Writing in Iowa

Writing — really engrossing writing — springs from a rich and cluttered life, fully lived. It is the bounty of experience that loads the canon of inspiration with sufficient shot to do memorable damage. But, can one glean adequate life experience from abiding among the ordered fields of Iowa? 

Many an old Iowa farmer may be found breathing contentedly from the rocker on his back porch as he ponders the meaning of life, the vicissitudes of our mortal coil, the might of Jove and the recalcitrant whims of His weather. On the other hand, many an old Iowa farmer has been found moldering in the rocker on his back porch as the crows make sport with his remains.

But, back to the point. A connoisseur will cleanse his pallet before undertaking to sample a new wine. He will savor it, let it rest in the bounty of his experience, form an interpretation, and commit his judgment to the enlightenment of others. One could not expect an impoverished lush to undertake such an intimate exposition. Likewise, critically acclaimed writers draw from the deep waters of their autobiographical wells. A dry well does not refresh. In Iowa, a shallow well, supplied by a groundwater aquifer, is likely to poison the family as they consume phosphates, organohalides, and fecal coliforms from the neighbor’s hog operation.

But, back to the point.

Story: Being True to the Best of What You Are

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Being True to the Best of What You Are

from the book: Life Will Get You in the End:
Short stories by David Satterlee

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Life Will Get You in the End:
Short Stories by David Satterlee

You've probably heard one of several versions of the fable about an eagle that believes it's a chicken. Here is a new take on the subject from an Integrally-informed psycho-social perspective. We all should be so lucky.

Being True to the Best of What You Are

A story like this was told by Patty Grant Long on August 25, 2005 during a workshop–program on “Healing the Soul Wound” (multi-generational trauma). Ms. Long is a therapist (alcohol and drug abuse counselor) with Analenisgi, in Cherokee, North Carolina. It is adapted from memory. There are a variety of versions of this story in circulation. Here is another one.

A farmer was out walking with a guest, who was a hunter. A beautiful eagle soared gracefully above them, just keeping an eye on things below. Suddenly, without giving any word, the hunter raised his gun, sighted on the bird and shot it dead. It flapped to the ground and landed with a sad “whump.” The hunter walked over to the bird and nudged it with his boot. Yep, it was very dead. The farmer didn’t say anything. He didn’t approve but the hunter was his guest and killing animals is what hunters do. 

Knowing that the eagle had its nest in a nearby tree, the farmer climbed up, swaying in breeze, reached into the nest and put the two small eagles in the large pockets of his baggy pants. Protecting living things and helping them to grow is what farmers do. When they got back to the house, the farmer put the eagles with his chickens. They learned to eat bugs and seeds and they grew up strutting around the yard just like their chicken brothers.

But, one of the young eagles was not happy. “I’m different,” she told her brother, “I just don’t feel like I belong on the ground walking around pecking at bugs and seeds.” Her brother was quite content, however, and said, “Don’t make trouble. The farmer is good to us chickens. He throws us enough corn that we don’t starve and we get to hang out all day with our friends.” The first eagle wasn’t convinced. She pointed out,