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?