A mixed bag of beans

The evening of my sickness a new comer came to the farm. At first he seemed edgy and a nervous talker, but he was new and I was sick and didn’t think anything of it. As the evening progressed is became apparent that the new guy was truly a bit off. He talked to himself at the dinner table and when prompted with a question he didn’t quite answer with any relativity to the topic. He ended up bunking next to me and talking in his sleep all night. Apparently we had a sleep conversation… He was no where to be found she. It came down to working in the morning and once he did show up he could comprehend the idea of raking leaves or shoveling dirt from one spot to the other. He quickly became the talk of our small community. I was still feeling under the watcher and not really attached to the drama. People where talking because they where uncomfortable with his energy, none of where on his level, none of us could relate. It really hit me something’s up when I watched him “barrow” Crystals towel to mask his screening. I was very distract at this and also very torn to tell someone about it. One side of me was saying everyone is different and everyone handles there shit differently and the other side was yelling danger. I calmly explained what had happened to someone who could translate more Leary to Raquel in Spanish what was going on. I felt like a five year old tail tale because I hadn’t asked him if he was alright or needed to talk first, I just assumed the worst and went behind his back(or so it seemed that way in my mind). However, later I the day when I whit eased him muffling another scream I asked him if he was alright, he sternly replied he was fine…poor fellow had just about discomforted everybody at the farm in a matter of hours because he was dealing with some serious internal conflict. I was still turned off by the energy and attitudes some people where using when talking about him. Never been a big fan of gossip and don’t see that changing soon. I was mulling these thoughts over in my head while sorting beans. An analogy hit me that we are all different beans. We all have different colors, shapes, textures, names and qualities, but even the rotten, halved and wrinkled beans have a purpose. The beans I picked out of the pile and dreamed unworthy for the humans to eat I put in the pile that would be sent to the pigs or to the compost, either way, human, pig, compost, those beans would eventually be returning back to the earth. All people in thins world serve some purpose and all people return to the earth like the beans. I found a new appreciation for the mental new kid and for the quality of food that I eat with this analogy. It felt good to share t’s thought with Kelsea and to later meditate on Meta, compassion, after the new kid had left the farm. Javier and Raquel made sure he was off on the first and only buss the leave Mastatal at 5 am.