Factory farms have nearly eliminated love in the cycle of life for feed animals. They treat our food sources as no more than that—to the detriment of taste, nutrition, and good health imparted by the eventual meal—aside from moral considerations regarding other sentient beings. Meanwhile, serious gardeners can discuss the joy they share as they nurture their plants. A bad hail can be heart-rending since the grower and the grown seem to share an unseen energy we don’t discuss for fear of sounding intellectually soft. The fact that plants that hear how much they’re loved prosper more enthusiastically than those neglected beyond the basics of soil and water is a subject often avoided.
Perhaps love is the energy that makes the difference, although we’re less self-conscious when we talk about energy. Recently, I’ve been fortunate to enjoy my connections with people who express care for me—even if the caring comes from far away. And I share energy in return. I delight in writing, but I’ve produced no piece that gave me as much joy as when readers tell me they derive some small insight from my words and apply that energy to their lives. I prized my opportunities to truly teach, but when former students told me their lives were vastly improved based on experiences we shared in school by my design, I became the fabled cup with happiness cascading over the edges. And when my spirits dip so low that I wonder why I’m still on this earth if I’m going to gradually disappear beneath my gray hair, the energy I receive from others reminds me that there’s more to life than a single dark day. Like the sole puma who saved an environment by chasing the grazers from their favorite feeding area which left the grasses to regenerate, I might be adding a tiny something I don’t or can’t recognize.
Each of us has chances to add value to the lives of others—as well as our own. Doing it requires choice. Thanks for being with me, by the way. You make my blog matter.
