Because only 2% of our society works the land, we’ve become disconnected from the Farmer Philosophy.
Simply stated, “Mother Nature hates a vacuum. Plant good seeds — or, weeds will grow.”
So… for 50 plus years, I’ve been preparing, planting, tending, nurturing — and, dealing with the result. The bins were stretched to the limit and I was wondering, “Why am I so tired?”
Was I tired of the goodness? Was it, simply, too much of a good thing? Was there, even, any purpose in all this business and busyness?
The answer was discovered in violence. It came in the form of a real threshing — to beat, to flail, to separate, to thrash, to examine, and to toss.
You see, there’s a maxim from the Paradoxical Commandments, “If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies. Succeed anyway.”
Long ago, I discovered the 50/50 Rule — Half of the world will love us and the other half not so much.
I’ve always been amused by the true enemies. What they meant for harm has always resulted in more goodness. The weapons they formed against me silenced them. The enemies gave their best to condemn and the Master offered honor.
As an eternal optimist, with my rose-colored glasses, I’ve — now — come to realize the problem (opportunity in disguise) of my tiredness was because of my naivety and those false friends.
They knew — for a fact — they were the beneficiaries of Education and Experience freely offered. In other words, they wanted what I had. And — they expected me to listen to their whining, endure their disrespect, and do for them what they were unwilling to do for themselves.
In the simplest of farming terms, they were chaff, light-weights, shriveled, and cracked — the winnowed waste only fit for chicken feed.
Yet, for some crazy reason, I couldn’t bring myself to blow them away. What I couldn’t do was done by the One who can.
To winnow means to force air upon the good and bad — to separate. Again, we forget the process required to put quality grain in the bin. The modern combine harvesters are beautiful monsters eating their way through ripe fields of plenty. Yet, inside their bellies, the process of separating the wheat from the chaff is a violent operation of beating, flailing, shaking, thrashing — with air used as a force to blow away the final remnants of impurity.
After all of that violence, what remains is the kernel of opportunity — to be used in baking, or in planting the next crop.
So… if you feel beaten, flailed, shaken, and blown upon by the winds of fate, take cheer — there’s A Time for Everything.
A time to plant and a time to harvest.
If you have planted and enjoy a crop meriting attention, then, know a harvest is required.
As I did, you’ll discover quality at the core of your character and you’ll discover who your true Friends, really, are!