Whole Being: Life Alchemy
Being, Belonging, Becoming
What to do on Inauguration Day: Add Manure to the Compost Pile
I imbue this place with my essence, every stone and every drop. My visit will do wonders for the flowers." Aly propped her chin on her hand. "So does manure," she observed. -Tamora Pierce
Ah, another Inauguration Day. The flags, the promises, the pontifications—it’s all there, oozing from the screen like molasses poured over a landfill. But let’s not kid ourselves. The stench of recent years lingers, thick and acrid, and while the pageantry pretends otherwise, we all know: manure is still bullshit. No rhetorical perfume can mask it.
But here’s the thing about manure—it’s got a purpose. Out in the garden, far from the bright lights and broadcast spectacle, manure is the good stuff. It’s the engine of transformation. So, while less than half the country chews over another round of canned applause and carefully scripted optimism, I grab my pitchfork and head to the compost pile. It’s where the real work happens.
Let’s not sugarcoat it: manure stinks. It’s hot, gross, and impossible to ignore. And let’s be honest—some messes, like certain political figures and their followings, don’t seem to improve with time. But here’s the alchemical twist: the earth doesn’t play favorites. It takes the rot, the waste, the decay, and turns it into life. This isn’t optimism; it’s physics. Thermodynamics with a touch of magic.
Rumors and Manure both get spread around but only one is beneficial - ~Ed Furgol
Out by the compost pile, the noise of the news fades. The earth doesn’t care about cable pundits or Twitter tirades. It knows its business. Every turn of the pile is a reminder of the long game—how everything, eventually, gets broken down and transformed. Trump? MAGA? They’ll go back to the earth like everything else. The ego, the bluster, the misplaced flags—all of it. It’s not hopeful; it’s inevitable.
And right now, we need a little witchcraft —a little hoodoo, a little Voodoo, a bit of conjuring. Compost is conjure. It’s a cauldron where decay becomes possibility. The fungi, bacteria, and beetles are the true silent majority, doing their work without ceremony. They don’t care about speeches or scandals. They just transform. They remind us that while the circus rages on, the deeper processes of life—the ones that actually matter—continue undisturbed.
There’s a symbolic resonance here, an earthy kind of poetry. Adding manure to the compost isn’t just practical; it’s symbolic. It’s saying, “Here’s the mess. Let’s turn it into something useful.” Because while the earth doesn’t rush, it doesn’t forget either. The worst of humanity gets repurposed, recycled, and ultimately rendered insignificant. That’s the real message of Inauguration Day—not the words spoken at the podium but the unyielding truth of the soil beneath our feet.
So let them wave their flags and spew their platitudes. I’ll be here with my shovel, turning the pile, conjuring magic from the muck. The earth is bigger, older, and more patient than any headline. It knows that even the foulest manure can become fertilizer for something beautiful.
And that’s the alchemy of becoming.
If you're standing in the manure pile, it's somebody's job to mention the stink. -Barbara Kingsolver
The Reverend Dr. Kathleen Rose holds a Doctorate in Clinical Pastoral Psychotherapy and a Master of Divinity. Her areas of focus are thanatology and Process Philosophy. Kathleen is an ordained interfaith minister. She currently works as a board certified healthcare chaplain, and as an Eco Chaplain. Kathleen is also student of Japanese Tea Ceremony through the international Chado Urasenke Tankokai associations of the Urasenke School in Kyoto, Japan. Kathleen Reeves is a published poet, and writer. She is a philosopher and a ponderer
What an excellent post! Thank you for this! I find this metaphor to be useful to me, as I try to navigate this experience.