and loved. I like that you want to be close to me and that you eat up all the tortillas I give you. I prefer that you keep it up!!”

It’s a good day when I can express myself clearly, and nonviolently, even if it is only to animals. Maybe it will mean that the next time I’m on the phone with a human being, I’ll stick to the script and get some real experience! Either way, it does me good to be learning, practicing and expressing myself.

I’ll let you know what happens with the chickens …

Magic Time

It’s been a magical weekend… Or rather I should say, I’ve been in a magical place.

I spent last weekend in Atlixco, a designated “pueblo magico” or magic town - highlighted for its historic architecture and culture. I traveled to Atlixco to visit friends, and it was, indeed, beautiful. Its buildings boasted colors rarely seen in US cities – pinks, purples, and, like this house, light aqua green.

The five hour drive on windy roads was grueling. It is so mountainous here that you are required to change lanes – into the on coming traffic – during difficult curves. It was my first time driving in Mexico and there I was, weaving in and out of "my lane" across from huge trucks doing the same. Everyone followed the white signs painted on the road and we made it out alive! 

Finally, I arrived in Atlixco. What wasn’t magical about Atlixco? It was a delight to the senses. Despite the long drive the night before, I was roused early for a trip into the market. At 7:00 am, the weekly flower market looked like this:

By 8:30, it was practically impassible. People flooded the market to take advantage of the regions incredible production of flowers, fruits and vegetables. I had never seen so many flowers in one place before. Being sold for resale, 20 roses cost less than $5. American brides would go crazy to get their hands on that many flowers for that little a cost!

Beyond the market, there were other treasures to be discovered. For example, did you know that the merry-go-rounds we have with painted, plastic horses, and at times even plastic lions and dolphins, used to be produced with real horses? I didn’t!

That’s right, these horses will be walking in circles all day with children on their backs! I even got to indulge my love of small things by getting a picture with this little guy. So, so sweet.

Another common feature of Mexican pueblos that I found in Atlixco are parks with well-groomed shrubbery. In my local town, large shrub-like trees have modeled as homes and birds. Here, I found a very large turtle shrub.

Atlixco was doubly interesting this particular weekend because of our temporal proximity to an important Mexican holiday. September 15 and 16 are celebrated as the days of Mexican Independence. Mexico declared war against Spain in 1810 on the evening of September 15, demanding their freedom. Their Independence Day was named official in 1825. As an extension of this holiday, the weekend was full of patriotism in ways large and small!

Mexico is not the only country to celebrate their independence day on September 15. In fact, much of Latin America claims their right to sovereignty on that day. I was familiar with this, having spent part of my childhood in Nicaragua. Starting on my second birthday (September 15), I used to sit on my front porch and watch a huge parade go by, assuming it was for me! The year that the parade was postponed until the 16^th because of rain, I learned the real reason for the parade. It wasn’t, it turned out, a birthday parade.

There were other parts of the weekend that reminded me of my childhood. The children had fireworks in the evenings that we sent flying in the courtyard. It wasn’t too dangerous and it was very fun! As a little girl in Nicaragua, I used to gather with others on the paved lot next to my family’s house. There, older friends would have fireworks of all kinds. Some I could manage myself, throwing them onto the ground and watching them explode from sheer inertia, no matches needed. Others had to be carefully lit and quickly moved away from, as they shot flames high up into the air. It’s a memory of playing without rules, and of finding magic in fire and surprise.

Not all of my trip was fireworks and roses though. I met a kind woman who works for a money exchange company in Atlixco. Millions of dollars pass through her hands from Mexicans working hard in the US to help their families survive back home. Equally, Mexicans send money to their families in the Unites States when they hit hard times and need help. 

Her computer translates dollars to pesos and pesos to dollars. Sometimes it neglects to transition from one currency to another between a transaction. If her computer makes an error, or she mistakes fake money for real money, every dollar miscalculated comes out of her salary. $20 off? Deducted. $100 missing? Deducted. $300 miscalculated? Deducted. It doesn’t seem fair to make her pay for a computer error, but still, if it's only $20, it is not that much. Not until I find out what her salary is. This woman makes less than $12 a day to support her two children. On top of that, she works Saturdays and Sundays to keep this job, missing out on precious time with her small daughters. If only $20 go missing, that’s 10 days of making less than $10 a day. And what if it's more?

Things aren’t easy for people here in Mexico. People who aren’t working at banks make even less than $12 a day and often work 7 days a week. It is humbling to be reminded of the compromises people make each day simply to keep their children alive. It doesn’t leave much room to think about their creative and emotional development. Or to plan a trip to the ocean or another special place for a vacation. Many people here cannot afford cars and have never taken a vacation, in their life. 

As I celebrated the magic I experienced in Atlixco, I also lamented the unfairness that makes a beautiful city such a tragic one. By looking at this properly dressed and kind woman, I would not have guessed at the compromises she makes each day. Despite knowing about the economic strife here, it was easy to imagine that I was interacting with people who weren't impacted by it. It was a powerful reminder that I cannot know the circumstances of others simply by looking at them.

Today, I remain curious about what is required for those around me to meet their needs, both physically and spiritually. Just for today, I will place myself in one other person’s shoes before assigning them with a label. I will ask people for their stories and will listen with respect and a desire to understand. I will believe that the complexity and challenge I experience in my own internal landscape is not unique to me. I will have compassion for what others may encounter there, without my ever knowing of it.

Like these colorful flowers growing amongst cactus spines, I witness people blossoming and thriving despite challenge, unfairness and change. I carry with me the reminder that sometimes my greatest impact on this world comes from communicating kindness, seeking understanding and caring enough to truly listen. 

Birthday Post

Today is my birthday and I’m turning 27.

The last time I placed great significance into this day, I was turning 24. In the Chinese calendar, the 24^th year is second time that one cycles back to their zodiac animal (in my case, the dragon). I chose to infuse this birthday with meaning because 24 was a very significant year for me. My birthday coincided with my first training as a coach in the Pravada Sound Healing tradition. At that point in my life, I was beginning my yearlong journey out to Santa Fe, New Mexico, Oakland, California and later Brattleboro, Vermont. It was a year that fueled my creativity. I learned how to play the harp, do letterpress printing and watercolor paint!

Now, I am turning 27. I’m cycling back to a conviction I found somewhere along the desert highway in between New Mexico and California.

(me at 24 making the trek from Santa Fe to Oakland)

During that year, I discovered the aliveness that comes from exploring one's passions and listening to one's heart. I experienced a kind of peace that emerges from taking clear action and trusting in the process. Now, having finished graduate school and a first stint of 9-5 work in Boston, I once again find myself in moment of exploration and creativity - one that requires a high degree of trust - but this time, in Mexico!

Perhaps this will be the year of embracing my ability to contribute! Maybe it will be the year of expansive courage and openness, or of sharing of myself more frequently and in more settings. I hope this will be the year that I learn that happiness comes from within, and not from without, and that I can create it anywhere I go.

My wish for the year is that I may continue to share my enthusiasm and love of life with others and be a part of creating spaces where healing can happen. 

This evening, I experienced nature’s power in a new way. It rained with such intensity that the bridge ("el vado") crossing the stream to my home was completely submerged. I barely made it home! Safely on my land, the continuing raindrops make a noise on the clay tile roof that is soothing to me and that brings all the fragrances to life. The flowers (seen here in the daytime) fill the air tonight with a beautiful aroma. 

Part of me felt lonely, turning 27 without loved ones nearby. Still, something felt right about it. Thank you to my family and friends for reaching out and making my day special.

As I begin this new year of life, I am surrounded by the elements - the movement of water, the warmth of fire, the groundedness of the earth and the wafting smells of exotic flowers in the air.

I’m ready to see what this journey in Mexico has to teach me.

Unfiltered

This is my view every morning.

Atop the Pico de Orizaba sits the Glaciar de Jamapa -- Mexico’s largest glacier. It is a beautiful sight to behold in the mornings -- a special treat to which to awaken.  Most mornings, by 10:00 am, the Pico has begun to disappear, engulfed in a sea of clouds. I love living in the cloud forest! I enjoy the volcano until it fades, and then look forward to seeing it again the next day.

Yesterday, I noticed that my drinking water was getting low and so set out to get more.  Unlike in Mexico’s cities, I have access to clean water right here on my own land! The water travels to me from the Gulf of Mexico, via the clouds and the glacier on the Pico de Orizaba (also known by its Nauatl name Citlatltepetl).  The water in the springs and streams come to me pure and fresh. I drink it without adding chlorine. There is no processing plant or filtration system.

I brought my empty 5-gallon bottle through the forest to a place where a crystal clear spring bubbles to the surface, creating a small waterfall. We have set up a small tube to deliver the water to me in a more concentrated form.

To collect my life-sustaining beverage, I climbed down the bank into a pool of icy cold spring water. Having forgotten to wear my waterproof boots, I had to go in barefoot. Once situated, I placed the mouth of my bottle beneath the tumbling water. I use a single filtration system – a small sieve to keep bugs and leaves from flowing in.

Once filled, I pulled myself and my bucket up onto the bank, putting my shoes back on.

Mission accomplished, almost.  Ahead of me lay a 15-minute walk back through the forest to the house. The big bottle is extremely heavy – just over 40 pounds! I should have brought my wheelbarrow, but I didn’t.

I was reminded of a day in Boston when I bought too many groceries and tried to make it home with two paper bags. First one handle ripped, then the other. Initially, I carried one like a baby on my hip, then I tried doing that for both. By the time I got to my house, I was walking one bag a little ways, leaving it on the curb and coming back for the other one, only to start the process again for the next 20 steps. So it was with the water: I had to take many breaks and reorganize my posture several times. But at last, I made it home.

Now I have clean pure delicious water for another few weeks!

Within three kilometers, our beautiful stream/river (the Rio Citlalapa) will reach the town of Huatusco. There, the city’s raw sewage is dumped directly into the river. In an instant, the elixir of life is transformed from crystal clear and drinkable, to toxic and gross. Mexico’s current strategy for dealing with human waste is poisoning our fresh water supply.

It has become so accepted that ground-water is contaminated that it sometimes surprises me that I can drink the unfiltered water straight from the land. It’s a reminder of how accustomed I have become to our human habit of dirtying everything and then having to clean it again! We live in a world where having to purify water in order to drink it seems normal. How did we come to live this way?

Sometimes, I think my hectic lifestyle in the United States has created similar expectations for my internal state. Without my daily yoga class and meditation (systems of purification), how could I not be frantic and stressed? Through the relentless pace that I lived, I worked myself up and then had to insert a personal filtration system to calm myself down again. Living in a slower way sometimes appears ridiculous, even impossible. And yet, it’s a healing experience to live in a different way for a time.

For today, I will remember that being calm and present is my natural state. I will give myself permission to take time for myself, and savor the awesome miracle of drinking pure spring water, straight from the heart of Mother Earth.

Flor de Izote

This probably won’t turn into a food blog but, with so much time spent just feeding myself, expect to hear about my culinary habits on occasion!  Today I had an extraordinary opportunity to eat a flower that only blooms once a year.

The Flor de Izote grows high up in a tree, much like bananas. Imagine a single enormous bunch of grapes, with each grape covered in delicate white petals, and you’ve got the Flor de Izote. The center of the bunch is bitter, but the petals are beautiful, fleshy and edible.

It takes years of maturing for the Flor de Izote to bear fruit, and even when it does, its flowers only come once per year. At this time, a great clump of giant “snow drop” looking flowers burst forth. 

Yesterday, I harvested the Flor de Izote on my property (with help). The biggest surprise to me was how much it weighed. I was just barely able to stay standing for this photo while carrying the 30 plus pounds of flowers into the house!

To prepare it, I plucked each flower off the bunch individually and pulled the petals off of the pistil. 

When I had filled up a whole pot, I poured in boiling water and let it cook down. 

The next morning, I prepared it, as instructed, with onions, tomatoes, garlic and scrambled eggs. 

Honestly, it tasted like … nothing, but in a good way. Flor de Izote is high in Vitamin C and calcium. It was a unique and healthy meal, even if it was subtle.

During my first week here, the land shared with me something so special that it can only be harvested and eaten once in a year! It seems so easy to find things for which to be grateful, even though I have many reasons for gratitude everywhere I am. Nature reminds me of the uniqueness of every living thing. Every flower blossoms in its season. The fruits and plants have their own distinct timing.

Pulling the petals from the pistils, I thought about how futile it would be to rush the Flor de Isote to flower. It blossoms in its own time, once per year, with or without my anticipation, with or without my anxiety or encouragement. When hearing about a friend’s problems, how often have I given my opinion and not had the patience to let my friend come to a similar insight in her own time? Even with myself, how often have I been anxious to see changes over night, instead of in real time – such as starting a job and being frustrated that I’m not the seasoned veteran I want to be by week three?

I can control myself, through the books I read, the time I spend meditating and the people with whom I surround myself; and even then, progress takes time and patience. The most important people in my life are like this Flor de Izote. They are evolving and flowering in their own time. Am I not better served to appreciate a growing bunch while on the vine, than to hurt my heart waiting for it to flower months in advance?

Today, I will practice expectantly awaiting that special occasion when, once a year, I will be able to enjoy the Flor de Izote’s delicate petals in my hands.