Remember those revolving doors? That potential, sweeping us away when the time is right?
I got swept away, and in it, I learned a very valuable lesson. Sometimes, the view from the door is not enough. Sometimes, we have to be all in with the wind blowing like a bitch to see what that potential, or even in certain experiences lack of potential, may be teaching us about ourselves, our world ... our desires.
Today, I'm happy to be right where we are ... farming and writing. While CJ is explaining the duals on his planter, the reasons he took off the markers and just how he's going to fix a bum track on the tractor, I'm breathing deeply. Soaking it in. Remembering gratitude heals all.
With planting season in full swing here, I keep running the process of spring through my brain. Sure, it's on my heart because we're in the thick of it and Farmer Johnson is in major go-mode (farm wives, I know you feel me!), but it's also on my heart because I recently planted a seed. And frankly, it got washed the fuck out.
I had my heart all set on it being a bumper crop, a hybrid I would stick with for life and tell whale-sized tales about years from now. And instead, life happened. The Universe takes over, and sometimes the best we can do in return is simply ask, "What can I learn from this?"
I'll be honest. In this moment, it's hard not to be completely heartbroken. Hopes and goals - even in their most logical intentions - come heavy on the emotional side, especially when they don't follow our well-laid plans.
But at the end of the day, we must feel those emotions hard and then move on. We must let the tears come full force, and then we have to pull our shit together, recognize the lesson learned and keep going.
We have to be where we are and believe in where we're going, even when the thing we want may in most is to go back to where we were.
So while he's getting in his first round of seed, I'm working on plans for a replant. I'm taking stock of just how much damage has been done and I'm making decisions for what we'll do next.