The Little Red Hen
it's ours
This week’s LOL features an essay and instead of edits I am offering a few ways to directly support people and animals in our beloved City of Angeles.
R.I.P D.L.
THE LITTLE RED HEN
by Byron Barton
I’ve never liked this story. It’s spiteful and dark.
As far as I can tell, all the animals on the farm are working toward their own goals and have no space to join Hen’s work.
and that’s okay because Hen’s got it!
Hen saw an opportunity and worked hard; her immediate family reaped the benefits.
The only real problem is that she wasted time and energy trying to convince everyone on the farm to do the job with her. She did it all on her own anyway! Who needs ‘em.
Sure, many hands make lighter work, but she effortlessly did all the work while also caring for her sweet baby chicks. Hen is a hero.
Her chicks saw their mother carry on with purpose. There’s nothing better for little ones than to parallel play while mama does mama’s work.
All Hen was missing IMO was the confidence to stop asking other animals for help.
They couldn’t help. Who are we to say what “work” the cat, the pig, and the duck should be doing, anyway?
Only they know that.
Maybe the duck is battling anxiety, the pig is coming off a massive project and is physically and emotionally depleted, and what if the cat works nights to ensure no rodents are biting the Hen’s chicks and really needs a nap?
Why shouldn’t Hen’s community get a bite of bread?
If Hen can see an opportunity, do all the work, and get it done — in my opinion she could easily share the fruits of her labor with her community.
She can bake the bread!
Not everyone can bake the bread!
and that means she can do it over and over again.
But hey, she can’t kill the rodents on the farm, can she?
The cat kills the mice, and the Hen bakes the bread.
If Hen doesn’t want to share, that's fine. That’s her choice. It’s not a loving choice, but it’s her choice.
Still, I want to read my children a version of Little Red Hen in which Hen finds the seeds, makes the flour, and bakes the bread.
First she feeds herself and her baby chicks. Then, Hen charges the animals in the barnyard $5 a slice and serves it up out of her kitchen.
Eventually Hen makes enough sales to fund a factory to make enough bread for the whole town.
Hen spends her days running back and forth from her factory to beautiful fields with her chicks and everyone lives happily ever after. All because Hen saw a great opportunity, took it, and served her community.
Or better yet —
Maybe Hen and her bread making factory make enough money and bread for her family and her community that she can finally give bread away to animals in need.
That’s a great story.
But we all know why Hen doesn’t share the fruits of her labor with the barn yarn —
Because sharing is hard.
MOTHERHOOD
by The Little Red Hen
Sharing is hard for kids.
Sharing is hard for grown-ups.
Our collective subconsciousness says resources are limited. If you’re asleep in life, you might tap into this frequency and believe it’s true. But it’s not.
Give to yourself. Give to others. Decide to see the truth, abundance is all around you.
For example:
My toddler takes blocks from her sister and says, “These are mine.” She sounds angry, but she is afraid.
“Mine!” stunning in defensiveness.
When I hear my toddler say, “These are mine,” with that unmistakeable air of aggression, I stop whatever I am doing, get to her eye level, and say, “These are ours.”
And I mean it. And she hears it.
She taps into the abundance all around her. Then, the moment passes, and depending on her exhaustion or how thirsty she is, she screams, “Nooo!”
A few moments later, she says, “Mine!” and I stop whatever I am doing, get to her eye level, and say, “These are ours.”
And I mean it. And she hears it.
And she taps into the abundance all around her.
A few moments later, she says, “Mine!” and I stop whatever I am doing, get to her eye level, and say, “These are ours.”
And I mean it. And she hears it.
And she taps into the abundance all around her.
Depending on how tired, thirsty, or cold she is, I might repeat this twenty times an hour. Sometimes, days go by. But if I hear it — if I hear “MINE.”
I stop whatever I am doing, get to her eye level, and say, “These are ours.”
And I mean it. And she hears it.
And she taps into the abundance all around her.
I do this —
So that eventually, someday, when someone takes something important from her, and she feels she has nothing—when someone takes what’s “hers”—she will let it sting and then tap into an ancient knowing that no one can take what matters.
Her spirit.
No one can take her mind.
Her mind can turn any crayon into a block. Any thing is whatever she needs it to be. Cold wind becomes refreshing. Death becomes an opportunity. Carelessness becomes information. Poison becomes medicine. Fire becomes relief.
The truth is, no one can take anything from you. Everything is what you make it.
Except for your shelter and your food.
…
But if someday that terrible wind should blow and your snack or shelter is dust, I will be there, and I will make sure there is enough to go around for I am Hen and I can do the work.
What’s mine is ours.
SHARING
by The Little Red Hen
Here are a few fast ways to remotely share with those in needs. This list isn’t robust or comprehensive, but it’s actionable and as Lilyan would say… “it’s up to you!”
Bid on pieces up for auction organized by Lobster Club. All proceeds go to the LA Art World Fire Relief.
Support the LA Fire Department here: https://supportlafd.org/
Some more fantastic options:
Altadena Girls Fund started by a teen
Baby2Baby Disaster Relief and Emergency Response
Pasadena Humane Society For Animal Shelters
Help Station 69 Battle the Palisades Fire
Support HERO DROPS: Feed LA Firefighters
Mutual Aid L.A. — This spreadsheet is awesome
