Beginner's mind

Yesterday morning, I hung around the farm and did a couple loads of laundry.  As I was hanging my clothes on the line to dry, one of my favorite Jane Kenyon poems came to mind:

The Clothes Pin

by Jane Kenyon

How much better it is

to carry wood to the fire

than to moan about your life.

How much better

to throw the garbage

onto the compost, or to pin the clean

sheet on the line

with a gray-brown wooden clothes pin!

There was a simple, pure pleasure in that chore, that sunny morning, with blue skies, clothes flapping in the breeze, my body sore from a week of hard work and a whole wide open weekend ahead of me.  Time felt expansive, I felt present and full, wanting for nothing more.  And I recognize that it is these small pleasures and merciful moments that will energize and sustain me.

In truth, life on the farm was not all sunny breezy fantasy this week.  It was cold and damp, the kind of cold that settles into your bones and only a hot shower can cure.  Nights dipped down to the 30s, and while I felt fairly confident in my fire-making skills a week ago, there were nights this week that I simply could not get anything to burn.  One night when I desperately needed a roaring fire, I failed  repeatedly and cracked a bottle of whiskey instead in a last-ditch attempt to warm up.  I burrowed into my sleeping bag as soon as the sun went down.  I missed my city friends and my cozy apartment intensely that night, feeling frozen and alone.

And when the weather is spotty and spring is slow in coming, things get stressful on the farm.  With one eye on the ground and the other on the skies, Laura has to make real-time decisions about the operation that are critical for the timing of planting and harvest.  On Wednesday, a chilly, overcast day with rain looming in the forecast, we hustled to get our first round of crops into the ground: rainbow chard, three kinds of kale, and napa cabbage.  Right now, we are a crew of three - Laura, Abi, and me. Another apprentice will join us in a few weeks and we'll get some additional labor help from CSA workshare members.  But that day the three of us hand-transplanted about 3000 seedlings into the ground.  Calculate how many squats that is per person and you'll wince or cry.

Needless to say, I was a little stiff the next couple of days.  But along with the soreness also came a few moments of humility that bruised me too.  It goes without saying that I'm new at this, and any apprentice is going to make mistakes as they develop and grow.  But I really, really hate making mistakes and am hard on myself when I slip up.  I'm trying to get better at shaking off those errors and just seeing them as they are - opportunities to learn - but I often allow them to build into rain clouds that hover over my psyche the rest of the day.

But as Kenyon says, "How much better it is to carry wood to the fire than to moan about your life."  And it's true and a little bit miraculous what a good day of hard work and a spot of sunshine can do to turn your attitude around.  By the time the skies cleared on Thursday afternoon, I had let go of my self-doubt and felt grateful to be exactly where I was.

When you've let go of nearly everything you own, left a place you've known so well, given up a paycheck that once allowed you to explore and entertain yourself to your heart's content, the small things really do come into focus.  I am grateful for the beautiful handmade cup made by my friend Ming that I use to drink my coffee every morning.  A trip to the local coffeeshop for wifi and a bagel is a once-a-week treat.  I have awesome new friends - Bill and Adrienne Andrews - who have made me pizza and introduced me to their pet goats and whose house is a treasure trove of books I can borrow.  A hot shower feels like a sacred experience, and a hot meal at the end of the day - even if it's just a can of soup that I heat up in my camper feels like necessary nourishment.

I am encouraged by the fact that the days will get warmer and longer, that I will get better at this, that I will get to know the people and places of Maine.  But for now, I am just here: to do the work, to take it all in, and to spend a whole lot of time with myself, living and learning.