Fenced In

On a recent vacation with my children, I had the opportunity to observe the landscape as I drove. Between the beautiful sky, trees in the midst of colorful transition and the sprawling fields that seemed to never end, there was an oft repeated theme. What, you may ask? Intermittently dispersed over the landscape were little enclaves of fenced cattle.
The cattle were of various colors and sizes; with males and females adequately represented. Some were even longhorns, frequently associated with the Texas longhorns. Some of the cattle were huge, easily weighing several hundred pounds. What was striking to me was not the sheer girth of these animals, nor the sheer numbers of cattle that could be seen in what appeared to be a rather small pasture. What was striking is regardless of the aforementioned factors, these animals were all held behind minimal fencing! Some of the fences were made from chain link; but more than not, the fencing was wooden stakes with some form of linkage running between. Rarely did I see barb wired fencing (like the kind that keeps criminals at bay). Some of the fences that I saw had wooden posts that were leaning, and fencing, regardless of the material, that was dipping, as it had not been pulled taut across the posts. Mind you, despite the materials, none of the fencing was such that it blocked the view from any passerby of neither the animals nor the fields they grazed in. The fences seemed see through.

I began to think about this premise as I drove across the countryside. These animals were massive. Had either one of them decided that the grass was truly greener on the other side of the fence, all it would have taken was to lean against the fencing and they would have that desired access. They would be free to eat, and graze in that greener pasture. Moreover, if there was such a thing as collective thought amongst these beasts of burden, a small number of them could trample the very fencing that was holding them in. The most striking visual was of a cow who had peeked it’s head through the fencing, and was actually nibbling grass from outside the enclosure! You could tell that this was no easy feet. There was some effort and even strain involved in securing the object that the animal sought.

This rather mundane visual context proved striking and profound to me as I drove. I began to wonder and think about the objects or things or the self that had me fenced in. What was keeping me from attaining the object of my desire that seemed to be right outside of my grasp? Was I like the animal who accepted their fate, by a fence that was leaning, that would take minimal effort to trample? Did I even know that I was fenced in? And was I so comfortable in my current condition that the thought of leaning on the weakened fence never crossed my mind, or the collective minds of those around me? Or was I more like the animal that was reaching through the fence, striving to reach the object of my desire? Yes, there was some struggle and strain involved, and it took great effort to reach, but the reward was perceived to be great enough to justify the effort?

And what if the fence that the animal was reaching through to reach the greener grass was barb wired or even electrical. Would I still be the one reaching through the fence at this level of risk? Contemplation of this fencing in has been an important and clarifying process for me. Have you considered what has you fenced in?