Positive Psychology, Congress & Farming

Positive Psychology now shows us that it's more productive and life-enhancing to focus on our strengths rather than our problems. We can thrive rather than dive into depressive depths dwelling on the mistakes of the past.

Can Congress learn from the Positive Psychologists?
The new bills - HR 2749 etc. ect all dwell in the depressing past.

They are attempts are trying to fix problems in our food system with heavy fines and imprisonment rather than focus on creating a new future from our strengths.

The big stick approach will not work and cannot work, because it keeps us focusing on what does not work. You cannot solve a problem at the level at which the problem was created. We need to dwell on carrots...

So, if HR 2749 and other legislation can't improve our food, let's put to use our other powers...

Let's use the power of Proclamations.
"Small family farms have demonstrated their ability to provide safe & quality food for their neighbors and local communities. All small farms are here and now free to conduct direct to consumer sales to their local communities. All prior regulations & legislations restricting them are now null and void."

Let's use the power of Resolutions.
"We the people, being of sound mind and tattered bodies, resolve to create a more perfect food!
A great nation is fueled by GREAT food!

We resolve to......encourage the best and brightest among us to find remedies to our food ills.
We resolve to .....create the department of "Best and Brightest", and offer rewards (not patents), for those who find new solutions that offer collateral benefits to the environment, economy and communities.
We resolve to..... create a new order of the Green Cross - for those that save lives in peaceful times for their courage to think differently.

Let's tap into our nation's greatness, our diversity, our genius!

The One-Sized Fits None - HR 875

The Farm-to-Consumer Legal Defense Fund lawyers have reviewed the HR 875 bill extensively, and have created this analysis. Pete Kennedy, Esq., the author, is not an alarmist, but an advocate for the small and medium sustainable farmers who want to sell their products directly to the consumer, and have to navigate already-over-regulated waters to get food on our plates.

One of the problems I see with this bill is they are lumping in the small mom and pop farmers providing food to their neighbors and church, with the big commercial outfits.

The other big problem is putting the regs in the hands of the Feds, is basically putting them in the hands of the big agribusiness lobbies - the same folks that bring us great gourmet foods like Crisco, Rancid Vegetable Oils (replacing stable traditional fats), High Fructose Corn Syrup, Grain-Hormone-Antibiotic Fed Dairy, yummy GMOs and last but not least Cloned Beef and Pork!

HR 875 comes at a time when the trend towards direct-to-consumer sales has started to boom and resurrect small farm-based rural economies. Instead of buying from grocery stores the consumers are now putting their dollars directly in the pocket of the farmer. This creates a VERY stable farm economy and, and a transparent, SAFE food system.

This new "get-to-know-your-farmers" distribution is working, and working very well... and now, here comes HR 875, strapping the small farmer with the VERY same rules as giant agribusinesses that control most of the food in the supermarkets.

There are thousands of families that order their food weekly via the Internet, and farmers deliver directly to their neighborhoods. The rapidly growing market for raw milk is part of the rocket fuel. Many of us buy because it’s fresher, better, tastier. Many of us buy because we like knowing where our food comes from. Even more of us do it to support our small farmers and their families.

Look how the direct to consumer sales affect dairy alone –

The commercial dairy farmers with 300 cows that sell their milk to the bulk milk buyers for pasteurization, are LOSING money on each gallon of milk they sell. These farmers produce milk for about $2/gallon and can only sell it for $1/gallon this year. See the Farm Aid article for more about this. Yet, they continue to have to feed their animals, and every day they dig deeper into debt. The tourniquet they apply to stem the outflow of farm dollars is the "culling" (killing off) of their herds. Many hundreds of thousands of commercial dairy cows are now ground beef.

On the direct-sales side, the farmer with 30 cows receives the whole and premium price for their raw milk (intentionally produced with the idea of raw consumption) for $5 - $13/gallon. This is organic raw milk from humanely cared for and sustainably raised cows on PASTURE. You can imagine the difference this profit makes in the farmer’s life and community. You can also imagine the difference this food makes in our lives! We also have the pleasure of knowing our farmers and their practices. We eat the SAME food they feed their families. There’s no better FOOD SAFETY act that that!

All that being said, they want to regulate these two VERY different farmers the same.

It’s like...
Lumping local micro-breweries in with Bud, Miller and Michelob -
Mom and Pop restaurants with McDonald's -
Little League with the Major League!

They don’t scale the regulations.

The small farmers are hurdled even with the CURRENT regs –

The current regs require small farmers to install $30,000 stainless steel kitchens before they even make $1 from the sale of a pickle! This kills the entrepreneurial spirit!

The current regs in Maryland and Virginia (and many other states) won’t let farmers sell raw milk.

The current regs won’t allow many small farmers to slaughter animals on the farm, requiring the animals to be shipped for MANY hours, in ALL WEATHER, without WATER on the highways to specially USDA inspected slaughterhouses.

The non-scalable regulations have all but closed the small slaughter houses that used to be part of every farming community. Any farmer that won't put their animals through this trauma isn’t allowed to sell their meat to you or to a restaurant or store. And, yet, you see the footage of what goes on in these Federally Inspected Slaughterhouses. Inhumane…but regulated!

“You can’t regulate integrity” – Joel Salatin

The sad thing, is that a million dollar fine to a large food company is just figured in as the cost of doing business.

The same fine would wipe out a small farm. Remember, these farms are ALSO their homes. None of the big agribusiness guys live where the food is made…just go near a CAFO (confined animal facility op)and you’ll smell the reason why.

Where is the bill to support, protect and encourage artisan food producers? Where is the bill to encourage more small farms to get into the mix, and produce transparently raised food for our families?

Million dollar fines and weekly inspections from investigators would stop me cold.

And, there’s more to the bill than that…

I LOVELMO

The vet confirmed my suspicion that Elmo was not doing well, and we made an appointment for her to help speed his passage. I started wondering what Elmo would love to do on his last days on earth. The answer was easy, go to the garden.

On a walk, Elmo was always on auto-pilot. Go to the garden! He loved sitting in the pathway between gardens, soaking up the sunshine, keeping the rabbits at bay, and generally keeping an eye on things, except of course when he gave in to his drowsy sun-drenched feeling and napped. I'd leash him, with a really long blue tether so that he could move around. His big bowl of water nearby, he'd follow the shade around on hot days.

So , Elmo, and I woke before the sunrise, and after a quick stop for a cup of decaf to warm my hands, we nestled into the garden. He laid on a special mat to keep him off the cold ground, and I cocooned him in a blanket.

I had decided that on Elmo's last day, that he should not be tethered, instead enjoying his freedom, so the blue leash lay untouched.

I worked furiously in the garden that day, shoveling and weeding my heart out. Looking over to see him cozy, bending into my work, to bring order to at least one area of my life, as I saw my time with Elmo careening to an end.

It was only 10:00 a.m. and I wondered how I would last the day. I had mixed in so many of my salty tears into the soil, that I worried if anything would grow next year. So, it was Elmo and me, together all day in this sweet, salty sadness. I'd stop for a while, and just sit next to him, to imprint in my mind, the color, softness of his fur. I'd bury my nose in his ruff, just to gather more his puppy dog smell.

Elmo was no puppy, rather 12 years old, and feeling his age, but as I sat there, Elmo got up, and tottered slowly, stiff step by stiff step to the end of the lane, and then turned the corner and plopped. I supposed he'd plopped, because I didn't see his ears over the top of the neighboring plots' foliage. Sure enough, when I snuck to the end of the lane to see him, his head was up and he was smiling. After a while, I scooped him up and return him to his mat and blanket cocoon. Later in the day, he repeated this small journey, and just left me wondering how he was able to do it, since the evening before he couldn't take a step.

I thought about how sad and lonely the garden would be next year, without Elmo's quiet company. So, I planted the first bed with garlic, spelling out I LOVELMO. Love and Elmo running together seemed a fitting expression for the way I was feeling.

So, the first garden bed, come spring will be my reminder of that sweet puppy love. The sun was about to set, and so we headed home from the garden together, for the last time.

When you know death is imminent, every moment, every turn is sweet, sweet, sweet. The feeling is so softly sad, sometimes giving over to a riot of tears and uncontrollable sobbing, but mostly soft, sweet and sad.

My son Sean and I went to dinner, ordered prime rib, to bring home to Elmo, and when we returned I had my first taste of the days ahead. There was no puppy to greet me at the front door. Elmo had left his post, for the first time, and was confused and lying in the bedroom.

I made him comfortable on the bed, and tucked myself in beside him with my arms around him, and holding his paw. I remembered my mother holding my father's hand while he slept the night before he died. This was in my mind.

When we woke in the morning, Elmo had several back-to-back strokes, where everything would stop and he'd stare with his mouth hanging open, then return to sleepy puppy. I knew that the time was coming and was concerned that he was suffering.

So, my eldest son, Amir, came over and after some last goodbyes from others who loved and would miss him dearly, we took him to the vet's office for the last time.

Now that my dear companion is gone, the house doesn't feel like my house anymore. Walking in the door, I knew that my time there was limited. I'd have to find another place to live, and I'd have to make sure I didn't work so much.

Elmo had done his best to get me away from the desk everyday at home, and often I'd put him off, with a "we'll go out in a couple of minutes" to see another hour or two slip away until his next attempt. I don't like that I did that now, and the me on the other side of his death, would stop typing, grab the leash and a coat and go walking - to the garden of course.

The sharpness of my sadness is fading a bit, and I got a notion that Elmo had been trying to tell me something on his last day at the garden.

Here's his messages:

1. Take a break

2. Sit down and enjoy the stars

3. Love someone with all your heart.

4. Take the long route.

5. Don't be in a hurry to go home.

6. Go to the garden, go to the garden, go to the garden.

What a master of simple happiness he was, and he kept trying to nudge and nuzzle me into more relaxation and timelessness, but I was pretty stubbornly bent on working, working and more working.

So, I'm listening to his messages now, and found yet one more parting message in his totter and plop at the end of the lane.

Elmo is gone from my sight, but he's still with me, just around the corner - out of sight.

What if in this wonderful world, our loved ones, were just around the corner, out of sight...but with us still? This thought gives me great peace and happiness. I now imagine him walking by my side and licking my face. When I'm happy I can feel his presence so easily. Perhaps he is still, just round the corner. Light and life bending in a parallel life, so close, but so far.

I think, Elmo is teaching me about how to pierce the veil of death, and feel the love without the benefit of being able to touch and see him. He was, and is some kind of dog.

I LOVELMO.

January 20, 1995 - November 3, 2008

Yogi Bear - Yogi Berra

Yogi Bear & Yogi Berra in a Borrowed Genius Session

What do these two yoga masters have to teach me?

First....keep life simple.
Second....there is no second (cause I'm keeping it simple)

"Hey, Boo Boo! Let's get us some pic-a-nic baskets!"
Yogi Bear

Yogi Bear knew what he wanted and went and got it. He didn't read Freud and wonder about the maternal influcence on his inkling for things in red and white plaid. He didn't worry about how the picnic basket owner would feel, or if the contents were organic, local and fresh. You get where I'm going. He didn't ponder, he just pounced.

Now, when Yogi Berra came to me in a borrowed genius session on "The Genius Code" by Wen Wenger, I did as the Wen instructed and enter Yogi Berra's body to look out of his eyes, to learn from his perspective. He was very confident and rather matter of fact about life, and said -

"If you like it, do it. If you don't like it, don't do it."
Cathy Raymond as Yogi Berra

It seems very similar to my mentor Yogi Bear and a bit more fun than the Nike slogan, which just has me doing, doing, doing more of it, without any direction about what "it" is.

Have spiritual teachings taught me to be ok with things that aren't really ok with me? Transformation in spiritual circles in linked to ideas like "Love Thy Enemy".

What would Yogi Berra say? If you don't like it don't do it. Simple.

What would Yogi Bear say? Probably something about a picnic basket.

Lately, I feel like I've been dropped in the middle of Yellow Stone Park without the direction of my heart's compass. My heart's stirrings are evaluated, strategized and STRANGLED by my mind! I want my heart's equivalent of a picnic basket!

My heart gives me messages all the time, in simple language BIG YES! or NO! If it's not a BIG YES, then it's NO.

I get it.

I'm smarter than the average bear!