Connie arrived last Wednesday from Los Angeles. She described herself as a “down-to-Earth-Asian” who wanted to experience farm life. She got farming at its worst. The sun baked the farm with temperatures over 100 degrees. Strong winds dried out everything.

Even seasoned farmers wilt in such weather. We picked early; we watered late; we weeded. We put her in charge of feeding and watering the chickens—three times a day--in such heat. She did not water midday. Four chickens died. Connie, a Buddhist vegetarian, faced those chickens reluctantly.  

Sunday night, she joined us for our full moon celebration. The program was on hearing: one of the twelve senses Rudolph Steiner had discussed.  At the last minute, I had to lead the program.   

“Connie,” I asked, “What would the Buddhists say about hearing?”

“Buddhists would say that we pay too much attention to the outside and that we need to listen to our inner voice,” she responded.  

I gave her a ride early yesterday morning so she could catch the Greyhound bus to her next adventure. After my nap, I planned to catch up on some of my household chores. I woke in a fog. I looked at the clock: no numbers showed. I flipped the switch over the sink; no light came on. The power was out. I had planned to wash clothes, iron. vacuum, listen to the news, call friends on the phone and read my mail. I read my mail, musing about how dependent I had become on electricity.  

In church on Sunday, my friend, Charlie, asked me how I was doing with the heat and the drought. I put on a brave face: we had hand-watered critical crops--the tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers and eggplant--and misted the other crops just at dusk.

Charlie seemed amazed. “A farmer without a generator!” he scoffed at me.

He has a generator, a pump and a large water tank. He drives his tractor, tank in tow, to the pond, hooks up his gasoline-powered generator to the pump, fills the tank and then waters his garden.  

Maybe I should buy a generator, a pump and a tank, but as the weather gets more chaotic and extreme, I think we may have to face a time when the lights go out and our machines cannot do the job. We will face the fury of nature and our own inadequacy.

At that moment, I wonder if Connie’s words will be a gift to me, “Listen to the inner voice…”