The Debt of the Earth

The soil does not give itself up easily. It must be broken, turned over, forced to reveal what lies beneath the surface. We call this work, but it is really a conversation with hunger. There is a rhythm to the turning of the earth that matches the beating of a heart. When the crust is opened, the air changes. Something is disturbed, and in that disturbance, life gathers. It is a frantic, white-winged gathering. They are not there for the labor; they are there for the leftovers. It is a cycle of necessity that ignores the one who holds the plow. We imagine we are the masters of the field, yet we are merely the ones who provide the feast. Does the earth remember the weight of the machine, or only the silence that follows when the birds have finally flown away?

Jim Perceval has captured this cycle in his image titled Preparing the Rice Paddy. He shows us the intersection of industry and instinct. How do you find your own place within such a restless movement?