In the weeds

We're in the high season now, hot and humid on the farm.  We're in our hustle and flow and everything is coming up in abundance.  We're sweating ourselves silly, jumping in the lake at lunchtime when we can, and taking time to appreciate this week's first red tomato, the rain and breezes when they come, the nights where we can see the full moon rising in opposition to the most glorious sunsets.

And of course, since everything is growing and booming, so are the weeds.  So. many. weeds.  This week I spent hours upon hours pulling up weeds.  It could make a person batty if you let it, but it can also be good therapy - to see a weedy patch fully cleared and the plants given new opportunity to produce and thrive.  

It's a good chance to clear the head as well, to work out any ideas, to be with your emotions and your self, and maybe, if you keep on pulling up weeds long enough, reach a state of peaceful emptiness.  It's sort of luxurious, all this time for self-reflection, time I used to grab for desperately and greedily in tiny pockets in my old, overly busy life.

I got to thinking this week about the guiding principles of my life.  I've always liked the idea of having a kind of personal mission statement, a mantra, or something that I could check in with whenever I'm feeling rootless or pulled in different directions or confused.  When I was training to become a Nia teacher, we used The Four Agreements, from the book written by Don Miguel Ruiz.  I think this simple set of rules is so valuable and a great touchstone to share in any group.  But I think it can be a worthwhile exercise to pen your own agreements to your self as well.

A few years ago during a meditation, these three statements came to me in a gentle wave:

Work hard in everything you do.

Be grateful for everything you have.

Spread joy wherever you go.

I've been coming back to those statements again and again since then, whenever I need to re-motivate or check in on my life or make a decision.  And those three sentiments have served me well, but I've been feeling like it may be time for a refresh.  So, on my hands and knees, among the pigweed and the quack grass, lamb's quarters and purslane, I came up with my new guiding principles:

Always maintain a sense of wonder and curiosity.

I think I'm naturally inclined to this anyway, but I wanted it first on my list for a reason.  I want to live a life full of adventure and discovery and constant learning.  I actively put this on the top of my list, because I can also be naturally inclined to go in the opposite direction - valuing stability and security and routine, finding myself wrapped in a very comfortable blanket of inertia.  I put this on the top of my list to remind myself to GO, get out there, see it, do it, taste it, say yes, give it a try.

Be where you are.

A simple notion that packs a powerful punch.  For me, this means not getting too far ahead of myself trying to map out a grand life plan.  It means being where I am physically - being in the conversation without distraction, doing the work without thinking about what's next.  It also means being where I am geographically, taking full advantage of the unique gifts and offerings of any place, whether that's Maine or New York City or Appalachia or Colorado.  And it means allowing myself to be where I am in whatever journey I'm on.  I'm at the beginning of my journey as a farmer - make mistakes, absorb, BE a beginner.  I'm at the beginning of dating someone new - let it unfold and be in the often unsettling space of the unknown.

Live simply, in beauty.

Living in a camper the last three months has taught me: there's very little I need.  I want to remind myself to keep it that way, to limit my consumption and value what I have.  I want to live in a beautiful environment and see myself as a part of it.  I want to see myself as a beautiful woman.  I want to create simple, beautiful meals.  I want to stay in touch with the exquisite pleasure of how I feel when I drive down a leafy backroad with the windows down or when I walk through the meadow under a full moon and a sky full of stars.  The senses are enough.  Less is more.

So, I'll run with these for a while and see where they take me.  I'm curious to know: what would your principles be?

How to hug a porcupine

One night this week, after a heavy rain and a long work day, I set out to take a walk in the woods nearby.  It was a hapless outing; the bugs were ravenous, the trails a wet mess not well-blazed, and I set out late enough that when I found myself a little bit lost at 8:30pm and my daylight hours were closing in, I started to worry a bit.  I was rushing my way back to the last point of signage I could recall.  I bushwhacked my way through the overgrown trail, crossed over the creekbed, and there he was: standing on his hind legs, peeking out from behind the tree, staring at me, as if we were playing a game of hide and seek and he'd been found.  A porcupine, the third one I'd seen recently.

The first one snuck up on me a couple of weeks ago as I was planting sweet potatoes with the crew in the field.  No one saw it approach, it seemed to appear magically out of nowhere.  In my peripheral vision I noticed a creature, and only when it was about five feet from me did I register that this slow, lumbering thing wasn't one of our farm cats.  We both froze, I backed away, and the porcupine moved along, making it's way through the field and out to the road.

Earlier this week, I saw another: after rising at 4:30am to do my morning yoga in the yurt, I was returning to my camper and witnessed a porcupine creeping its way through the meadow, crossing directly through my walking path.

I'd never seen a live porcupine before coming to Maine, only ever as roadkill.  The farm gals agree: something is going on with the porcupine population this season.  They seem abundant and very bold.  They sort of creep us out with their quilly rodent bodies and their sloth-like slowness.  But there's something that feels significant about them too: like they're carrying a message.

I went online to read about the symbolism of the porcupine and found the following:
"Porcupine meanders casually and nonchalantly in full confidence.  She is equipped with all she needs to protect herself and she wears her protection like a badge of honor and regalia.  This spirit animal can appear for you when you are at a very important crossroads.  She can walk with you in new situations particularly when you feel apprehensive or vulnerable.  Porcupine will teach you the skills of carrying the energy of protecting yourself with authority."

So, I've come to embrace the porcupine (figuratively, because hugging a porcupine would be ill-advised) as my spirit animal this summer.  I am indeed at an important crossroads, taking in so much newness, choosing a new lifestyle, forming new relationships, learning new skills, that it's easy to get overwhelmed or get ahead of myself or cling to the stories and ways of being I used to know.

It's exceptionally hard to just be somewhere, to - as the porcupine, meander casually and nonchalantly in full confidence.  The planner in me wants to know what's next after this apprenticeship ends.  When will I see my friends?  What will I do for work in the winter?  The lovelorn in me wants to know where this relationship with the guy I'm dating is going.  Will it last, and if not, should I continue to invest time and energy into it?

A few weeks ago, I did a small thing that made a big difference.  I took off my watch.  At first, it was simply to get rid of the tacky tan line I'd developed, but then I noticed how it altered my sense of time.  Instead of thinking "It's 9:30am...two and a half hours until lunchtime," my awareness became "I am halfway through harvesting this bed of kale."  It changed my perception of the day from "What's next?" to "Where am I now?"  I think there is a kind of simple beauty in that - a single-tasking, grounded, mindfulness, that is impossible to achieve when you are always looking forward.

Says the internet, the porcupine spirit animal carries this message:
"You will find great power and unlock ancient wisdom from the energies stored within the earth.  Spend time connecting with the earth going to the mountains, stopping by a creek, dipping your feet in the waters, planting trees, collecting rocks and leaves and twigs and create a sacred earth alter in your home.  Delight in the great abundant variety of gifts found in the great outdoors.  What is the message in the song the bird sings as you walk nearby?  Porcupine conveys the message that there is always magic around you, you must simply be open to seeing it.  Open to nature with new eyes, the eyes of a child, and then you will enjoy the magic of the earth's abundant and awe-inspiring gifts the Great Spirit has bestowed on you."

And so, I lay in bed and listen to the sounds of the thunderstorm.  I wrap my hands around my cup of coffee and feel the warmth.  I listen for that birdsong.  I watch the fireflies.  I feel the sweat on my forehead.  I try.