On Dead Cows and Miracles.

April 3, 2013April 4, 2013 / Erin Kirk / 3 Comments

Coeur de boeuf tomatoes (Photo credit: Franka-in-London)

This afternoon, Sam and I butchered a 500-lb heifer in the woods behind our house. Her insides smelled like milk, which makes less sense than you might think, since we raise beef cattle.

All that may sound like metaphor, coming from the girl on the right in the wedding dress, but it’s not. I’m a Texas ranch wife and things like this happen. The heifer broke her leg. Sam called me at a friend’s house and said, “hurry home, I need help butchering this calf. Bring ice.”

This post has little meaningful purpose other than to explain the kinds of things I get up to when I’m not sitting at my desk thinking about Jesus. Some of my followers from Kirk Ranch Organics miss crispy, down-home ranch stories like this, this and this, so…

This is him.

Sure enough, when I got home, Sam was waiting with his .38, a rope, sharp knives and four coolers. He’s kind of a bad-ass in this department, a son of the deep American South with years of deer and elk hunting under his belt; a fact that reminds me, if things go south on this planet, like the doomsday preppers predict, I will be hot on his heels.

I’ve been on plenty of hunting trips, but like most people, I’m usually on the skillet end of the animal, not the slaughtering end. So today was my day.

“Hold her right here,” Sam said. So with both hands, I grabbed the bones of her brisket that he’d just split open. She was well and truly gone, but still warm under my gloves. Then I watched her lungs spill out of her body and I touched her heart – coeur de boeuf tomatoes mean something to me now. Once I got over my revulsion, I got curious about her stomachs, and her veins and the green grass still inching through her intestines.

Maybe this sounds revolting, but if you appreciate a medium rare filet mignon, like I do – well, this is where they come from. Big fatty, steers are better for sure, but we’ll make do. Thanks little heifer #992.

More importantly, when you consider the profound stillness of a rapidly cooling heart in your hands, this life, here, right now, seems much less a smash-up accident, and more the exceptional miracle it is.

“There are two ways to live,” Albert Einstein said. “As if nothing is a miracle, or everything is.”

Six Steps for Creative Ignition

April 2, 2013April 2, 2013 / Erin Kirk / Leave a comment

The clock is ticking my friends. It’s long past time to do your work. You were put here with a purpose and if you don’t do it, it doesn’t get done. So what is it only you can do?

It may be dormant, but it’s in there. Let’s get busy.

1. Go silent. Then ask. Stop right now. Close the door. Get quiet for 15 minutes and answer these:

What makes my heart beat fast?
What could I do forever even if I didn’t get paid?
“God, what do I love?”

Forget the income potential, just write your answers. They are very likely what God needs you to do here, and if you have the courage to pursue them, the results may surprise you. As Madeleine L’Engle said in Walking on Water, “Listen to the silence. Stay open to the voice of the Spirit. Slow me down Lord.”

2. Own it. Begin treating that gift with a little respect. I wonder if Seth Casteel ever said, “Well this is kinda silly, but I like to take underwater photographs of dogs chasing a tennis ball.” He probably doesn’t think it’s silly now. His goofy dogs landed on the NYT Bestseller list. Find and hang out with people like Seth, let their creativity and enthusiasm encourage you to find your own.

3. Go Outside. Engage your world. People are doing interesting and lively things all over the world, go find them. Yes, it is easier to stay home and watch Duck Dynasty but does it make you more creative and interesting? Probably not, yoga classes and book readings and world travel require effort but the payoff is engaging other humans full of interesting stories. Despite some evidence to the contrary, live humans still deliver better than Facebook and Twitter.

4. Write three small, 12-month goals related to your gift, and stick them on the fridge. So even while fixing dinner, your mind can mull them, prompting tiny adjustments toward their fulfillment. Successful people with big, vibrant lives are often listmakers and recommend the practice. Use Quozio or Recite to make pretty lists and then post them at home and on Pinterest. (Just don’t fall down the rabbit hole and forget to do your work.)

5. Don’t just turn off the tv, turn on music you never listen to and shut the door. Tell your family you are going to paint, write, or digitize aboriginal music for an hour. As the nutty and delightful McNair Wilson says, get your family on board making a schedule that gives you an hour a day to yourself. Even if they have to do their own laundry, teach them to do it, it’s good for them. If you don’t have an hour, get up a half hour earlier and own it.

6. Apply your gift to a specific project then tell people about it. Build an airplane, write a book, paint murals and tell people, so when they ask about it, you will feel like a chump if you aren’t doing step five. Share your art as an accountability measure.