These past two weeks have felt like a constant increasing pressure as a result of just a few decisions I made in pursuit of this new life. Two online college classes, active participation in a seed exchange, saying yes to more chickens....
I consider the move to the farm one of my biggest leaps of faith so far in my life. It may not seem so to the outside observer, but for a single mother to answer an add on Craigslist, visit a farm over 50 miles away, and then decide- This is Home- was huge for me. I had limited support, and some rather hostile opposition, but my heart said yes. It has turned out to be the best decision ever for my son and me.
In the months after moving, the contentment I felt on the farm was rarely matched by any outside activity or destination. I began to dread engagements as painful obligations, and breathe a sigh of relief when I returned home. I realized that a long standing prayer I had sent up had been answered- but I kept straying from the answer. The prayer was a plea for contentment. I prayed that I would learn to be content unto myself, and inside whatever life would throw my way. Through my move I was given a sphere of contentment, yet I remained tied to outside people and events.
When I realized this, I set a goal to learn to say "no" when I felt the pull home was stronger than the pull to be anywhere or do anything else. I had developed the unfortunate habit of deriving my personal contentment by pleasing others. This was not only a false, fleeting, contentment, it also depended solely on others, and as we all know, to some extent- that dependency is wholly unreliable and often falls short of contrived expectations. Not to mention that the weight I put on those outside me for needing me was often much less than I imagined.
And so, to every event I felt I was only attending to satisfy a connection with another and did not return any connective satisfaction to myself, I learned to say no. It was hard the first few times, and also bittersweet to see how easily my "no" was received. But yet also, a relief. My contentment did not depend on others, and others' happiness did not depend on my presence.
Now I come to another form of saying no, that I just came to realize I have need of today. A big part of starting this life is the belief that I am on the right path, and as I become receptive, the steps will appear before me. In the excitement of discovery, I often try to achieve as much as possible towards the progress of this life. Note I do not call this a dream- for it is not; it is a slowly forming life, that sometimes lives only in my head and heart, but is and will continue to develop into my life. But often, dreams get mixed in, and I get carried away from the path. This is not to say I don't dream, but to distinguish what I will and can do from what is not in alignment with my path.
I had been keeping bees for seven years at my old home. It began as a curious hobby, and it was an easy side activity that fit with my gardens there. When I moved to the farm, I gave my hives away. The following spring on the farm, I purchased all new equipment and bees to begin the hobby again. It did not have the same feeling, yet I felt I must continue with the bees. It turned out to be a labor intensive year, with many mishaps and ultimately ended with both of my hives dying this winter.
It was not the time to have bees here on the farm- perhaps it will never be the time again. I had lost my reason for having them, yet I continued to pour time, effort and money into them, yet not my heart. After this realization I decided that I will collect the honey this winter, clean out the hives, and set them aside until such a time that is right to begin with them again.
Here, in essence is the new no I must learn to say. This life will be a slow progression, and many may be on parallel paths ahead of me, yet it is not time for me to take on what they can so easily handle- or how they make it appear easy to my outside eyes. There are so many things I foolishly "want" that ultimately have no true value to me or this life I am journeying to build. More activity does not necessarily equate to more progress.
I very much identify with the main character of Under the Tuscan Sun, who on seeming happenstance, finds her new life by buying and renovating a decrepit villa in Tuscany. Her biggest moments of progress were when she did as things appeared, and enjoyed the love she spontaneously attracted, rather than chased. In one scene, she bemoans losing a lover that, after many failed attempts to connect, had left her for a more accessible woman. Throughout the movie, it shows her in glorious everyday moments with friends and family, and he would whisk through her villa, only to miss her. After a few attempts, he moved on, showing his true worth, in my opinion. She was crushed, however. Feeling she had finally "got it" and to lose it so easily, she cried, when would it be her turn?
Her friend then recounted a story of a little girl, spending all day in a meadow chasing ladybugs, constantly jumping, swinging a net, and failing to catch even one. After exhaustive lack of progress, the girl fell asleep in the meadow, and when she awoke, was covered in ladybugs. Her efforts were fruitless, although in the right place. When she finally became still- in the right place, what she sought came to her without effort.
This week I'm dropping one of my two classes I started. I do not have the time to devote enough focus to both classes, and I am quickly losing ground in both as a result. Permaculture Design stays, as it has proven to be part of the path. Plant Propagation will be dropped. I have the textbook, and like the bees, the tools can be picked up in such a time that I have the hands to hold them. The painful twinge of saying no is soothed by the knowledge that my hands are full with what I have, and when I rest, the ladybugs will land.
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