I slaughtered a chicken today. Cut off its head and plucked it clean. Eviscerated it. Bagged it. Tagged it and will probably be involved in the process of prepping, cooking and eventually consuming said bird. 

I've never killed anything so ceremoniously and deliberately before. It felt right. Not in a violent or morbid way. In a visceral way. I eat chicken. I've watched documentaries and read articles about where my food comes from but this experience trumps all of that. I feel connected to this process. I feel like I should either stop eating meat or start killing what I'm gonna eat more often. I think of all the super processed meat that gets shoved through car windows and into human bellies with total ignorance of how the animal lived, how it was raised, how it died or how it made it into that convenient bite sized shape. I fed this chicken. Gave it water. Helped to wrangle it up. And placed it in the kill cone. When I wrapped the palm of my hand around its warm face and pulled the neck taught the chicken went calm and I said a kind of silent prayer. Then I slid the sharpened blade edge through feather and skin where it was met with some slight vertabraic resistance before running clean through to the other side and leaving my balled fist bloodied and holding one severed chicken head.

Hand bloodied and chicken twitching I felt something shift. It was powerful. It felt old world. It felt ancient. I'm not a fan of killing. It's not something I take joy in. But I do revel in taking part in something that I feel is my birth right. I do enjoy learning how to survive if this whole thing collapses and I need to feed myself. I also can't say enough about the importance of feeling connected to the food I eat. I'm so grateful for this experience.


both the singularity and the vacuum. all and nothing at all at the same time. as is life. as is love