As you’ve likely gathered by now, I have been in the process of getting sizzled to a crisp like a phoenix. It’s uncomfortable, I’d say, at a minimum. For so long, I was unhappy, disassociated, and all-around miserable. My anxiety, depression, physical ailments, and chronic misery grew to be unsustainable. They cried out, “Hear me. See me. Notice me. Please please please do something.”
My intuition and gut and soul were screaming to be heard. It was overwhelming–being so uncomfortable and not knowing how to take care of myself. At first, It was awkward. I didn’t have a clue who I was or what I wanted. Just that I needed something different. With love, someone close to me advised, “If you want to eat a burger, eat a burger. If you want to sit under a tree, sit under a tree. If you have an urge to do something, just do it–don’t think too much about it.” The first urge I followed was to buy a Build-a-Bear. Her name is Winnie. She has a red shirt and bows and holds a floral-print heart. When I made her, I nurtured my inner child and did something I had always wanted to do. Since then, I’ve been learning to gently listen to the soft nudge of my intuition and making small adjustments along the way. I slowly built and reestablished a relationship of trust with myself–following strange urges and doing what felt right.
Honoring myself in small ways has made it possible for me to make more significant adjustments to my life. Each metaphorical burger I ate and tree I sat under reassured my self that I am here and I am listening. She’s since shared with me deeper longings and cravings, trusting that I will honor her in the ways I know how. For the longest time, I’d been craving simplicity and slowness and a deep connection with nature. Little did I know, I have been being beckoned to come back to my self and to the earth and also to the divine rhythms and time. Drawn to rest when I’m tired and stay inside when it rains. Lured to eat critters I harvest. Enjoy crops I reap and sow.
My heart’s desire, as my friend Jill would put it (in reference to Of Mice and Men), is to be “living off the fat of the land”.
The last couple weeks have been ripe with opportunities for me to do just that.
Last week, a loved one and I constructed a greenhouse together. We used crusty old windows and wonky two-by-fours heavily seasoned with years of spider webs and bird poo. I say “we”. I cut a few pieces of wood, hammered a few nails, and got deeply distracted by Beyoncé. I wore my mom’s old Levi’s and a pair of sneakers. Snot dripped out of my nose on the cold mornings, and my fingers went numb late into the afternoon. I prepared hot tea for us and also sauerkraut(?) and fresh biscuits. The strawberries and blackberries spend their days out there now and their nights inside.
Two weeks ago, I killed a fish. I nearly vomited. I cried. I cried hard. I did everything that I could to have completed this task with dignity and a clear conscience. I thanked the fish, blessed it, honored it. Prayed over it. Sent love to it before and after the end of it’s life. Their life. When I brought the fish home, I learned to filet the meat. I removed the skin and dehydrated it for dog treats. I composted the remains and returned the energy and nutrients to the earth. However, it wasn’t until days later that my anxiety calmed enough to fully process and cook the meat. Full disclosure, I asked for help from a more seasoned fisherman. Though I love to cook, I had such anxiety about burning or overcooking or under-seasoning–anything that would have rendered the fish inedible. We ate together, and it was beautiful and delicious and fulfilling and full of nutrients and life. I had visions later that night of swimming in deep water, and I was tickled to feel water flowing over me as I showered–as if the fish were living on through me. I joyfully await the day that I can take her swimming with me in spirit.
I spent an afternoon clearing dead trees and branches. My hands bled and a branch hit me in the face. I tried my hand at operating a chainsaw and opted for a handheld saw instead. By the end of the day, my body hurt and my eyes burned, and my clothes and nails were all dirty. That project isn’t quite finished yet, but it’s well on its way.
I enrolled in a class for new farmers. I spend several hours each week learning with other novices, planting metaphorical and literal seeds as we water and tend to our farm dreams.
Today, I planted some seedlings. I did have a miniature melt-down when I realized some of my indoor plants died in the transition. And then another when I grabbed my box of seeds from the garage to find that a critter had eaten their fill of watermelon seeds, squash and zucchini seeds, and essentially shredded every last well-organized and labeled paper packet. I cried. I mourned. So many of those seeds were harvested from the plants I grew last year. The others could have easily amounted to a hundred dollars (If ur reading this, plz send seeds). It hurt so bad. In some way, it felt like even this last bit of my previous life needed to go up in flames for the new bird to rise from the ashes. At some point though, can’t a girl get a little mercy?
For so so long, I questioned myself and my intuition. Do I actually want this lifestyle, or do I enjoy the idea of this lifestyle? It’s very easy to enjoy picking ripe veggies in the heat of the sun and chopping and stacking firewood and harvesting critters from the comfort of my sofa and the safety of a daydream.
Out of the ashes and in the upheaval and the crumbling and transition, there have been little wildflowers growing up in the rubble. Little specks of hope that peek their heads out of the dust, looking for fresh air and sunshine. In other words, I get to answer for myself Do I actually like this lifestyle, or did I enjoy it more from the comfort of a daydream? Is this what I was hoping for?
I can tell you for sure that I am uncomfortable. But also content. I am fed. I am watered. I am clothed. I am safe. What more could I ask for. What more could I need.
It is the simplicity I’ve been dreaming of. The slowness my body and mind have been yearning for.