Big news from the coop: our chicken Rockstar laid her first egg this week. She’s the first of our four chickens to lay an egg since we first received them 10 weeks ago.
It might seem like a small thing, but for Katy and me, it felt like a proud milestone. Since receiving the chickens, we’ve been waking early to tend to them. Opening the coop, refilling their bowls with food and clean water, and making sure they’re happy and healthy. They’ve become a part of our rhythm, part of the land, part of the daily practice of care.
After one of our recent retreats, we had heaps of compost left over. And as compost does, it became a magnet for fly larvae. It’s a little gross… but it turns out to be the chickens’ absolute favorite food. I’ll bring a bowl of it to the coop and they rush over, full of excitement. They spend over an hour digging through the dirt, savoring every last bite. There’s something beautiful about watching their joy. So simple, so instinctive.
And then one morning, this past week, I opened the coop lid and found a small, perfect white egg waiting for us.
The First Taste
Rockstar’s now laid five eggs in total. And today, we finally decided it was time to eat one.
We boiled them gently, then sat outside at a small table in the sun. Cracked them open, peeled away the shell, and tasted. And let me tell you: it was one of the best eggs I’ve ever had. Rich. Flavorful. Earned.
There’s something sacred about eating food that comes directly from the life you care for. When you’ve been part of the process—feeding, cleaning, protecting—it transforms the way you experience the meal. You slow down. You notice more. It becomes a kind of mindfulness practice. What does the egg feel like in your hand? What sound does the shell make when it cracks? What scent rises from it as it cools?
Food becomes more than nourishment. It becomes presence. I once read that when you eat something, your body is fed; but when you eat something with awareness, both your body and consciousness are.
What Chickens Teach About Routine
Raising chickens has taught me a lot about consistency. They thrive on routine. Open the door each morning. Feed them. Clean the coop. Show up again the next day.
And maybe we’re not so different.
We like to think we’re spontaneous and independent, but our minds and bodies crave rhythm. Just like meditation, which invites us to sit with ourselves day after day, no matter the weather inside. There’s something meditative about doing the same thing every morning. Something stabilizing about repetition, about returning, again and again.
And when you do, life starts offering small gifts. A calmer mind. A better mood. Or a fresh egg.
The Chicken or the Egg?
I keep thinking about that old riddle: What comes first, the chicken or the egg?
It reminds me of a deeper question in mindfulness. What comes first—the feeling of calm, or the practice that brings it? Do we wait for stillness to arrive before we begin, or do we begin and let the stillness find us?
The truth is, they feed each other. Just like the chicken and the egg. Just like showing up and being rewarded.
And maybe, in its own quiet way, that little white egg is a reminder: keep showing up. Keep tending. Keep practicing. Because the simple rituals we return to each day have the power to hatch something sacred.